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Signs That My Doomsday Is Nigh

I've said it before: I am a worst-case scenario kind of guy. My paranoia stems from growing up believing that I, personally, was a strategic target in the Cold War.

We lived in the shadow of the Zion Nuclear Power Plant. As a child, I once read that nuclear bombs did more damage and killed more people 40 miles away from the blast center than at Ground Zero.

As a result, I grew up convinced that that the Russians had targeted the Zion power plant as a way to increase the Megadeath toll in Chicago and Milwaukee, each about 40 miles from Zion. The Soviet concept was perfect; the best way to kill everyone in one of America's largest population centers was to double the radioactive fallout by nuking a nuclear power plant.

It doesn't make any sense now, but as a twisted kid raised on The Day After, heavy metal and Red Dawn, it was as real as the nose on my face.

I didn't tell anyone about the deadly Soviet plan because I was convinced the Russians spies watched me constantly. They couldn't risk their best move to kill Americans by having a loudmouth 10-year-old blabbing about their targets. I suspected many people, mostly teachers and crossing guards, of being communist spies about to poison my lunch. There was an enemy in every corner.

It didn't take much of this thinking for me to become a paranoid, secretive and slightly fascist kid; those attitudes imprinted on me as an adult and, presto, today the world is a deadly place always teetering on the verge of getting much, much worse. And "they" are out to get you if you ever open your fat mouth.

Obviously, the Soviets never bombed Zion. The power plant is now shut down. The Russians have fully accounted for and deactivated their nuclear arsenal. No worries there. We are safe from Soviet missile attacks.

But that doesn't mean my doomsday paranoia is gone. Not by a longshot.

It's a paranoia that manifests itself in an aggressive frustration. I assume the worst and wildly overreact to the littlest thing. Everything is always a bigger deal than it needs to be.

Here, then, are my signs that Doomsday is nigh:

1. Reply All.

If Beachwood Steve takes more than five minutes to reply to my latest list submission it means that he hates it, hates me, and that my career is absolutely over. I must have done something to upset him, it must've been that thing I said about the Cubs, oh shit, what have I done wrong. This is the worst thing to ever happen to me. Oh man, I am never going to be a writer now.

This also holds true for calls to my parents, e-mails to my friends, Facebook updates and my wife.

2. ETA.

My plane/train/bus is late. I am never going to get to where I am going now. I might as well just go home and fucking forget it. I don't know why I even bother leaving the house. This is why I should never go anywhere.

3. PC Load Letter.

I hate electronics, especially when they are blinking. I am going to throw that thing the fuck away if it doesn't stop flashing and making that noise. I don't care how much it cost, sweetheart, it's going out the window if it doesn't shut up.

4. Frothy Lube.

I recently read an article that said that Rick Santorum is considered a legitimate candidate for the Republican presidential nomination. The piece claimed that he was going to run on a "See, I was right" platform. The political end is here for this country if that whack job is given one second of cable news airtime . . . oh, wait. Shit.

5. 3,500 Calories.

If the weight scale moves even a hair in the wrong direction, I am going to die of a coronary within minutes. In fact, I feel my heart racing now. Not to mention how people are making fun of me for being so fat. I mean, they know, every single one of them in the cafe, just knows that the pie my wife made me added two pounds. Those two girls over there, they are whispering about how fat I look and how gross I am. It's all they can talk about. Goddamn, I should have never left the house.

I know: I won't eat at all tomorrow.

6. Crotch Shot.

Forget bread and circuses - the true sign of the collapse of the American empire is TMZ and The Bachelorette. If we are living in a world where TMZ passes as content, then the Four Horsemen can't be far behind.

Really, some dipshit from a forgotten reality show stumbling out of a seedy bar counts as entertainment? What the fuck.

7. Can't You Hear Me Knocking.

I recently saw a television show claiming Ronnie Wood has been seen live in person by more people than anyone else on Earth (owing to his extensive touring with the Stones, New Barbarians and the Faces). Think about that if it's true; more people have laid eyes on the Brillo pad body of an admitted crackhead and alcoholic than the Pope, the president and Jesus.

8. Onward Christian Soldiers.

Goddamnit, this fucking thing. I swear to fucking God, if this doesn't come off. Goddamnit. Ahhhh, errgh, sonuvabitch. That's it, I fucking give up.


Comments welcome.


Other Lists By Drew Adamek:
* Today's Syllabus
* Shit My Dad Says
* Work Weirdos
* Things I Miss About Chicago
* 20 Albums I Wish I Had Never Bought
* Their Chicago
* Cities I've Slept In
* My Favorite 1980s Chicago Radio Memories
* Why Milwaukee Rules
* Why I'm Glad I Don't Live In D.C. Anymore
* The Beer Goggle Recordings
* A List Of Reader Comments To Drew's Lists
* Life's Little Victories
* The Worst Jobs I've Ever Had
* Jobs For The Zombie Apocalypse
* Lemme Get A Bite Of That
* Lists I'll Never Write
* Things I Miss About My Imprisoned Best Friend
* Things I Miss About Being Single
* Things I Love About Being Married
* Why Chuck D Should Have Been Our First Black President
* Picture This
* My Suggestions For Ways To Further Desecrate Wrigley Field
* Signs I Am Getting Older
* My Most Memorable Half-Assed Ideas
* Why My Mom Rules
* My Summer To-Do List

* Fan Note: Me & Metallica


Posted on June 17, 2010

MUSIC - Chief Keef Changed The Industry.
TV - Vizio's Best Product Is You.
POLITICS - UIC: Soda Taxes Work.
SPORTS - More McCaskey Malpractice.

BOOKS - All About Poop.


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