I'm losing all my friends. They think I'm nuts.
I'm wondering whether they're correct. Are we nuts? Or are we just doom junkies?
I've been getting lots of blank stares lately. If I talk about the end of the world, or even worse, the-end-of-life-on-earth-as-we-know-it, my friends want some facts.
So I've started to dutifully tell them about Jerome a Paris.
"Jerome who?" They ask, confused.
"You mean to tell me you don't read Jerome a Paris!" I shreik. "Do you read Krugman and Dowd and not Paris? You better start reading what he has to say. It's not pretty. It'll scare the shit out of you!" I warn ominously.
Then I meet a friend at the gym.
"Are you prepared?" I ask.
"Prepared for what?"
"Avian Flu, it's gonna be ugly. Lots of people will die--and I mean lots!"
"How do you know this?" I am met with a by now familiar blank stare.
"Darksyde. I have a brilliant friend named Darksyde, he is an expert on disasters, things like hurricanes and flu pandemics."
"Darksyde? Who in their right mind would name a child Darksyde?" Is all this person can muster.
My final encounter of the day is with a well educated lawyer.
"Bush is in the crapper--big time and Cheney, Rove and Libby are all definite goners!" I giggle with ill-concealed glee.
"That was in the Times?" he says startled. "I didn't see anything."
I can tell from his reaction, that I am sowing seeds of confusion and angst, the length and breadth of Manhattan.
"No! Of course not." I say, desperately trying to set the record straight. "Sherlock Google says so!" His jaw drops, his knees look about to give out.
"Who?! Are you crazy, or something?"
Maybe I am--crazy, that is.
I have become the very unwelcome Prophetess of Doom.
I am fighting a lonely battle, reality versus denial.
Truth against bullshit.
I am proud Doom Junkie.
You know to spell doom junkie? I-N-F-O-R-M-E-D.
I suppose we all may be doom junkies.