There are only so many shopping days until the End of the World. This author must admit that this pending date of Mayan Doom has enlivened my hearty expectations of world-imploding doom, Elder God awakening, dogs-and-cats-living together, Final Trumpet, tampons all turning to ice cream or an army of blog-visiting robots claiming “I’ve been browsing on-line greater than 3 hours today, yet I never found any fascinating article like yours. It¡¦s pretty worth enough for me. In my opinion, if all webmasters and bloggers made excellent content material as you probably did, the web will be a lot more helpful than ever before” will shut down the internets and send our antique grid into a frightful ball leading to social unrest and counterfeit Belgian waffles.
I am a survivor. I realize that in my “career” in [activity] and second job at [different activity] I have worked with tough “at risk” kids and adults, been threatened with bodily harm on several occasions, had guns pointed at me at certain check points, gotten angry phone calls from mobsters needing rent, screaming lawyers demanding money, been sued, taken others to court (both day and night court) and gotten divorced, my lawyer having a massive heart attack and recovering only to have my partner’s lawyer have a septic mouth infection (we both agreed next time we’ll hire only healthy lawyers). This is to say, the end of the world is looking pretty tame.
Yes I used The Googles for a list, but before enumerating, I will recount my personal recollections before turning to the Google Brain. The first End of The World that I remember was somewhere in the 1970s. My grandmother worked as a country doctor of sorts and came into contact with all the local loonie toons. Looniest were the Jehovah Witnesses. My grandmother would not let us kids about when one of these toons came a-calling, least we talk shit about Christ, or mention celebrations of some dark sort, like Easter eggs, stringing pop corn and putting it on a tree or some other demonic activity. I remember my brother and I sneaking about the house to listen to the grown ups and we came to the realization that these people believed that something was supposed to have happened (we weren’t sure if it was a long time or a very long time ago – seeing how a year to a kid is a long time). They were now in damage control mode and we learned later from grannie about something called a Silent Coming. No… get your head out of the gutter….. This is Christ coming to Earth and not Blasting the Shit out of us, but rather doing some local miracles and then taking off like a hoser (kids, ask your Canadian parents what a hoser is). And so, we survived the first EOTW as well as broke the seal on this topic since our lessons from Grammy were all about Charles Manson and his EOTW and the Jim Jones – because what childhood would be complete without understanding just how fucking stupid people are, or listening to descriptions of what they found in Jonestown from your matrilineal female progenitor? But, there were far more EOTW to come.
We got real scared about some predictions I think my mother watched on the Today Show or Good Morning America or some other husfraukampfenscheiße. Nukes and riots. We were all going to expect a tribulation, even if we didn’t think it would be Christ, or UFOS, it could just be the SOVIETS and hordes of black and brown people running amok. Three Mile Island was a walk in the park next to what was coming. We had ticking time bombs all over the country. We could hide in the mountains, but the fools put military bases all over the landscape (that is, where there wasn’t already a prison). Shitfuck we were going to all get nuked! As a kiddie, I spend a great deal of time being scared about blowing up, or worse, being left behind and wandering a burned and desperate landscape looking for packets of Jello or Tang or other sustenance that survived The Bomb. How would I survive? How would I take care of my pet cat? How would little Tinkles survive? What if we had to eat Lucky or Jingles? End times came and went. We held on and squeaked through those predictions, and the president asked Mr. SOVIET to take down a certain wall and it seemed we were safe. Then, just in time for us all to pass by the nuke predictions and thumb our noses, we had the Great Conjunction predictions, the Witnesses were again claiming End Times(tm) and before I knew it my childhood was left behind and my teen years started and the 1980s got so packed with End of The World predictions that if it weren’t for the Weekly World News I would not have been able to keep up with them all. By the early 1990s I (and the planet, and you, and your family) had survived 10-15 ends times – some of which were end times for those who truly believed (future post perhaps…. the relativism of reality? Off topic… Ahem). The planets aligned or didn’t. Solar flares came and went. Family pets matured and died without any bombs, race riots, or floods to help them speed the process. My Go Bag, I believe I packed in 1978 sat unused. The secret hide out I hid cans of food became to small for my growing self to hide, dust covered my Go Bag. And yet, the predictions came even faster than before.
The 1990s heated up with a great many more end times but I failed to keep track of them all. They just whizzed by, one End Times after another an entire traffic-jam of failed profits and false Witnesses each one sure to put a stopper in life for all of us, except the few Believers. I am not sure if Waco counted as EOTW or not, but it seemed the Feds were smoking compound after compound and the loonie toon was fast becoming an extinct creature. Or was that not that this creature was being hunted to extinction in their compound lair, but that this predictive millennialism had leaked out of Jonestown and spilled into Anytown USA. It wasn’t the Moonies, the Hari Krishnas, Ramtha, or limited to crystal-worshiping housewives and Fountainhead followers in klatches of limited Fear, The Fear – that Fear junkies get – had spread into our common culture. We had the prediction that the Iraq War (the first one) would end our American Empire. That Clinton would end society with an army of Welfare Queens. That Nostradamus predicted the end times for 1999 and why, there was this one computer glitch which would finally launch the bombs and fold banks into origami for Y2K. We had first taken the Christ out of Christmass, now we had taken Christ out of the EOTW. We didn’t have to sell Watch Towers door-to-door to believe in hellfire, we had to listen to some dipshit smug computer programmer in Wired or Fast Company or Fucked Company spout his predictions of meltdowns only prevented by hiring Spanky’s Hook Up, a start up of some guys in a garage found a work-around for this glitch and for $X,xxx,xxx.xx could prevent this disaster. We chuckled at Pat Roberts about his 50 foot Jesus appearing. That he told us the only way to prevent wrath of G/g/o/_/d/es/s/s was to pray/pay, and then turned around and hired snake oil sales/wo/men to give us our own personal, digital Jesus.
The heady night of 1999 as computer techies vacationed with their newly minted millions, and sundry other folks partied like it was 1999…. since it was. I and my partner camped on top of a mountain at the ruins of an old hotel. We got through the bitter cold night by burning fallen trees and talking to other campers over wine, sparkling and otherwise, and whatever else was at hand. The dawn finally broke, and we climbed to the fire tower, and again surveyed the land. Goddamn it… I was still alive. Down that mountain the mountain of bills waited for me, as before. There would be no EOTWAWKI today.
We had 16-20 fucking predicted End Times just in 2000, only counting the religious ones. We also had the end of the Tech Bubble, the end of the world via Elections robed from us by the judicial wing of our “government.” Then the 9/11 happened and it was full on 24 hour news cycle predictions of the End Times. It’s now hard for the religious to get any air time in order to say… “hey guys… hey it’s me, Reverend Moo Doo Guy Pan…. hello? Um, world ending here, Jesus and all that… Guys, just give me a minute!” Before all one had to do was kill a celebrity wife and carve a swastika into your head and the world chatted about your for a decade. Now, these predictions are just folded into a news cycle spinning on dire claims. Oh, world ending October? No, I got my math wrong or my prescription mixed up….. and 15 second of fame are… up.
So next week huh? What ya doing for the end? Wait until the last minute? Want a little bare back quicky before Quetzalcoatl comes? Wire me some money? We could burn everything you own in the backyard. Again, I’m going with some NSA hook up. Sandy has come and gone. Earthquakes are here and there. We don’t need Jesus, our End Times predictions are secular and multicultural. Fiscal Cliff(c)? Is that the best you got? Obamacare? Really? Banks too big to fail? Bring it on. Aging infrastructure? OK. China building up to replace Terrorist as our new Fear? I’m so hyped up on fear that I can blow a line of terror and feel nothing. I need a new drug. Can we have UFOs again? How about an old tyme Lizard People invasion? Is the Weekly World News still in print (kids, as your parents what “print” means). I’m prepared. To work until I die and just watch the world slowly and painfully piss away as we frak and dig and shit and fuck things up…. No one singular event we can show up to like some macabre New Year’s celebration.
I’m predicting an end times sooner, but nothing spectacular. I predict those tins of food I hid away decades ago as a kid…. will spoil. November 21, 2012 these tins will explode, if they haven’t already….
Correction – planet Nibiru should have killed us in 2003.