It must be a tough life for those who are always looking for the next huge Armageddon to begin, or for the next big threat to raise its ugly head only to be disappointed when nothing happens, forcing them to look for the next one. They seem to be obsessed with anticipating the worst.

They seem to thrive on the possibility of destruction. They hope for it.

Last summer we had all those kids crossing the border from Central America. They were going to overrun the place, take our jobs, and vote for Obama.

Here on Cape Cod they were going to be housed at Joint Base Cape Cod, formerly Otis Air Force Base, although the only movement in that direction had been the White House asking the Massachusetts governor to have the feasibility of its use as a processing station investigated.

Locals warned of hoards of children climbing over the fences, invading the local community, committing crime, and totally destroying the local school systems.

The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

Crime and disease would be rampant throughout the land. Our lives as we knew them would never be the same.

They never came. The apoplexy had been wasted. The embarrassment about people’s reactions and language was great and lasting

No one talk about it anymore.

Then Ebola came.

People coming across the border were to be the way the plague would enter this country, but it would only come from the people from the southern border because, apparently, the more acceptable people who snuck over the northern border were not diseased.

Ebola would devastate the country, and would be the fault of all those who came sneaking across the border unclean.

In spite of the fact that part of the processing they went through was medical inspection and none had been found to be carrying Ebola, and the fact that the first civilian case of Ebola came into the country by way of an American citizen on a commercial flight, and three other cases came by way of those who had been treating people in Africa, people still insisted that the Central American kids were the incubators.

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That host with their banners at sunset were seen:
Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.

The plague never came.

We don’t talk about it anymore.

Then measles hit.

The doomsday-gotta-blame-the-the-brown-people-crowd just knew measles were being brought here by them.

Nevermind that there are a lot of antivaxxers who have the most misguided reasons upon which they base their refusal to have their children vaccinated ranging from its causing autism to our freedom not to have our own kids vaccinated along with the freedom to expose other people’s kids to illness.

The disease hit, but it began at Disney Land, a place that anyone who has been there knows has an admission price that is out of the price range for those who slipped across the border.

Things did not go as the dooms day people claimed it would.

And now we hear little about vaccines and measles.

It seems that more time and worry is spent on to many things hat just do not happen.

Life is short, and there are a lot of good things happening, and about to happen.
These people need to give it a rest.

“Let us do something, while we have the chance! It is not every day that we are needed. Not indeed that we personally are needed. Others would meet the case equally well, if not better. To all mankind they were addressed, those cries for help still ringing in our ears! But at this place, at this moment of time, all mankind is us, whether we like it or not. Let us make the most of it, before it is too late! Let us represent worthily for one the foul brood to which a cruel fate consigned us! What do you say? It is true that when with folded arms we weigh the pros and cons we are no less a credit to our species. The tiger bounds to the help of his congeners without the least reflexion, or else he slinks away into the depths of the thickets. But that is not the question. What are we doing here, that is the question. And we are blessed in this, that we happen to know the answer. Yes, in the immense confusion one thing alone is clear. We are waiting for Godot  Ebola to come — ”
― Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot