In case anyone wonders what, it has been like in New York City the last few weeks, it’s been like that old black and white TV show, The Twilight Zone. We just don’t know which episode we’re in. It seems like one with Aliens. Maybe the Aliens are living next door or down the street, or they’re all on a hill just outside of town in Scarsdale. But they’re here.
And, they are going to take over and soon. They look and speak and dress just like us so we can’t even tell who the aliens are. In fact, most of us don’t have any idea that they’re even here. But some of us know. We’re not sure who that is as yet but they are trying desperately to warn us. One of those in the know could be our Governor Cuomo The Younger. Another could be Dr. Fauci, no, probably Dr. Brix. It’s definitely not Mayor De Blasio. He doesn’t have a clue. He never does. And it’s not Joe Biden. He might be one of them. How does this all end? Will the those in the know be able to warn us in time? Or will the Aliens eat us? That’s why they’re here. We’re dinner.
Or it could be one of those episodes where we are in another dimension. We wake up in our bed and everything seems fine but then we look around and something is askew. Then something else doesn’t quite fit and then we realize we’re not at home. We’re somewhere else but where? And, how to get back? We don’t know what to do. We only know we have to find a lot of toilet paper. Somehow, that is the key to it all.
Or it could be one those episodes where we find ourselves in an old, idyllic, little town in rural America around 1890. It’s summer. The sun is shining bright. There is a brass band playing. Kids are running about, playing and laughing. Young couples are walking, hand and hand. It’s all just perfect. There is only one problem, we’re dead. The train or the plane crashed or we just had enough and checked out on our own but it’s over. It’s all over. And somehow, that’s a good thing.
Dicens simle factum est
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