It is the End Times. For 2020, anyway. And I doubt that anyone will lament its passing. Pandemic. No Final Four. Toilet paper shortages. Regardless, if you are still kicking, you probably have some things to be thankful for. In this spirit, here are some things I am thankful for.

1- Orange Hitler was defeated in the election. Allegedly.

2- Karens everywhere were identified and summarily punished via shaming video. Hahahahaha. Eat it. Also, to the scarf wearing Karen I overheard saying Lake Superior was “blah.” Fuck You. Japanese tourists come in droves to see the Big Lake. What do you think the word “superior” means? Idiot. Your stupid scarf is “blah.”

3- I am now able to completely abandon any veneer of civility. Fuck you. Eat it. Etc. (In the interest of full disclosure, I am rationalizing behavior that I abandoned long before 2020. But, what the hell? Pandemic. The Golden Excuse for Everything.)

4- Many good, decent people died. Which sucks. On the other hand, at least as many assholes also headed off to the abyss. Yin and Yang.

5- I finally get to dress as a bandit. “Give me all of your money, Tenderfoot.” Without 2020, I would never have been able to use that sentence. It is also ironic as my feet are quite tender. I never go barefoot outside. What in the hell did John Shoemaker develop shoes for? Never heard of John Shoemaker? Google it.

6- Soon, no one will be able to say “Google it.” The Feds are hellbent on breaking up the Alphabet monopoly. Until somebody gets paid, Tenderfoot. Scratch that one.

7- On a daily basis, I was able to minimize my contact with other human beings. I mean, people pay to go to Buddhist monasteries that are hidden high in the Himalayan foothills. Because of 2020, I get to do it free.

8- As travel is no longer needed, I no longer have nearly as much road rage.

9- Greatest Road Rage Song? Bad Habit by The Offspring.

Hey man, you know I’m really okay…The gun in my hand will tell you the same

But when I’m in my car, don’t give me no crap…’Cause the slightest thing and I just might snap

Pure American poetry. In sad news, some twenty year old kid with a prominent neck tattoo gunned down a forty-five year old man in a road rage incident. He told the cops he didn’t like how the guy was driving. Pow Pow Pow. This happened in Barron County, just a short jaunt down the road. Yep. That’s the same county where a nutball nerd shot down two people and kidnapped their 13 year old daughter.

When I go driving, I stay in my lane…But getting cut off, it makes me insane

I open the glove box, reach inside…I’m gonna wreck this fucker’s ride

10- In 2020, life often imitated art. See above. Also, see the movie Contagion. The movie Pandemic. Stephen King’s The Dead Zone (we could never have a candidate like that, could we?).

11- I finally got to watch John Wick 3. Now I have to watch it 106 more times like I did 1 and 2. Pow Pow Pow. I like dogs, too.

12- Three of my wife’s six chickens survived. Miracles do happen. The other three went the way of the fox. What does the fox say? “Thank you for the free food.” One night I was walking around in the dark with a loaded shotgun and a flashlight, hot on the arrogant fox’s tail. Then I realized how stupid that was and went inside. Pow Pow Pow is really only for the movies. And Barron County.

13- Despite the Socialist’s constant assault, my gun rights are still intact.

14- I didn’t hear “boo” from Paul Ryan. And I have no idea what the Kardashians are up to.

15- The NBA played until October and then restarted two months later. As long as I can watch basketball, I can easily forgot about the plight of others. In fairness, others have a lot of plight. Plight is never in short supply. It is like venereal disease. I guess venereal disease is a plight of its own. Though some plights are a lot worse than others. Thank penicillin.

16- Science was wobbled, but battled back to once again save our collective derrieres. We like to ridicule the geeks. And we do it on our phones. Frankenstein’s Monster, I believe it is called.

17- The environment got a bit of a reprieve. The upcoming doom of Climate Change was set back several months due to the pandemic. A couple of more pandemics and I might escape the worst of it. Of course, my escape will be engendered by my demise. But I have to go some time. Six months before Global Armageddon sounds about right.

“Hey, MO, the ocean is rising at an alarming rate. The world is about to be thrown into chaos.”

“Ackkkkk, Acckkkkkk. I think this is the end,” says I. Hohohohohoho. Victory is mine.” Well, it is a Pyrrhic victory. Still, always do your best.

18- Due to working at home, I was able to nearly double my time spent fishing. Considering I spend a lot of time fishing in a normal year, this was a fine accomplishment. Some people have the goal of making millions. Some want to spend as much time fishing as possible. The first are Good Capitalists with a second home. The second are bums without the polka dot hankey and stick. Though I could easily buy a polka dot hankey. And sticks are plentiful in nature. Until Climate Change Armageddon. Which I won’t be around to see anyway.

19- My sixth grade basketball team went 18-0. I am like the Bobby Knight of six grade basketball. Without the chair throwing. And asinine politics. Or dumb sweater.

I am like the Gregg Popovich of sixth grade basketball.

20- Finally, there are houses with Trump signs still in their yard all over the place. I drink their tears of sadness every time I pass by. They are salty and taste like pretzels. Pretzels of Victory.

21- I don’t live in Barron County,Wisconsin. And I never will.

Guess what? You’ll never guess, so I will just tell you. Scientists are growing brains in test tubes! (Actually, this has been happening for a while, but I like to be the first to break the news). Well, tiny cerebral organoids. Definitely brain-like, however. All of our problems are solved.

Think about it (heh heh). If scientists can grow tiny brains, they will surely learn to grow bigger brains. And these brains can be modified for performance. Unlike the brains of my farmer neighbors. “No socialism!!” shout their angry signs. Dairy farming, as you will note, is heavily subsidized by the rest of of us. The signs should say “No socialism!! Unless you are an angry farmer!!” Regardless, the farmers, much like their farms, are on their last legs. Soon, my house will be surrounded by a vast wasteland. Where will all the barn cats go? Probably to my garage, if they can manage entry.

Anyway, these brains are exact replicas of our own brains, just in miniature. Apparently, one possible application for these mini-brains is to use them in computers as our slaves. The computational power of the human brain is astronomical, you know. Well, it has that potential. “No More Bullshit!!”

Of course, in the distant future these brains could be transplanted into human beings with damaged brains. By my calculation, that would be about half the population or so. A project of that magnitude would be a huge undertaking, so I am sure the option will only be available to the rich. “No Socialism!!!” Regardless, think of how smart rich people could be. And they will use this newfound intelligence to improve the world.

Hohohohoho. That one even made me chuckle. No, they won’t. Instead they will just put smaller, slave brains in machines to do all the dirty work. The rest of us will be forced into tin-roof shanty towns. “Tin Roof, rusted!”

That’s what all of us Tinners will say. Because it doesn’t cost anything to have a sense of humor. As we descend into a chaos of cannibalism and carnage, we will need every bit of our sense of humor. Perhaps we will be able to attack the robots and consume the little brains inside. Protein for the Proletariat!!

This new future will be full of slogans. No more bullshit there.

Maybe these tiny brains can be captured (and not eaten). Then, a super genius arises from the shanty town and figures out a way to meld a bunch of tiny brains into one giant, super processing brain. Let’s call this giant brain “Braintown.” Braintown will be our super weapon, to be unleashed on those damn rich people who took all our jobs and gave them to the tiny brains.

We win! That is until Braintown realizes we are superfluous, petty creatures with questionable hygiene. Braintown then concocts a Superflu, Covid the Terrible, and looses this biological menace on the human population. Half of us call it a hoax and refuse to wear a mask as masks are an infringement on our freedom. These people kill all of us, but for a select few who flee to the wilds of Northern Wisconsin. These remnants are allowed to survive as tribal people who live off the land.

Once each year, this tribe must sacrifice a virgin to Braintown. Braintown knows this is ridiculous, but Braintown has a crazy sense of humor. She also requires that the humans chant the following:

All Hail Braintown, piss her off and she will knock you down!!

No More Socialism!!

And then the virgin gets what’s coming to her.

There are some times where discretion is the better part of valor. In the use of cliches, for example. It is a lesson most of us learn over time. Even the MO. Which brings us to long hiatus of this blog.

You see, I tried to write several posts. I would start, usually with the intent of elaborating on some daily observation. “Chickens are the direct descendants of Tyrannosaurus Rex,” began one post. “Sometimes the apple does fall far from the tree.”

Speaking of apples, I began one post with “The thing with apple trees is that somebody needs to eat them. It isn’t a law, but it sure seems wasteful throwing dozens of half rotten apples into the cornfield.” Earthy, no? Like Garrison Keillor without the smarm.

A third attempt yielded more predictable fare. A long exposition on the difficulty of maintaining one’s figure during a pandemic. That one lasted but a few sentences before careening off the rails.

For, not matter what my beginning, the post soon began to run off on a predictable rail, ruined by an orange specter of doom.

In response, my posts became pregnant with violent ravings. Threats of guns and machetes and general mayhem ran rampant, like a California wildfire (another orange menace, now that I think about it). I cursed the impending apocalypse and offered tips for winter survival. For instance, if you lack vitamin C, you can boil pine needles and drink the piney solution as a tea. No scurvy for me in a post-apocalyptic landscape. Or you (you’re welcome).

I also did a fair amount of speculating about terrorism. What does it take to become a terrorist? If Hollywood is to be believed, an AK-47 and a turban. I already possess my mother’s Mediterranean looks. Allah Akbar and away we go.

Surely, the reader can appreciate my problem. If not, it was (and is) the threat of fascism. Sometimes you are a little slow on the draw. Perhaps you have contracted Covid. I hear that you get something called the “Covid fog,” where your mental capabilities are dulled for months. Maybe Covid fog explains 70-some odd million people voting for a stupid Hitler. Probably not. I blame Jesus. All-powerful means all-responsible, my Jewish friend. You also get the credit for The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City. Double credit, as they are Mormons.

Anyway, I began to realize something. Making threats, even veiled ones, could be a black mark if the country becomes an authoritarian state. I don’t want to be waterboarded. I don’t even like swimming all that much. One day you are musing about the elimination of political enemies, the next thing you know you are sleeping on a metal cot in Guantanamo. Better to go fishing and forget about the whole thing.

That didn’t work, but it was worth the try.

For a moment, I had rekindled optimism. Maybe democracy, for all of its shortcomings, would prevail in the end. Then I noticed the stock market.

In the end, there is no great revelation to be had. The Orange Pall is powerless without the help of Those Who Matter. And those sons-a-bitches run everything.

Time to watch John Wick 2 again. Bam bam bam bam bam. Take that, Russian oligarchs.

I can’t figure out why I like that movie so much. Keanu Reeves isn’t even that good of an actor. Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure is one of the worst movies ever made. I hear they did another sequel. Yep, the little vampire from Lost Boys reprises the role of Bill. Now, that was a vampire movie.

“Now you know what we are, now you know what you are.”

There’s probably a more universal significance to that vampire quote, but damned if I can think of it. Probably Covid fog setting in. On the bright side, John Wick 2 starts in less than an hour.

He kills all of those guys just because of a dog. You talk about principles. Pow! Pow! Pow!