Perfect storm.

Political analyst Pat Buchanan contends the ship is sinking.

We’re heading toward the perfect storm, Buchanan is telling anyone and everyone who will listen.

Manufacturing and jobs are going overseas, the dollar is sinking and our borders are so porous the Holiday Inn is considering building where the water is low on the Rio Grande.

Plus, popularity polls for the president and Congress are at record lows.

“We’re deconstructing,” says ol’ Pat. “The county is coming apart.”

Hell, I’ve been saying that for years.

I contend, “We’re going to hell in a hand basket.”

Case in point: Just last week a passenger on a jet airliner rushed the cockpit screaming, “We’re going to crash. It’s the end of the world.” Then he ran into the restroom and disrobed.

The jet landed in Fargo and the passenger was jailed.

Some on the plane suspected the lunatic was a news-type, a reporter-journalist.

Nope, said a friend. “He plays piano at a bordello.”

Same difference.

Regardless, if that isn’t a sign the end is near, I don’t know what is.

But, we’re still here, still breathing, still kicking.

I generally give examples, citing the Jet Set crowd, professional sports figures and politicos as the culprits. They are the instigators, the trouble-makers, the root of all our problems. They set the bar and they set the stage.

How can we survive, given their deplorable actions, their degenerate lifestyle, their nonsensical view of the world and all its inhabitants.

God is giving us the two-minute warning, I predict all too often.

While I share some of Pat Buchanan’s concerns — immigration largely — I suspect the real problem the country is facing is now closer to home.

The bedroom, to be exact.

While this may take time to evolve, the components are in place and the machinery in motion.

Buchanan is worried about Washington and Wall Street, I’m worried about family and home.

Before long, we’ll be saying, “It all started at home and in the bedroom.”

The breakup of the nuclear family, which will lead to the eventual destruction of the country, will be traced to the master bedroom.

To be more specific, the bed shared by husband and wife.

Historians will tell how the demise of Middle America spread across the country much like a diseased quilt.

Couples sharing an electric blanket are especially at risk. Couples with a bed that offers individual controls for softness and comfort are in the same bed as couples fighting over control of the electric blanket.

Soon, it will be separate beds.

Then, separate bedrooms.

What next? Separate living quarters?

You bet.

Well, hell, it’s all downhill after that.

Pretty soon, everyone is sleeping around.

All around town, truth be told.

Eventually, and you know this, the estranged husband will bump into the separated wife.

“You again?”

How can a community survive? It can’t. Politicians and Wall Street-type, not already sleeping around, will have little choice.

“About time you join the fun,” professional athletes and the jet set will chortle.

How can a country survive such behavior?

Lewd and lascivious conduct will be condoned, encouarged even by judges everywhere.

The diseased quilt syndrome has spread to courtrooms, the country will cry.

“We’re doomed.”

“The country is deconstructing.”

Told you so.

To hell in a hand basket.

The perfect storm.

Don’t say you weren’t warned.

. . . and to think it all started with that damn electric blanket.