I think of end times often. It’s difficult to live in New Orleans and not: the roads have man-sized potholes that puppies and toddlers disappear into with startlingly regularity, teenagers with baseball bats randomly attack bicyclists on the main drag, and every three to six months, there’s no potable water—someone fell asleep at the pump. It’s usually after my third glass of water and second shower that I hear the alert on the radio. A little too late but I always end up fine. When discussing the bicycle attacks, a friend says that’s why he rides faster and doesn’t stop at lights. The children and puppies, well, leashes. The answers to our apocalypse are simple ones. Although said tongue to cheek, there’s truth in sarcasm. This week’s selection from Darren Jackson would find itself well at home here. Jackson knows that darkness does come, but that’s ok. Our ferryman through the swamp, Jackson balances his gallows-humor with sincerity, and he’s going to guide you through the end just fine. We may not all make it out alive but at least we’ll have a good laugh.