Great. I just finished speaking with a friend of mine, and I'm now convinced that there's a good chance I'll die tonight. I live close to D.C., and Saddam's just fucked up enough that he might try to hit it with something big.
I have no bomb shelter into which to retreat. My car isn't reliable enough to take somewhere safer. And the crux of it all is that I'm just too much of a coward to run away. If I run away, and I'm wrong, I look foolish. I can't have that. Hell, I walked by three of my coworkers on my way up here to write this, and, while I was prepared to ask one of them for a hug or a comforting word, I gave up when I saw all three. I'm too much of a coward to show myself vulnerable in front of more than one person.
If I knew for sure that the world was ending, I'd want to spend my time with Mandie, my girlfriend. But I'm too much of a coward to go over there on a schoolnight and demand that she spend the night with me because I'm concerned the sky will fall. I'd look like a little boy asking for a nightlight. I'd look like a fool.
So, basically, any hope I had of enjoying this day, if it is to be my last day on earth, has been dashed by my fear of what will happen if it is not, and tomorrow comes. That seems like a pretty good way to convince yourself that you need a personality transplant, doncha think?
Oh well. Perhaps I can head Saddam off at the pass. I'll stop by Burger King on my way home; hopefully, the cholesterol will kill me before the Middle Eastern dictator will.
I don't know how people who lived through the cold war managed it. I would be frozen to the spot, forever afraid to move.