The morning has broken and aside from the normal attrition, the world is not lighter by even one fanatic. It is a lovely dampish Sunday morning, a fine day for playing pooh-sticks. Regardless, I feel a twinge of disappointment that the rapture did not occur and suck the faithful up into the air like so many dust bunnies attacked by a sturdy Hoover.
Well, the world abides and the whole durn human race along with it. Until we don't, I reckon.
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