Working in a newsroom, gloomy thoughts about the state of humanity are an occupational hazard.
If we are not being inundated with pictures of terrified, terrorised young Iraqi men or Syrian children every day, we're in a rare lull. And to fill those breaks in the gloom, there's always the Glenn report on our subculture of child neglect and violence. Or another child killed in a driveway. Or a young man bashed outside a small-town pub.
One almost longs for a story about Kim Kardashian's ample butt or Prince George's pudgy-legged waddle, just to break up the incessant grimness. But after we've smiled, we're left reminded our own children will never be minded by kindly English nannies, and our butts are flat and unappealing. It's a no-win situation.
We do, at least, have doughty Bill English minding the public purse, while his boss, John Key, ladles out the good cheer and reminds us we're living in that famous "rock star economy". Yes, we know about factory closures and mass job losses, the way fulltime positions are rapidly becoming contract and part time, and the growing pressure on food banks. But we still tend to believe she'll be right in matters economic.
But will "she" be right? Because it seems inescapable to conclude that the world is once more heading towards financial disaster.