For years I have been collecting–actually, just mental woolgathering–different signs of the coming apocalypse. And when I say apocalypse, I'm speaking in a strictly secular sense. Not the biblical revelations of locusts and dragons that God sent Federal Express to Big John way back when. Not the fire and brimstone armageddon that Reagan used to whisper about to his backroom buddies. I'm talking more about the T.S. Elliot kind of judgement day where we all go out with a whimper rather than a bang.

In other words, the fall of Rome circa 2001.

For a while it was simply a general malaise. People being rude to each other. People being insulated. Alienated. Nasty. This was maybe twenty years or so ago. Punk rock was all the rage then. In fact, rage itself was in. I used to think it was merely the zeitgeist at the time. A reaction against Reagan and Margaret Thatcher perhaps.

Little did I know it was only the beginning. As the years passed, our culture seemed to slide further and further into a sort of crude, post-literate, surly sinkhole. I began noticing things. Things such as the conspicuous absence of turn signals. Fewer and fewer people were using turn signals on the roads. There was even a study done on this phenomena. Is this all a coincidence? No way. I'm convinced that the age of road rage is another portent of doom. People simply don't care as much about each other anymore, and the metal womb of an automobile is the perfect armor for the inner bully in all of us.

Check out the way restaurant patrons treat service people nowadays. Seriously. Just check it out sometime. It's appalling. All these little self absorbed Caesars barking out orders. Or the way receptionists or telephone operators treat perfect strangers. Or the way people spread bile and viruses and hurtful rumors on the internet.

We have become a culture of technological sociopaths.

But to me, the latest and most alarming sign of The Big Round-up is a small item I read in the entertainment trades last week. Most people would dismiss it as a complete yawn, but not I. The gist of the item (I think it was in ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY) was the following: The musical world–and especially the world of rock and roll–is experiencing a minor crisis due to a dearth of drummers. Evidently, everybody wants to play lead guitar nowadays, or sing, or be Madonna, or whatever. Yeeesh!!

Is this some kind of fallout from permissive child-rearing practices? Have we raised a generation of selfish prigs?! Nobody wants to simply be the anchor anymore. Nobody wants to just be supportive, and helpful, and just keep the freaking beat. In other words, nowadays, nobody wants to be Ringo; everybody wants to be Paul.

It's a sad day, ladies and gents, when we can't even find kids who just want to pound on things for the sheer joy of it.

And by the way: I always thought Ringo was the cool one!