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The Mueller Report Release, Or Why I Finally Have A Reason To Keep On Living (For A While, Anyway)

He sees and knows all

Those eyes. Those dreamy, dreamy eyes!

I recently heard a news report about elderly and terminally ill people trying to hang on long enough to see the Mueller Report come out.

My first reaction was to feel sorry for the folks who have (and who will) die before getting that wish granted. I can understand their desire to see how this pans out and where it leads next.

Getting old doesn’t just suck, it is sometimes incredibly unfair!

This reaction lasted less than a split second. In fact, if you take the smallest amount of time that we can accurately measure with today’s technology, my first reaction came and went in less time than that.

Maybe half a Planck Unit? The point is, I didn’t dwell on the old fogies that long. I had something more important to dwell on.

My second reaction was more visceral, and in all honesty, more meaningful to me. While I am not, by most definitions, ‘elderly’ and while I am not, as far as I know, suffering from any fatal illnesses (beyond the aging process itself), I too could die before the Mueller Report comes out!

This worries me.

A lot, it turns out.

First of all, we don’t know when the report is coming. Could be this month, could be next year. Who knows? I sure don’t. If I did know, I’d probably be less worried.

But now every action I take is fraught with unimaginable peril because of the chance, no matter how slim, that I could get offed before seeing the outcome of Mueller’s investigation.

Driving to work, a spider could drop down in front of me, causing me to shriek, jump back, lose control of my vehicle, shoot off the overpass, and fall to the train tracks below said overpass where an oncoming train strikes me dead.

Before the Mueller Report comes out.

Eating my lunch, a spasm of pain in my arm due to carpal tunnel syndrome could result in me shoving my sandwich unexpectedly hard into my mouth, which causes me to choke, and seeing this, a well-meaning coworker who is actually shockingly clumsy attempts the Heimlich Maneuver, screws up and shatters a rib, a fragment of which rips into my heart and kills me.

Before the Mueller Report comes out.

North Korea launches an intercontinental ballistic missile as part of a test for its nuclear program, but an error causes the missile to fly over the ocean all the way to the continental United States where, fuel finally spent, it falls down on my house and crushes me.

Before the Mueller Report comes out.

Lying in bed, reading the long-awaited and just released Mueller Report, the freshly printed paper still warm to the touch, I turn the title page but my hands, shaky from excitement and anticipation, drop the (no doubt incredibly thick) packet and a page edge brushes against my wrist, slicing a paper cut that opens an artery and leads to me bleeding out.

Before I can read the Mueller Report.

I think you get my drift. Suddenly, everything is out to kill me.

Crossing the street? Are you paying attention to the idiots on the roads these days?? Totally unacceptable risk.

Eating dinner? Have you seen the recent reports of tainted food??? Even lettuce can kill you now!

Tying my shoes? I can’t risk shoe laces – they could come undone and trip me at the worst possible moment! Nope, I’m off to the shoe store to get Velcro shoes.

Shopping at a shoe store or anywhere else? There’s the risk of stampedes, a mass shooting, a gas leak, a roof collapse, skin cancer from sun exposure, catching some nasty disease from the crowd because an anti-vaxxer just triggered an epidemic, slipping on a freshly mopped floor in the mall bathroom and cracking my head open, and I shudder to think what else is lurking out there, lying in wait, eager to deny me the satisfaction and relief of seeing that report come out.

So yeah, now I’ve finally got a compelling reason to be careful so I can keep on breathing.

At least until the report finally comes out.

And, assuming it isn’t too long, I actually bother to read it.

If I make it to that promised day, if I survive to see the final outcome, after that I guess I’ll need to find another reason to go on living.

If I’m smart, it will be something more long-term than the popcorn show of an impeachment.

Like my wife and kids.

Or something.

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Posted by on 9 March 2019 in Angst, Life

 

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