Apocalypse… Meh During Hurricane Irene’s reign of terror on the East Coast, I was visiting my sister in Camden, NJ. Surprisingly, there is a really nice part of Camden and my sister’s apartment has tremendous 12-foot windows that look across the water at Philadelphia. I’ve often sat on her couch and gazed at the City of Brotherly Love. It’s very relaxing when you aren’t expecting a city-born tornado to come tearing through and send those giant windows crashing down on you and your family. A tornado warning in Philadelphia? I was reminded of the carefree days a decade ago when I ate ice cream on the streets of NYC in October and we all laughed about global warming and the end of the world. My sister’s apartment had already been shaken by an earthquake earlier that week so I knew all bets were off. If Camden is experiencing aftershocks, what’s impossible or even improbable? If New York is evacuating, could the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse be far behind? Perhaps they are stuck in grid lock traffic because NYC had shut down their mass transit system. The apocalypse isn’t nearly as funny when you have a kid. It’s harder to be ironic about the end of life as we know it when you’re wondering if your kid is going to need gill implants. I mean, I’m already worried about paying for college, how am I going to afford relocating to Mars? She’s only two, what has she seen of the world? Sure, she’s been on a cruise, met Elmo, hung out back stage at the Newport Folk Fest with Mavis Staples and marched through the French Quarter in a Mardi Gras parade… Actually, she’s led a pretty full life. Dreading The actual end of...