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Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

Comet Sends Fiery Message Of Destruction

Jim Kershner The Spokesman-Revi

The entire darn family was standing on the shoulder of a rural road, oohing and aahing over a smidgen of a lint-patch in the sky. It was the Comet Cuyahoga, or whatever, and we were overcome with awe, wonder, reverence, etc., because it looked like a mayfly splat on the great windshield of the night.

And then, I remembered a little-known bit of comet lore.

“I hate to bring this up,” I said. “But comets have been seen for centuries as harbingers of disaster, wars and epidemics.”

My teenage children looked at me with what seemed to be dread. Their faces, in the moonlight, appeared drained of color, ashen. Then they uttered this word: “Cool.”

All right, so maybe it wasn’t dread. But the idea of the comet as harbinger of disaster certainly made them think. In the midst of all of the awe and wonder which surrounds the appearance of a giant frozen gas ball in the sky, I had introduced a note of primitive, superstitious terror. What could this comet, this cosmic mohair fuzz-ball, portend?

I’ve got an idea. Let’s play “Let’s Portend.”

Let’s figure out which disaster is coming to earth on the filmy coattails of the Comet Kaopectate, or whatever:

The Presidential Inauguration of Pat Buchanan. Please, oh mighty comet, bring us the ebola virus instead. Although, on the positive side, the Buchanan election would allow many of us to fulfill a lifelong fantasy of being heroic members of the Resistance. As I peruse the delegate count and the preference polls, however, I see that I need not go out and purchase a beret quite yet.

The Internet As The Primary Form of Human Communication. This is all I need to make my old age fulfilling: The prospect of sitting home alone and “chatting” with people whose idea of humor is to create a smiley face with punctuation, and who are probably aging, bald pedophiles only pretending to be vivacious blond radiologists named Dr. Emily Starkweather. Gee, maybe if I’m lucky my grandchildren will regularly message me on-line and give me punctuation “hugs.”

Global warming. I don’t know about you, but I am not so crazy about August the way it is now. Just think of what we can expect if the worldwide temperature rises a few degrees: more fat men going topless. The entire L.A. metro area would be several fathoms deep, but all of the other repercussions would be negative.

Interactive Television. Surely the Comet Hitachi, or whatever, wouldn’t do this to us. I believe I speak for all Americans when I say that passivity is exactly what we love about TV.

The Presidential Inauguration of Bob Dole. Disaster is the wrong word, considering the alternatives. Still, the evidence is overwhelming. The comet is a cold, inanimate lump of frozen gas; Bob Dole is a … well, the symbolism is all falling into place.

Another High-Profile Celebrity Trial. Suffice to say that it would end in a sickening miscarriage of justice: The jury finds Jim Carrey both innocent and “funny.”

Yet More Anti-Government Standoffs. In the wake of the Comet Comitatus, or whatever, a new and chilling wave of extremist groups dare the government to come into their heavily fortified hideaways and take them dead or alive. Then they get all indignant when it turns out to be “alive.”

The Third Party Candidacy of Ross Perot. Surely, even a frozen collection of space-gravel wouldn’t be this cruel. Just when America had expunged his flapping ears and yapping mouth from its collective memory, here comes Perot riding in on Comet Howdy Y’all, or whatever, barking like an annoying Chihuahua, and virtually guaranteeing four more years of Clinton. All things considered, I’d prefer pestilence.

The truth is, as I told the wife and kids, none of these awful things will come to pass. A comet cannot bring bad luck and calamity to the earth; that notion is mere nonsense and superstition.

As a believer in rational science, I know that the worst thing a comet can do is crash into the earth, thus destroying all civilization and life.

Compared with the Buchanan thing, that doesn’t sound so bad.

, DataTimes MEMO: To leave a message on Jim Kershner’s voice-mail, call 459-5493. Or send e-mail to jimk@spokesman.com, or regular mail to Spokesman-Review, P.O. Box 2160, Spokane, WA 99210.

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To leave a message on Jim Kershner’s voice-mail, call 459-5493. Or send e-mail to jimk@spokesman.com, or regular mail to Spokesman-Review, P.O. Box 2160, Spokane, WA 99210.

The following fields overflowed: CREDIT = Jim Kershner The Spokesman-Review