Apocalypse

Many people like to look for signs of the end of the world. Maybe it's the war on terror or maybe it's the Friends' spinoff "Joey". Yesterday I thought it was Yanni getting arrested. Today it's David Hasselhoff. But you know whether you're a man or a woman or a wee person, you shouldn't admit getting beaten up by Yanni.

In other news, my friend tells me that he's hiring a 'life coach'. Apparenlty this is all the rage. I picture my high school football coach, Mr. Solie, all short and squatty and ticked off and yelling from the tight confines of his coaching spandex. I don't know why coaches, no matter how rotund, insist on the snug fit. A life coach might demand something more comfortable, maybe a muu-muu, because I'd imagine someone qualified to coach life would be familiar with maximum comfort. Which begs the question, what kind of qualifications are necessary to coach life? Would the best ones take their 'life team' to the March Madnes of living? Would ESPN's news scroll feature the latest life coach's to be fired or promoted. Good assistant life coaches would be picked up by struggling livers, like the Houston Texans. I guess I do have to hand it to Mr. Solie. Aside from often appearing in my nightmares, this shrink-wrapped spandex warrior, who made a living yelling insults at children, taught me a lot about life. For one, you have to have one before it can be coached.

Anyway, back to where we started, which was 'the end'.  Instead of the pick-up line "What's your sign?," I think a more interesting icebreaker is "What's your sign of the apocalypse?"  Perhaps it's cubicles.  Discuss.