The other night Green Girl and Mr. D attended a benefit for a woman with brain tumors. It's a sad story, she's young, with a lovely husband and 2 young kids. She's permanently debilitated by a series of tumors. Green Girl and Mr. D bought some raffle tickets and bid on some auction items to support her care.
You know how no one wins the big raffle prizes?
In Wisconsin those big raffle prizes aren't trips to the Bahamas, they're ginormous amounts of alcohol. In this case, a huge cooler filled with 29 bottles of booze, four 12-packs of beer, a half-barrel of beer, two Packers jerseys and a 2-night casino package at a resort Up North.
Joking around with their neighbors, Mr. D announced that he'd be the Big Winner of the grand prize. Then the numbers got called.
Mr. D's numbers.
It took Mr. D, Green Girl and a neighbor guy to haul the lot out to their car. Promises of summer pool parties were made as Mr. D and Green Girl drove home (slowly, lest they get pulled over with over 30 gallons of alcohol in their vehicle). (But not so slowly as to garner unwanted attention.)
They unloaded their winnings in the garage and gawked. Vodka in every flavor imaginable, whiskey--bourbon and rye, tequila, rum. (No gin! That's a shame.) Whatever would they do? They figured they could pawn off the whiskey and a few random bottles to people with new homes, people hosting graduation parties, people with birthdays coming up. That left them with over 20 bottles to spare.
They calculate it will take them 10 years to consume and gift away all the booze in that cooler. (The beer should only last a few months, tops. Mr. D and Green Girl aren't big booze drinkers, they like beer or wine. They've had the same bottles of booze in their liquor cabinet for over 12 years--booze they bought to serve family attending Mr. T's baptism party.) Incidentally, Green Girl and Mr. D won their grand prize on the same night the world was supposed to end.
There's some grizzled preacher predicting the end of the world. He was wrong before, he was wrong again. He's telling everyone that he knows the exact date of when the world will end, but dangitall, he got the math wrong.
Green Girl cannot resist applying some logic to his theory. That's what she does when she's smoothing an iron across Mr. D's shirts and digging holes for her tomato plants. So, grizzled preacher, here's why your prophecy of the world ending in October is destined to fail:
1. Claim: God is so powerful that He'll end the world.
2. Claim: God revealed the date to you.
3. Claim: You did the math wrong, so you recalculated.
4. Claim: God gave you the means to calculate the exact date of the end of the world.
Uh, grizzled preacher? If God is so powerful that He can destroy the whole of creation as we know it, don't you think He'd be capable of getting the right answer on a math problem? And if you are God's mouthpiece, isn't it presumable that the creator of all things would give you the right information to share?
(In addition, of course, to the several Scripture references about nobody knowing the time when the second coming will actually occur. In Green Girl's experience, prophets don't contradict Scripture.)
In short, Green Girl's in no rush to eat, drink and be merry. She's figuring you just bought her plenty of time. And Mr. D's lucky ticket number bought her plenty to drink.
Spill it, reader. What grand prize have you ever won?