Every few years “the true believers” head for the hills because judgement day is upon us. Today, May 21st, is one of those days. This is the day that all God’s chosen folks will be lifted up to heaven. The rest of us? Well, apparently we will have a bad few months before we are consumed in the fires of hell.
Apocalyptic predictions have a long, and mostly meaningless, history. The end of the world is forecast on a fairly regular basis. Reverend Harold Camping the instigator of the May 21st movement has gotten it wrong once before in 1994 due to an “error in math”.
Still, this snake oil salesman is confident that this time his math is correct and that by dinner time he will be sitting up there at the right hand of God smirking at all of us who will be left behind. The proof, he pronounces arrogantly, is all in the bible. The bible, of course, is a 2,000 year old quasi-history of some alleged events in the middle east.
It is a pity that many of the poor saps who believed him have given up their worldly possessions and spent their life savings erecting billboards around the country to upset the gullible. Just imagine how they are going to feel, when they wake up tomorrow morning safe and secure in their own beds and wondering if their sinful brothers in law will sign back the deed to the house?
Now, just to be fair, secular scientists have been predicting the end of the world for almost as long. If we listen to the scientific community over the past few years the end is coming from global climate change; or a meteor strike; or a super volcano; or Africanized honey bees. Take your pick.
Just be sure that the end is coming.
Which leads me to the real topic this time; drinking.
Many of my friends are non drinkers, for some it is a matter of principal for others it is a matter of taste. Whatever their reason I respect it. However, I do enjoy a drink now and then and my favorite cocktail is a dry Martini served straight up with an olive.
However, the Martini, that perfect combination of good gin, dry vermouth, shaken over ice cubes and topped with a speared olive has become adulterated. Its simple elegance has been supplanted by concoctions featuring chocolate or apple juice all bearing the name “martini”.
These abominations rank up there with citrus and berry flavored beers and top the scale of vileness. If you want to drink apple juice and gin, fine, just call it something else. If you like your vodka infused with chocolate more power to you, again just don’t use the “M” word to describe it.
To repeat a martini is made with gin, dry vermouth and topped with an olive (okay, I might allow a twist of lemon if you insist) and that’s it. It is not the “tinis” that Bay Street weasels consume night after night in whatever bar is trendy that week.
Oh, stop me now, I’m going off the deep end here.
Okay, to sum up Apocalypse not now and only pure Martinis allowed.
I’ll drink to that.