Well, I guess that’s it. It was nice knowing everyone. Cram as much fun as you can into your final eleven or so days on Earth because, apparently, April 23rd is A- Day. A, of course, for Armageddon. This according to (at least one) esteemed(?) numerologist:
There you have it. Eruptions, earthquakes, and stealth planetary reveals. Of course, in a transparent attempt to forestall worldwide panic, NASA is trying to debunk the theory:
Hmmm. Methinks the NASA senior space scientist doth protest too much.
So who and what to believe? On the one hand, you’ve got the numerologists lead by expert “Christian conspiracy theorist David Meade”. On the other, you’ve got a bunch of scientists. Both make some very compelling cases. I mean, yes, various cranks and nut jobs have been predicting the end of the world as far back as the 1st century and as recently as last November, but the way I see it (and as any desperate gambler worth his salt will tell you), their streak of some one hundred incorrect prophecies just means they’re due.
Sure, you can simply dismiss the warnings and continue your life, business as usual, but how are you going to feel eleven days from now when death planet Nibiru appears and starts raining destruction down on our heads and you realize you’ve wasted the last week of your life working your ass off to complete a work-related deadline or strictly following one of those low-carb diets? After the initial horror subsides, you’ll figure you’ll make your final day on Earth a cheat day and rush over to Safeway for a pint of Haagen-Dazs, but guess what? Everyone has already come to the exact same conclusion and, by the time you get there, they’ll have nothing left but Breyers Carb-Smart Vanilla and Choco Tacos.
Well not me. Starting today, I’ve cancelled meetings, scrubbed deadlines, and cast aside my work, work-outs, and healthy eating. I’m stocking up on burgers, barbecue, and Magnum almond bars, and queuing up undignified horror movies (not the hoity toity elevated kind John Krasinski enjoys) on Netflix.
Come April 23rd, I’ll be the one having the last laugh.
Until, of course, we all expire shrieking in unison.
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