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Signs of the Apocalypse TIM BELFORD
I've never been a particularly suspicious sort.
Mind you, I do avoid walking under ladders, and I've been known to toss a little spilt salt over my shoulder. I don't much trust black cats either. And I wouldn't for the life of me be the third on a match.
But apart from that, I wouldn't say I'm suspicious.
That's why I find it odd that lately I can't seem to shake a sense of impending doom. Maybe it's the approaching millennium.
After all, the doom doctors are lining up to tell us why everything from the stock market to the royal family is going to crash and burn.
I mean, let's face it, the signs are all there.
I'm not talking about the troubles in Kosovo here. Nor the unrest in the Middle East. Not even the potential economic collapse of the Russian economy.
I'm talking about the real thing. The signs of the apocalypse. Ten sure-fire indicators that it's time to stock pile Campbell's soup and fresh water and head for the basement bunker.
Just think about it.
All we need now are four horsemen, a plague of frogs, and Jean Chrétien thinking about a third term in office.
Copyright © 1999 Tim Belford/Log Cabin Chronicles/4.99 |