If this is the end, I’m eating strawberries

May 23, 2010

This is not just an oil spill, folks. I suspect this is a fissure in the earth’s crust. It can’t be fixed. We just signed the earth’s death warrant. If they try to fix it by blowing it up, it will only get worse. While we argue over strategies, blame, and political capital, while we struggle to provide relief for those sickened by their proximity to ground zero, the ocean will die–not just the fish and other creatures–the ocean herself will die, poisoned by oil and chemicals. The wind and the currents will whip it around the planet, covered with a layer of oil that gets thicker every day. Oil floats on the top of water. That means no more water will evaporate into the atmosphere. That means no more clouds, and no more rain. That means no more fresh water to drink, and no more crops. No broccoli, no big macs, no cigarettes. The birds and animals, the trees and grasses, yes, even that nasty crabgrass you’ve been spraying for years–all will die. When that happens, dandelions will be a delicacy, until even their memory disappears. The earth will be one barren scorching desert. Neighbors and friends will turn on each other for dwindling resources. Eventually, even family members will prey on each other. We can eat bugs for a while, till we suffocate on the fumes–when the ocean catches fire there will be no way to put it out. Until all the oxygen on the planet disappears, and the sun finally completes our attempt to turn the earth into the stinking global toxic dump we’ve been building all these years. The final poetic contribution to our global landfill will be our starved and stinking corpses.

There’s only one thing you can do at this point. Don’t waste another minute. Get out of your house, get out of your car, take off your shoes and sink your bare feet into the rich soil bursting with bugs and worms and other beneficent creatures; take a deep breath of relatively clean air, soak in all the green your eyes can find, enjoy a juicy strawberry as though it were your last–and commit all of this experience to memory, to get you through the next painful years of your life.

If you are going to pray, don’t bother praying for help. Of course God can turn this around, although it will take eons. He will start, no doubt, as soon as we are gone. No, it’s too late to ask for help. And we missed all the chances we had to say thanks. I think it’s time we prayed for forgiveness. We’re going to need it sooner than you think.