A perfect storm requires three factors. We’ve already got two: the worldwide economic depression and possible swine flu pandemic. What will the third leg be?
     How about climate change wreaking its havoc on the planet? (Some say it already is.) Or perhaps, nuclear missiles fired by Iran at Israel or from North Korea to the U.S. or both? Or something we haven’t even thought of ripping what’s left of our survival fiber from our already paranoid spirit?
     I don’t usually think about these things in this way. By nature, I’m an everything is going to work out okay kind of guy. I worry, but not about huge issues. I worry about a publisher not sending books to a bookstore before an autograph party. I worry about a guest thinking that Nashville is on Mountain Time and being two hours late for a telephone interview. I worry that that when the waiter nods like he understands when I order a martini with Stoli vodka that he’ll forget to tell the bartender and it’ll come with Popof Vodka—which is like drinking Drano. Things like that I worry about.
     Now, I’ve begun to worry about the big stuff, the perfect storm stuff. It’s hard to know what to do about calamitous problems. I look at the leader of Iran—the one whose name sounds like, “Ah, man, did-you-go-to-the-john”—and I see a guy needing a bath who could start World War 3. His i North Korean soul mate is an enigma wrapped in a mystery.
     As for the swine flu outbreak, I can wear a mask, constantly wipe with an anti-biotic cloth like Monk, never go out, and when I do, refrain from breathing. Other than that, I feel as relevant as male country singer without a pair of jeans.
     There is nothing we can do. We are lost out here in the stars waiting for the next shoe to fall, the next crisis to hit, the third wave of the perfect storm.