LAUGHTER AND FORGETTING

I Am the Tomb

Of every hope

Photo by Jake Noble on Unsplash

None of us feels good any more. Even the animals feel like shit, or so they try to tell us. Dead insects are everywhere. Clearly we, the so-called “higher” organisms, cannot be far behind.

It is not just our sick bodies but our sick hearts. We should have known. We worried about the wrong thing. Scripture said fire next time. We thought that was global warming. I guess we were right, because that happened, but we would have come back from that. There is no coming back from The Great Sickness. It speaks to us:

I am the tomb
of every hope¹

Yet we are human. We must laugh, we must have music. Otherwise we might as well throw ourselves from the nearest cliff, skyscraper, or highway overpass.

The world has seen enough of that sort of thing, what with the Dead Enders and their suicidal sports, their murder sprees. If all must die why not go out with a bang, right?

Wrong. We who left ourselves behind, hid ourselves from madness, now wander the world, laughing and making our music. The Last Laugh Comedy Troupe roams the world, delighting survivors with their sketch shows. We of the Philharmonic Chorus and Orchestra of the End of Time pay them in the only currency we have. They love it, but who…