The good news is a few days ago I wrote that I had lost whining privileges. As of today, though, I now get to enjoy my whine.

Seems the folks who wanted to meet with me tomorrow and talk about my mad skillz changed their minds and went with some other folk(s). I feel a little stood up on a much-anticipated blind date. I got the voicemail when I sadly (ironically) was in the laundry room (or kind of laundry hut or laundry dog house) washing my planned interview outfit.

The other good news is I’m pretty damn sure the End Times are fucking nigh, so it really doesn’t matter. With impending global destruction as a new leader in a new fundamentalist branch arises, why worry about the petty little footprints of my daily existence, right?

Honest to fucking god (or whatever force fucks this planet up), 9/11 was truly chilling and the pure hatred of fundamentalism Muslims is a serious threat. On top of that, cowboy G.W.’s wacky brand of fundamentalist Christian has brought “god” and “values” to enough rhetoric to make Cotton Mather jealous. And, now we have the Inquisitor Pope bringing back good, old-fashioned wholesome values like keeping a little priestly pedophilia secret and smacking down heretics.

I sure as heck hope the Likud doesn’t come up with their own crazed rabbi leader next, itching to make Sharon seem like a softie.

My little rainbow or olive branch or other cloying simple of hope is twofold. Good old Tom DeLay is in enough trouble that fervent Christians have a special prayers just for him (‘cuz, you know, God hates in when liberals and non-Bible banging Republicans start talking about the truth).

The other half of the hope rainbow/branch is John Bolton is going to have slow down on any plans to decorate a new office. (You do have to wonder about the bizarro world in which a guy with a badass reputation for an assholic temper could become the country’s leading diplomat. Guess diplomacy ain’t required.)