I saw a decrepit old white man on the internet, a self-proclaimed vendor of Holy words for profit, and as his head bobbled around, his skeletal jaw flapped out the truly Christian response to the illegal horror of the Russian invasion of a sovereign Ukraine: God compelled Putin to attack Ukraine so as to bring on the End Times. *
And here I thought the End Times were part of the Gay Agenda all along.
But I’m not too worried about Pat Robertson shuffling off the mortal coil before the Kingdom of God is restored on earth, and besides, he’ll probably miss the event unless he moves to Pigeon Forge. However, the sight of that bag of delusional bones made me recoil from the thought of becoming a wobbly drooling zombie reduced to Books-On-Tape and forced to watch reruns of Queen-For-A-Day. What if I don’t like strained peas?
I start contemplating death now because I realize that I have lived most of my active life and whatever remains is just rounding error. My back, which was only supposed to hold out until I was forty-five, is giving out and I envision a wheelchair in the near. future. I’m undergoing many tests to ascertain the real reasons for my bodily decline and operating on an unacceptable level of oxygen seems to be the culprit. I’ve slept with oxygen bleeding through my Bi-Pap for years but now I may be placed on oxygen all day long. Since I tend to sit hour after hour reading at my desk, I’m a good candidate for this therapy but the image of a white-haired old man slumped in a wheelchair with a face mask pumping oxygen from a torpedo-tube strapped to the chair is at best, sad.
But I’ll be able to sit here, reading book after book, making little comments on my weblog, and wondering if my catheter bag is getting full. Then one day …
But until then, I am truly enjoying most of the books I am reading, even the detective novels. For March I’m starting out with this list:
- A Man of the People — Chinua Achebe
- The Year of the Flood — Margaret Atwood
- The Wild Asses Skin — Honoré de Balzac
- Manchild in the Promised Land — Claude Brown
- Floating in a Most Peculiar Way — Louis Chude-Sokei
- The Divine Invasion — Philip K. Dick
- The Last Thing He Wanted — Joan Didion
- The Adolescent – Fyodor Dostoevsky
- “E” Is for Evidence — Sue Grafton
- The Ministry of Fear — Graham Greene
- Travels With Herodotus — Ryszard Kapuscinski
- Your Face Tomorrow: Fever and Spear — Javier Marías
- Sweet Tooth — Ian McEwan
- Swimming Lessons — Rohinton Mistry
- The Bone Clocks — David Mitchell
- The Bat — Jo Nesbø
- The Gravedigger’s Daughter — Joyce Carol Oates
- Bewilderment — Richard Powers
- Madame Maigret’s Friend — Georges Simenon
- Brazil — John Updike
As time permits, I’m considering reading (or at least starting) Ken Follet’s Kingsbridge series in my endeavor to chip away at my Bucket List:
- The Pillars of the Earth
- World Without End
- A Column of Fire
- The Evening and the Morning
- For those who enjoy wrapping their brains around logic puzzles, try completing this sequence:
- Pat Robertson: The re-election of Donald Trump will bring about the end Times.
- Donald Trump lost.
- Pat Robertson: Putin was compelled by God to attack Ukraine and bring about the End Times.
4 thoughts on “End Times and Kinsey Millhone”
Sorry that your health us deteriorating. I hope the medicos can at least slow it. I think you will enjoy the Follett books, I know I did.
Considering the fact that I can barely get around, have trouble seeing, and my nose drips incessantly, my dance card is quite full. First, I’m still eating well but with diuretics I am forced to hobble to the loo once or twice and hour; add that to a healthy nine to twelve hours sleeping (hiding out under the covers?) and my free hours are somewhat limited.
My primary task each day is, of course, reading. But as I proudly read those stuffy old classics I missed at university, I pine for the less demanding stimulus of a gory murder mystery, maybe with a measured quantity of gratuitous sex thrown in. It’s probably no secret, but I have made extensive lists of such genre fiction and it’s daunting. Although I can’t imagine someone keeping up with some of these prolific authors, I have to remind myself of all those books I read by Georges Simenon, Robert B. Parker, and Michael Bond.
So I’m reading the first two or three titles by many of these new authors, and intend to read more if I’m intrigued.
In addition, although I often feel guilty, I have been watching many movies and series on the internet. My son-in-law has access to most video providers and I have added a couple, especially Criterion. I’ve gotten good with internet series, watching one or two and guiltlessly turning it off if it doesn’t bring me joy (or gore or sex or knowledge). I especially enjoy murder mysteries or detective procedurals from ice-bound countries that speak obscure languages.
Note: Most science fiction or fantasy still doesn’t hold my interest.
I too am rereading and discovering classics. I am 75 so there’s lots still to read and less time. I occasionally crave a crime novel or SF, but also read a lot of history and books about books. Keep as well as you can.