It’s the end of the world.
At least that’s what I thought last night. I was walking back to work from rehearsal on 30th Street, through the cold, past the drunk frat boys pouring out of the Knicks game at Madison Square garden, past a half dozen panhandlers, each more desperate looking than the last. As I approached the neon glare of Times Square, I read the famous NY Times news zipper, one apocalyptic headline after another:
“Powell Addresses UN.”
“China, France, Germany Reject US Unilateralism.”
“North Korea Threatens Full-Scale War.”
“NASA Says Debris Not Root Cause Of Explosion.”
And the clincher, “Texans Arrested For Selling Shuttle Parts On EBay.”
And I was like, ‘That’s it. I’ve heard it all.’
It’s a little creepy, right now, I think. There’s all this chaos swirling around the world, while “Joe Millionaire” and “Kangaroo Jack” play to huge audiences. It doesn’t make much sense. And I’m not sure where it’s headed.
But today’s another day, and it was a busy one spent planning for what appears to be an imminent attack on Iraq, and for the Grammys (seems absurd to mention in the same breath, but there it is). I worked until 11 last night, and was back in at 9. It’s 8:30 now, and I gotta’ roll, ‘cuz I’ll be back here in a flash. G’night.
God help us.