The Clam is excited to bring you differing views on topics of import. For instance, earlier this week we discussed each of our opinions on the viewership of professional football in light of the recent controversies regarding the NFL and revelations of head injury among even junior players of the sport. Yesterday, KT Toomey, tired of the recent unprecedented snowfall and the numerous difficulties in managing its myriad negative effects, opined that Gloucester would be better off in a tropical location. Jim Dowd provides a counterpoint in today’s entry.
Though my colleague may be a wise and intuitive person, in this case I must stand up and should “I disagree!” I, for one, welcome the time of The Great Wolves and the cleansing of the Earth. The old gods must die. All must perish.
With these past few snows, it has become increasingly clear that Ragnarok is upon us. Soon, we shall hear the crowing of the three roosters. We shall not bother to flee by using bandsaws to float away, for it will only prolong the inevitable death we all so richly deserve. We will turn on our fellow man, and there will be none spared, as the rivers shall run red with the blood of our brothers. Do not beg for mercy, for there will be none when Skoll and Hatt devour the sun and moon and the walls of Asgard fall. The great serpent will rise from the sea, and the sky shall split in two . You will be cold no more when the fire giant sets the world alight.
All your cares of snowbanks, walkways, plowed-in cars and jackholes parking in the Market Basket fire lane because they don’t want to tread through the slushy lot shall seem as nothing when the sky goes black and the shards of the firmament itself fall onto the earth, piercing all living things like spears. The wailing and gnashing of teeth is far better than Costa Rica’s rampant socialism and impressive literacy rate.
From this day forward, nothing but pain shall fall from the skies above. First a torrent of snow, then a hail of ice, then stones, fire and finally water shall cover all. All of your kitschy hipster wall art will be gone, along with everything and everyone you’ve ever known or loved. Even Mick Jagger. There will be a thousand years of stillness. However there will be no giant spiders.
But new gods rise. They shall bring forth life from seed, and the world shall again know green. Two survivors, who survive by consuming the morning dew, shall bear forth many generations and again repopulate our world. We will have a new, beautiful sun that shall shine down on our fresh green and blue world.
But we shall know none of this future, for we are doomed. Our fate has already been decided. There is no hope.
Jim Dowd is a motivational speaker who lives in Gloucester. His first book, “The Thundering Cataclysm: Let Me Explain How We’re All Gonna Die” is in stores now.
Two people to re-populate.
….and Keith Richards.
Harsh.
But UNTIL that happens, couldn’t we enjoy a little Costa Rica sunshine and some slushy drinks?
1. Favorite short snippet: “There is no hope. — Jim Dowd is a motivational speaker who lives in Gloucester.”
2. People are getting really confused with the comments link to each entry being ABOVE the entry, whereas every other blog on the interweb places that BELOW. Just did it myself and saw some old lady chiding Jim Tarantino about it being a KT post when he was giving you prop’s. Fix this.