Well, it’s 11am here in Wellington, and according to The Crazies in America we’re going to get hit by impending doom first. I’ve got about 7 hours before the biggest earthquake ever will shake everything in this time zone, before rolling round the world at 6pm everywhere; the chosen few will ascend into the sky to heaven, while the heathens will remain here on earth to face 5 months of fire, destruction, pain, torment, seas of blood and of course molten lava. It wouldn’t be the end times without molten lava.
So what’s the best thing to do in this situation? It’s obvious. Buy a Tshirt.
I won’t lie, I find the whole thing hilarious. The number of apocalypses that were supposed to happen even in my lifetime is immense, if you believe every stupid cult and bunch of weirdos. This time, we’re being told by some 89-year-old fruitloop that doing some creative calculations gives you today’s date, and not the last date he gave in 1994. To him I say, rock on. Keep making your fruitloop predictions. And I will keep making Tshirts mocking you.
I guess I should also mention a design from my trilogy of books No Up, No Lies, No Never. The world ends in the second book, and there is much fear, terror, and partying. Because it’s all over, right? “…So why not go out with a drink in your hand at the most wonderful, crazy, awesome fucking party the world ever saw?”
Maybe I should do it without the centaur. Hmm.
Of course if there really is an earthquake that rips through the earth’s crust, and we really do see smug Christians flying around in the sky like the artwork for Muse’s amazing 3rd album, I take it all back. See you at the post-rapture looting!