The other night I was talking to my granddaughter Jessie. We laughed until I was crying. She told me that the Mayan calender says we are suppose to die one day before she turned 15. She couldn’t even get her drivers lincense. I told her, that’s alright. A bunch of things were suppose to kill us before then and afterwards too. We got to talking about the solar flares and high altitude bomb and the effects of the EMP. She said she was going to write a letter to the government, telling them to leave Iran alone. That they were not worth losing her cell coverage over. Because, if you were going to die, the first thing you wanted to do was call all your friends. She wanted to die surrounded by attractive people.
She told me that when Harold Camping said the rapture was going to happen and what time, she got all her friends together and held hands. Twelve o’clock came and went and they were still sitting there. She said that she was going to write him a letter telling him that he made her feel like a bad girl, and that Jesus didn’t love her anymore.
She said ,”dang, just how many times are we supposed to die?” It would be bad if the dollar collasped and she couldn’t buy her cosmetics. Then I told her about the asteriod the folks over in Spain found that was suppose to hit us in Feb.15, 2013. She said at least she could get her learners permit then.
I just love that girl so much. She is truely her grandmother’s baby. I sure do miss the weekends we used to spend together. People that I worked with loved to ask me about Jessie, so my face would light up.