The end of the world

This Friday the world ends or it doesn’t. 

I don’t know about you, but I’ve booked to do my laundry. If the world doesn’t end I have Christmas to celebrate, if it does – don’t underestimate the need for clean underwear in a post-apocalyptic world. 

All across the world thousands or hundreds of thousands, maybe even millions of people are preparing for what the ancient Mayan calendar never predicted to be the end of time. Frankly, I have no idea what good tinned goods and salt will do if time were to end, but it doesn’t hurt to be ready. Just like we were ready in 1993, 1999 and 2011, those being the predictions I recall, never mind sect specific Armageddons and the ones that have come and gone without my noticing. Additionally, we have Zombie, influenza, Internet meltdown, Ebola and triffid end-of-days scenarios that some people believe may come true. 

It’s rather boring and repetitive. Honestly, it’s as if no one remembers Nostradamus and have we all forgotten the Book of Revelation? Those are what really frightened us in the nineties.

Face it, we just want the world to end. Why else do we ignore all reason and logic and cling to a flimsy, unsubstantiated speculation? We want to skip town, not pay our mortgages, quit our jobs and get to carry big guns to shoot at Zombies. 

The wonderful thing is if I’m wrong – no one gets to say (or scream), “I told you so.”

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