Yesterday came suddenly

I believe it was Esquire magazine that every now and then several years ago published little vignettes under the general title “Signs armageddon is upon us.” They were not serious items, but rather preposterous things, the stuff apt to make you shake your head and ask “What is the world coming to?”
Today they might include such wonderments as pizza wrapped in bacon (Does it come with a coupon for a free angioplasty?), or just about anything that comes out of the mouth of Kanye West.
And most assuredly Paul McCartney not being able to get into a post-Grammy Awards party.
“Your name, sir?”
“Uh, McCartney. Paul McCartney. And you got that ‘sir’ thing right. I’ve been knighted, you know.”
“McCartney, you say? McCartney. Nope. No McCartney on this list. A Jenny McCarthy. But she sounds like a girl.”
And so, Sir Paul was turned away.
Guess writing “Hey, Jude” just doesn’t carry the weight it used to.

Ed Ackerman