They say the rapture could happen any day now. Which is exciting, sure – but also kind of inconvenient. I’m not ready yet. There are still loose ends to tie up: scandals to watch unravel, indictments to be handed down, democracy to completely finish imploding. The way things are going, I can’t just be swept away into the clouds without seeing how this series ends.
Because that’s what it feels like, doesn’t it? Politics has turned into prestige TV. There are cliffhangers every week, shocking betrayals, surprise character deaths, and plot twists so absurd you’d think the writers’ room was staffed by Loony Tunes cartoonists. If the rapture hits now, I’ll miss the season finale; the one where we finally find out if the rule of law survives or if we all – the world, that is, not just American – lives under The Donald Show: Apocalypse Edition.
Imagine sitting in heaven, watching the highlights reel: “Here’s where America banned books, here’s where they jailed the journalists, here’s where the nukes started flying.” No thank you. I’d rather see it play out live, popcorn in hand, shouting at the screen like everyone else.
And honestly, what if the rapture isn’t even the good news it’s cracked up to be? What if it’s just another plot twist? What if we get up there and find out heaven has been overrun by ICE agents, the angels are in hiding, and St. Peter is working remotely due to DOGE budget cuts? What if the rapture is just the prelude to a celestial tax audit?
So yes, I am not ready for the rapture – not because I doubt it, but because reality has gotten too fascinatingly absurd to leave early. This is history’s most chaotic season, and we’re all unwitting extras in the finale. To be taken now would feel like bailing at halftime, just when the game is getting good.
So if the trumpets sound today, you’ll find me clutching the armrest, yelling, “Not yet!” The world may be ending, but I’m staying for the last act. I haven’t finished watching democracy collapse. (Plus there’s still some leftover ice cream cake in the freezer.)
Call it morbid curiosity, call it commitment to seeing how bad it gets – either way, I’m not missing the credits roll.
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Just a flim flam man and his clapped-out travelling show of clowns, spooks and frauds, who are nowhere near anything that’s remotely amusing or useful.
I remember being told in around 1975 that the rapture was almost upon us.
They’ve been predicting Raptures ever since the invention of the concept, which was around 1830 (yes, I’m that old). It’s like the “Men Going Their Own Way” thing – can’t they just get the hell on with it and leave the rest of us in peace?
Shame on you Roswell, you should have been prepared!
I’ve had my sandals at the ready for months and my wife has fashioned a fitted sheet as part of my ensemble [cotton and polyester she reckons washes up quite well] – I can’t grow my hair but maybe extensions would be acceptable – who do I speak to?
I’m all enraptured by my potential rapture. Then again, my rapturing may well be ruptured if my rapture doesn’t occur. Ah well, there’s always next year.
I still have clothes in the dryer. It’s a race against time.
What does one wear to a Rapture? Is it formal or informal? Do I need to wear a tie? I suppose I do… you never know who you’ll run into.
Speaking of ties, I could never work out why James Mason wore a tie in his journey to the centre of the Earth.
If the Rapture incudes the people currently screwing America, you can include me out.Imagine rubbing shoulders with TV evangelists,carpet baggers,Charlie Kirkers,et al.Magats?Or is that hell ?Or christofascists,for Christ’s sake?
I truly believe that the Rapture is in the same class as the Mayan Calendar. People are just clutching at straws.
But I do believe that if Jesus Christ came to earth today, he wouldn’t shake trump’s hand, he’d say, “What the hell are you doing?! Where in the Bible does it say what you’re claiming?!”