Mark Morford is busy today warning us, in that extra-special Mark Morford kind of way, that President Bush is about to bring about the apocalypse. This borders a bit on the shrill and hysterical side even for the shrill, hysterical Morford.

I will, when the devolution comes and oil is $200 a barrel and we are at war with China and the dollar is worth about three cents on the euro, be relying on the talents and largesse of others. I have, for example, a wonderful brother-in-law with his own ranch-compound up near Spokane, well stocked with guns and canned goods and copious hiding spaces, and it is remote and rural and ready to be turned into a guarded inbreeding complex just after BushCo finally mistakes his electric toothbrush for the “nukular” button and hastens the end of the world as we know it, just as the evangelicals are right now pleading.

His support for the contention that the end is nigh comes from people who seem to indulge in a sort of wish fulfillment for the types who secretly imagine that the Unabomber might have been onto something. Morford describes his view of Armageddon with such passion that readers would be forgiven for wondering if he truly hopes that it might come to pass: it would be the ultimate opportunity for the arrogant writer to shout “I told you so” and wallow even more in his self-righteousness.

Of course, he ascribes the push for the final days right in the lap of those scary evangelicals. That’s painting with a mighty broad brush.

Aside from the completely fantastic nature of what he has written, the most startling thing is his complete disdain for anyone who isn’t, well, him. He appears to hate rural America nearly as much as he hates President Bush.

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