Listen: “And at the very end only two creatures shall be left crawling through the earth’s muck and they shall be cockroaches and surf podcasters!”

...and probably Kelly Slater who falls somewhere in between.

But the world’s economy has officially, fully, ground to a halt. No more commerce. No more dining out. No more dating via dating apps or meeting at bars. Sports are finished as are music festivals, any sort of publication, dancing to the downbeats masterfully stroked by Paul Fisher, visiting with friends, visiting with extended family, going to work, going shopping, going to theaters, parks, gyms, massage parlors both above and below board.

We’ve long wondered what the apocalypse would feel like and now we know.

It feels like right now. It feels like this very minute.

And it has long been told that, in the event of some worldwide nuclear holocaust or uncontrollable disease, cockroaches would be the only earthly creature to survive but today it was proven that surf podcasters will also survive for David Lee Scales and I met in San Clemente, flaunting California’s fresh “shelter in place” laws to jabber.

We jabbered about a re-imagined World Surf League tour, about the sad trajectory of Julian Wilson’s career, licking the glass of monkey zoo exhibits, David Lee’s desire for a robust Big Brother surveillance state and enjoying a urinal while also emailing.

Cockroaches and surf podcasters.

Gather the family around, the kids home from school, the husband home from work, the grandma and grandpa huddling in the closet and listen to the sweet hum of the end through air vents.

Is it good? Enjoyable?

Who cares.