Charita Goshay: It’s a sign! Of the mid-winter blahs ...
Last week, only hours after Pope Benedict XVI announced that he was resigning, a bolt of lightning struck the cupola of St. Peter’s Basilica, the epicenter of the world’s largest church.
It was a random act of nature but one too good for critics to resist. Some of the same people who ignore the blinking “cliff ahead” warnings in their own lives are always certain that God is finger-wagging at everyone else.
It’s reminiscent of a few years ago when facing fell from St. Peter’s Catholic Church in downtown Canton, Ohio, and lopped off the head of a statue, and some Protestants convinced themselves it was a sign.
Sure. A sign of gravity.
Last week ended with a massive meteorite streaking over Siberia, Russia, astonishingly injuring more than 1,200 people when it exploded a few miles above the Earth. Hours later, an asteroid half the size of a football field nearly nicked Earth — if 17,000 miles can be considered a swipe.
On Sunday night, yet another possible meteor shower was spotted over Miami.
Is all of this a sign of the apocalypse?
No, a sign of the apocalypse is the Seattle Mariners paying $175 million for a pitcher in the offseason.
Signs of the end times probably should include the national media treating Sen. Marco Rubio’s water sip like it was actual news, and CNN giving unrelenting coverage to a crippled cruise ship even as the country teeters at the abyss of sequestered budget cuts and finds itself without a secretary of Defense — whom we’ll need to defend ourselves against the aliens who obviously are hurtling rocks from space.
Even the people trapped on that over-reported cruise knew better. CNN correspondent Martin Savidge was set straight by a passenger for trying to compare a vacation gone wrong to surviving Hurricane Katrina.
Yep. That’s a sign that someone should be embarrassed to be on TV.
If it’s signs you seek, consider the Frankenstorms, droughts and wildfires that seem to be occurring with more intensity and frequency, and the warm-temperature records that are being shattered like 78s.
And no, such weather isn’t a sign that God is ticked at Breezy Point, Queens, yet not at Las Vegas, where crazy weather never occurs.
The pessimism fueled by TV shout fests, talk radio and the Internet is a warning sign that the can-do optimism that always has been an American hallmark is endangered. However, it’s understandable because if the new Congress is a harbinger, we’re in deep. Between lobbyists, personal grudges and demagoguery, there’s more muck clogging the halls of Capitol Hill than in a food fight on “Here Comes Honey Boo Boo.”
Our current outbreak of looky-here silliness is a sure sign of the mid-winter blahs, the time of year when the universe leaves us to our own devices and March Madness is still too far away. Not even catfished girlfriends, Mardi Gras or finding Richard III have been enough to salve our discontent.
But not to worry. It’s only four more months until shark-bite season.
Contact Charita Goshay at firstname.lastname@example.org.