Prophet and Loss
By ice rivers
- 380 reads
I have been without honor in my native land for quite awhile. My name is Jeremiah. I'm thinking in my next job, I ought to be a prophet. The pay for prophets is not particularly good and there's always the risk of a stoning, a hanging or various types of public shaming. Every so often someone gets something right and is immediately elevated to the status of prophet but usually that person is just another fake comedian who spotted a parade and jumped in front of it, a person who borrowed a watch and told the person from whom the watch was borrowed the time of day even though the watch had stopped at what turned out to be close to whatever time it actually was.
I, on the other hand, am always wrong in the present but right in the future. I have a predilection towards doom which nobody wants to hear. Most of my most unpopular predictions have been outcomes that when they occurred people said "that shouldn't have happened". Guess what? Whatever happened should have happened, we just didn't want it to happen.
Figuring out what we don't want to happen is the best guide towards prophecy. Remember today's heresy is tomorrow's orthodoxy. Today's hypocrisy was yesterday's truth. It's not so much that we have a shortage of imagination rather that we have an ver reliance on wisdom.
So shit happens.
I'm hoping somebody around here opens up a Tragedy Club, where people can come and cry in their beer and be rewarded with more beer which leads to more crying which leads to more beer which eventually becomes, relevant, truthful and prophetic. What begins as pathetic grovels its way to sympathetic,,,,empathetic and finally prophetic.
The tragedy is that by the time, the prophecy has been revealed everybody in the audience including the tragedian himself is too wasted to remember what it was and when it ultimately happens are the least prepared for it.
In the meantime, I'll continue my current occupation as a NFL handicapper in my new town until they figure out how dishonorable I am and force me to once again head for the hills.
The hills are where I can find the few people who are older than me as we sit around our hovels, stripped of our moose suits and predict the future of grizzlies, wolves, beaver and butterflies.
How far up in the hills are we? Let's put it this way, we have to head TOWARDS the city when we want to go hunting.
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