There’s some talk around town. Some very scary chatter. People say it is coming and will be here before we know it. I don’t want to alarm you but…the end of the world is just around the corner. I know. Isn’t it exciting?
The good thing is, we have an exact date: Dec 21, 2012. That’s according to the Mayans, who supposedly kept the most accurate calendar in the history of man. (Yes, even more accurate than the Quartzmen or the Timex tribe of Bolo.) According to the Mayans, the Earth will enter the region of space equilateral to the plane of the Milky Way Galaxy. Nobody knows what calamity will happen when we plunge into this highly energized plane. We could blow up. Or we might not be able to pick up AM radio stations. I say, prepare for the worst. At least we have fair warning about when we should stock up on bread, toilet paper and Skittles. I’m going to get the essentials in 2011 just to beat the crowd.
Since the beginning of time, people have always been claiming the world is going to end. Over the years, I have certainly heard a slew (or is it gaggle?) of preachers spreading the dire warning. They say things like, we have angered God, and according to the scriptures, we’ll all be dead by next Tuesday. Of course, the only way to prevent the impending doom is to give them money. Then, after next Tuesday rolls around and we’ve only received a smattering of light showers, the preacher assures us that we pleased God with the money-giving. We become elated, only to find out from the preacher a few months later that God is on a tear and looking to end the world again. Damn, where’s my checkbook?
I’ve been through a rainstorm, black out, riot, hurricane and countless bad movies, but having never experienced the end of world, I haven’t a clue what to do. Should I pack? Turn down the thermostat? Cut the yard? Oh, and what do I wear? I don’t know what’s “in” in heaven. Oh my God, who would I get to feed my cats, Olaf and Pepper? I guess I’ll just leave an extra full bowl of Frisky Bits so they don’t eat each other. (There’s nothing more disgusting than cat-nibalism.) Hopefully they understand the art of rationing.
I really wish I knew if this ‘end of the world’ thing is for real. I don’t know if my heart can handle another Y2K-type of let down. Was that a great excuse to party or what? Folks were celebrating all around the world in hopes of a major computer meltdown that would surely bring a week off of work. The news hyped it for a good year and…it never happened. That stuff makes me very leery of forecasts. I still have troubling memories of growing up back east, where the TV weatherman would tout an upcoming “Blizzard of the Century,” then, come the next morning…nothing. Not even a flurry. School was still on and I was pissed. No, I didn’t do my homework. I trusted… a stinking weatherman.
Don’t act so surprised. You knew this day had to come. Nostradamus threw out a couple warning quadrant calls. He supposedly had a pretty good prediction batting average, certainly better than Miss Cleo. Also, let’s not forget biblical prophecies. Can you say Revelations? Puts a little shiver in your boots, doesn’t it? We’re talking horsemen, plagues, earthquakes and famines, oh my! Can you say Armageddon? Only God knows what’s coming down the pike…and not because He has a Magic Eight ball, but because He’s God. (Of course, the bible also says, no one knows the hour and day when these apocalyptic things will come to pass…So hear that, Mayans? Don’t be a lyin’.)
Anyway, I want to say goodbye to some people I have known, but I’m afraid. Who wants to look like the fool if nothing goes down? I guess I’ll be vague with those people and say something like, “Hey, if I don’t see you by next Friday, know that I love you and I’m still planning on returning your leaf blower.” The end of the world would also be a great excuse to patch things up with people you’ve had a falling out with. “I just want you to know, I didn’t sleep with your wife on purpose. I forgive you for being angry with me.”
I really hope I’m around the day before the end of the world. Can you imagine how many people are going to be telling off their bosses? “You filthy pig, I quit. I’m tired of working my fingers to the bone for chump change and for that lame $20 gift card bonus to Pete’s Pet Grooming.” I know I’ll take advantage of those last days. I just wonder how many women will slap me. “Come on, SugarNose, nobody’s going to say you’re easy. They’ll all be dead tomorrow and so will you. Whatta ya say? One for the road…”
I wonder how it will all go down. Will the earth fall out of alignment and cause a destructive magnetic shift? I guess we’ll know if our refrigerator magnets suddenly fly off. Maybe we’ll be crushed by a gigantic asteroid. You’re sunbathing in the backyard and a big rock lands in your pool. It’s not pretty. Or, who knows, it could be a mammoth tidal wave. You’re looking out the kitchen window, and suddenly you see a wall of water rushing at you. The only two words you can mutter are, “What the—?” And let’s not forget the old stand-by of a nuclear war. I don’t trust the Chinese or the Iranians (but then again, I don’t trust anyone—I hide my valuables when my mom stops by for a visit). I’ve always enjoyed a good fireworks show, so maybe a nuclear war might be kind of neat, except for the whole blisters-onthe-skin thing. (Keep calamine lotion in the medicine cabinet, just in case.) Look, whatever it is, I say enjoy the ride. I just hope that whatever happens, I’ll be in bed. I always feel safe in my bed—I can always hide under the covers.
Call me a maverick, but the end of the world doesn’t seem so bad. No more waiting in traffic. No telemarketers calling. No minute-by-minute updates on the healthcare debacle. No more cringing when you look through your daily mail stack. Could you imagine a billfree afterlife? Wow, I’d be in heaven. (I hope). Most importantly, I’ll bet there’s something good on TV in the here-after. Nobody could handle an eternity of the trash we have here on earth.
I’m not sure when the world is going to end, but I think there will be some signs. Things like: Brett Favre retires for good. Sitcoms are funny again. Donald Trump’s hair finally moves. The Jews and Palestinians gang up on the Swedes. Katie Couric is admitted on Celebrity Rehab. Michael Moore is diagnosed with anorexia. Keanu Reeves gets an Oscar. Not knowing when the end will come might even cause people to be good for a change. That’s why old people behave. You rarely see grandma car jacking or grandpa watching porno flicks. They want to get through those pearly gates, and time is limited to make an impression on the judge.
I’m actually looking forward to the End Times. Do you know how many women have told me they would only date me if the world were going to end? Well, I guess I’ll make some calls and set some dinner reservations. If only hell would freeze over, my dating schedule would be booked solid!
Maybe it is time to start fresh. Clean the slate. In all honesty, I think the human race needs a “do-over” anyway. We’ve made way too many mistakes. Wars, pollution, crystal meth, the Macarena, New Kids on the Block, Paris Hilton movies, that Kate and John thing…oh, and the Flowbee (that was the vacuum cleaner that cut your hair for $9.95.)
So, get ready. Like Jim Morrison once slurred 40 years ago, “This is the end, my only friend. The end.”