Squeegie Nation

In these pre-millennial times it seems appropriate that the signs of the approaching end-of-the-world multiply around us. The Lakota Indians of North American believe that the birth of a white calf will be the awaited apocalyptic omen, whereas we need look no further than Michael Jackson, who now has two children. From the Y2K bug to the global financial crisis, more signs are popping up every day, giving the impression that the world is sliding steadily toward oblivion. Never mind that this process has been going on since the beginning of time.

Whether we call it entropy or economic rationalism, the world seems to have the knack of teetering on the edge of catastrophe, never actually delivering the apocalyptic spectacle it constantly promises. This is why we have to endure movies like Deep Impact and Armageddon. It is also why we have to endure election campaigns fought on tax packages. Politicians have a great stake in making people believe that the world is going to hell-in-a- handbasket, and convincing them that the only way to reverse the process is to vote for them. The old "changing deckchairs on the Titanic" joke is never funny in the party room.

Being an (alleged) expert in millennial omens, I have noticed the little signs that have been leaking into our lives through some diabolical portal. I would even go so far as to join the chorus that believes these signs are multiplying as we approach the year 2000, in a process which the prophets call The Quickening. I first noticed this a couple of years ago when the price of tram tickets went up, and yet the amount of travel time went down. Surely this was some kind of test – from above or below was unclear. The next omen I noticed was when video stores decided to keep the covers for display purposes, thereby forcing us to forfeit the full-video experience. This involves the fetishistic pleasure of reading every word on the box, noting the approximate running-length as well as the recommendation from Wellington Hobby Quarterly, before popping in the night’s entertainment.

It wasn’t long before The Quickening then turned its attention back to public transport, more specifically the installation of ticketing machines. Not only do these contraptions make hundreds of jobs redundant, but they actually spit the change on to the ground, forcing you to grovel. They actually spit your hard-earned money onto the dirt! Now you may have experienced some grumpy conductors in your time, but I bet none of them ever felt it necessary to throw your change onto the ground (unless you are particularly rude). And what is even scarier than this pre-millennial pantomime, is the fact that most people don’t even mind. They pick it up as if it is just the first in a long day’s worth of petty insults to our dignity – which of course it is.

And yet, just when I was thinking that things can’t get any bleaker, and that judgement day couldn’t be any closer, I see the Sign To End All Signs. My local 2 dollar shop – with the stroke of a paint brush – had become the 2+ shop. Surely this represents the seventh seal of apocalyptic portents. "Wherein lies the possibility of faith when the humble 2 dollar shop succumbs to inflation?" I asked the bored cashier. "When will the madness end?"

"That’ll be twenty six dollars fifty," she replied, looking at my sad bounty of one clay bunny, a box of expired glow-in-the-dark donuts and some plastic clothes pegs.

After this unsettling discovery I wandered the streets and pondered its meaning. Could all this be related to the G.S.T. jitters, another candidate for omen of the year? John Howard is obviously comfortable with the fact that all us average Australians, driving about in our four-wheel drives, will have so many people eager to clean our windscreens. Presumably this is the "healthy competition" he is always talking about – roaming bands of car-washers, fighting each other for the honour to scrub-off the dead mozzies. At this rate, every intersection in Australia will have a family with soapy buckets, the dad raising the squeegee towards the commuters like a down-and-out photographer in the 1890s. A snapshot of the nation.

The concept of the End of the World is always political. This is because it is a chance for the Have-Nots to vent their revenge fantasies, and the Haves to blackmail the others in order to maintain the status quo – "behave or you won’t get into heaven." These days, however, you can replace the word "heaven" with "hospital cover." It seems the trickle-down effect is beginning to work. The only problem being, what is it, exactly, that is trickling down? And why does it smell so bad?