To those worried this is the End of Days, take heart. I’ve come to the realization there’s no need to panic.

You have a 50-50 shot of nailing this, which means you have the same shot as the Mayans when it comes to perfect, profound prognostications.

Sleepy Joe is at the top of the Democrats’ ticket. He isn’t revered. He isn’t invigorating and picturing him as the leader-in-chief is downright scary. Even the donkey party appears to barely tolerate ol’Joe. 

And our Tweeter-in-chief can’t stay out of his own way, seemingly happy to sing the “me, me, me” message.

In an example of coincidences only an eclectic mind like mine could concoct, ponder this: On the same day Kamala Harris was chosen as the Democrat nominee for VP, the WWE’s Kamala “The Ugandan Giant” passed away in Mississippi. 

Wait! It gets better: The wrestler’s real name was Greg Harris. Cue up The Twilight Zone theme. 

I know, it makes you think. Probably makes you think: How does he come up with this nonsense?

During these days of pandemic-mania, I have sworn off CNN and Fox News and other news programs. I was able to discover Fox’s Chris Wallace is the son of the late Mike Wallace, longtime host of 60 Minutes.

I know you’re thinking: Big deal. Who gives a frog’s fat rump? The point being I have tuned out so-called news networks. 

So sad they don’t provide news, just arguing that brings back memories of liquor-fueled Sunday dinner table tiffs of my youth.

It was always whoever yelled loudest without passing out or getting shot was the winner.

If you have Direct TV, check out Newsmax. It’s information without the screaming. And they have Diamond and Silk’s show. They are the two African American women who tell it like it is from their perspective.

They make sense.

I have adopted Facebook as my news source and refuge. Don’t swear. I have Facebook standards:

-Don’t dare post your political views. They are as meaningless to me as my views are to you. You’ll not change my mind. I am quite happy with the mind I have, thank you very much.

-Cynthia Meisner and Carla Brock, two former baseball moms, post some killer recipes. My mouth waters and I can actually feel my arteries clogging as I read them. I know about Catholic guilt. If I ever ate one of those offerings, it would be a full-blown case of diabetic guilt.

A guy can dream, right?

However, if you turn recipes into real life, by all means, feel free to treat me like Pooh. Watch it. I’m talking about the bear with a “hunny” jar on his head. And he was always ready for a “smackeral.”

-My Traeger and I are getting along quite well, despite my limited culinary skills. Beef, chicken, shellfish have become a specialty. And for those who lean towards veggies, foil-wrapped corn, salted and buttered, coupled with that grill flavor, makes me thankful to have teeth.

-Any shysters selling products on FB are wasting space. Those ads are reminiscent of K-Tel selling Veg-a-Matics. Those things were useful, but only if you liked squashed tomatoes.

You might as well can it with your hawking guitar tuners, Australian beef, or gizmos that make your car run better. No one is home when you ring the bell.

-I’ve become adept at knowing the difference between a copperhead and a friendly snake.

-I hope I’m not rude when I ignore a friend request. I’ve adopted Jon Howard’s stance: “They ought to quit sending me friend requests. I know those people and they don’t like me.”

-Best seat in the house when there are neighborhood HOA issues. Not being on the board, I can fire-at-will, or in this case fire at Tolley, the firm in charge of the neighborhood.

The latest: Two lots at the back of the subdivision contain wetlands and a spring. Someone bought the lots and is building back there. They built some good will by putting a porta-potty on the street.

Tolley won’t call back. “South end of a northbound horse” was my contribution.

-I absolutely love all the cute animal stories. Ditto for the ones where an abused animal is rescued and rehabilitated. 

Simple me, I found it hilarious that a couple rescued a small alligator, Rex, from a tiny box. It’s a lucky gator, going toy-shopping at PetSmart, while being led on a leash.

I wonder if Rex would be interested in living in a natural spring. I’d love to see Zack not return calls about that.

Mike Tasos’ column is published every other weekend.  Comments can be sent to miketasos@earthlink.net. He is also on Facebook.