T. GAMBLE: Sure signs of the apocalypse

Once again I have seen the coming apocalypse and it is here, right here, in Corporate America. Three signs have now been unveiled, all of which, I believe, are discussed in the book of Daniel, but it is possible they were each only discussed at Joe’s Bar and Grill. I really can’t be sure which.

First, I ate at Golden Corral’s buffet recently. No, that is not the coming apocalypse, unless you consider moving up two more pants sizes an apocalypse. But on the table was a placard that said something to the effect that you could go online and see how to eat a healthy meal at the Golden Corral.

What in the hell is wrong with those folks at Golden Corral? What fool do they think ever in the history of man said, “I think I need a healthy meal. Let’s go to Golden Corral and eat five yeast rolls, fried chicken and a large helping of swirl ice cream”?

No one in their right mind eating at Golden Corral cares about the healthiness of their meal. Look around at any Corral buffet line. There are more sweat pants, sans-a-belt pants and untucked shirts than at a Moose Lodge fish fry. They have the only parking lot that has more handicapped parking than regular parking. Patrons of Golden Corral don’t CrossFit. Now, a few may cross dress, but they do not CrossFit or any other type vigorous exercise.

Yep, I believe in Daniel it states, “In the end time, buffets will serve broccoli and spinach and the beast shall be loosed on all who seek to eat 2,000 calories in one sitting.”

The second sign is even worse. Playboy magazine just announced they will no longer have naked women in their magazine. Let me say that again, No naked women!”

Wouldn’t it have been easier to just say, “We are folding up”? What next? Will Car & Driver announce they will no longer have cars in their publication?

What will 12-year-old boys now put under their mattress? Will we finally actually be forced to read an article in the magazine? Where will Carmen Electra pose nude now?

I knew once Hugh Hefner turned over the day-to-day running of the magazine to his daughter that it was just a matter of time, but even I did not see this one coming.

The final sign comes by way of Florida, where 23-year-old Whitney Marie Beall allegedly decided to drive around drunk. That in itself is not particularly newsworthy. Folks have been riding around drunk since they figured out how to ride a horse.

She, however, decided to “live-stream” the event on her twitter account by way of periscoping. Periscoping allows one to live-stream events to all your followers, which in this particular case included at least one state patrolman.

Whitney gleefully announced she was drunk and then, just to make sure, videoed her wayward driving.

Back in my heyday, which, come to think of it, was literally about one day, if you drove drunk, you took the back roads. Now, I guess, you get drunk and ride around the police station. With today’s look-at-me society, I guess I am not really surprised. Rob a bank, post it on Facebook. Kill somebody, send it on Snapchat.

Maybe it is Revelation that says, “And in the time of peril, they had no self–awareness, but much self-esteem.”

All I know if I have to watch my diet at Golden Corral, look at Playboy without pictures, and video myself if I drink a beer and drive, then please, like Fred Sanford, just take me home now, cause here I come, Elizabeth.

Email columnist T. Gamble at [email protected].