This world is more curious than I can possibly imagine. A hundred days ago, a rather bitter poet named Mark Baumer started walking barefoot across America to spread the news about the claimed imminent and immense dangers of climate change. He was a barefoot preacher delivering sermons about Thermageddon. He kept a daily online journal of his travels and his thoughts on his blog.
Along the way, the election of Donald Trump interrupted an idyllic journey and left him very concerned. I pick up the story three days ago, on the hundredth day of his journey, after he’d walked from Rhode Island to Florida, with all images from his daily online journal:
He wrote in his journal of his thoughts, a most curious, semi-poetic, troubled, and sad recounting. He is obsessed with imagined dangers involving Donald Trump
He spoke of the climate … and of course of hating Trump …
And we can’t forget his hatred of Trump, not to mention his hatred of the world and of himself … he’s all about equal opportunity.
Finally, having moved past anger and depression in the stages of his grief, after bemoaning the climate, he gets to bargaining, saying he’ll take everyone’s pain.
The next day, his hundred-and-first day on the road, as he was walking along the shoulder of the road in Sarasota, he was run over and killed. By an SUV.
I have absolutely no idea what the moral of this story might be, and I certainly take no pleasure of any kind at his death—each man’s death diminishes me, as the poet said.
The curious part, and the reason I posted this, was that he foreshadowed his own death. A picture on the last page saying “Killed” with an arrow going forwards? A statement of “bring me your hatred and pain”?
And finally, the ultimate irony of his being killed by his avowed enemy, the CO2-emitting SUV.
Life truly cannot be imitated.