Anyone whom I know out there in Cyberville feel that 7.2 earthquake that just happened (it’s 2:58 p.m. California time) in Baja California?
Rocked our little piece of the world, I’m here to report. For a full 35 gottdang seconds.
I was in the kitchen preparing my once-a-week martini, which apparently angered God. But, as it happens, I do like my martinis shaken, not stirred.
Wait. Maybe God wasn’t angry that I was having a martini. Maybe he was trying to help me make it.
I’m sure that’s it. I’m sure the major earthquake we just had was God’s way of helping me prepare my martini.
God is great! He sometimes maybe overdoes things just a little bit — but great!
Anyway, once we understood that it wasn’t going to actually kill us, my wife and I, in our bathrobes (that’s right: we groom), hustled right outside into the (relative) safety of God’s (more or less) open space.
Lots of people were already out there, looking around, shaken.
Get it? Shaken? Cuz it was an earthquake?!
Can you believe I give you comedy like that for free? Me, neither.
You know how, in an emergency, you look at whatever happened or caused the trouble? In an earthquake, if nothing’s actually fallen or damaged, you run outside, and then just stand there. You wanna look at something — but at what? The sky? The ground — to see if it’s still wiggling? At the nearest buildings? Again?
Turns out that, as a bit of a default, you end up looking toward the people around you, who have also run outside.
I’m very pleased to report that, as a result of none of us having horribly perished, I have now made the acquaintance any number of my neighbors.
Clearly, God wants me drunk and socializing.
If that’s the cross I have to bear, then so be it.
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