The problem with the apocalypse was there was no single event.
You couldn’t say, “where were you when . . ..” The day the asteroid hit. The day they nuked Milan. The towers fell. They shot JR. Or Kennedy. Our apocalypse was a creeping end. Like zombies, or carpet beetles.
Instead, we talked about the clowns .
Tonight Julie is on about the fucking clowns. I hated the clowns. We all hated the clowns. But it’s done, I mean, why do we have to keep hashing it over?
“And do you remember her book? Going Maverick? Do you remember that?”
Jeremy the Clown had saved the AI revolution from its own destructive impulses, but everyone felt funny about it.
Do you suffer from coulrophobia? Are you haunted by images of that clown at your sixth birthday party — you know, the one where the clown turned balloon art into something that made your mother scream and your father inexplicably start wailing on him?