It's The End Of The World As We Know It, & I Feel Pretty Damn Good My Own Self

According to very reputable religious kooks, today marks the end of the world. Me? I'm excited about it. I won't have to worry about where to kill time each night. You know, what with the world ending and all, that won't be much of a concern. I figured on the last day on earth as we know it, I'd do something special. So, I'm sitting at Generic Bread and typing this asinine blog post. Nothing is more appropriate for the world ending than that. Yesterday, when informed that today will end everything as we know it by a colleague at the place I occasionally show up to work, I replied, "Don't get my hopes up."

Speaking of the world ending, I'm guessing Lenny Bruce is still not afraid. And it's still a tournament, a tournament, a tournament of lies. Birthday party, cheesecake, Jelly Bean, Boom!

I did a little research into this end of the world situation. The guy behind it is a gaunt looking nut named Harold Camping. Evidently today is the anniversary of Noah's Ark and that flood deal from back in the day. You know, 40 days and 40 nights of a steady deluge. Followed by doves flying around looking for worms. Then a crash landing at Mt Ararat. Then a massive party where Noah, his family, and their concubines got hammered beyond belief on Ripple and shots of rock-gut Scotch. I'm sorry I missed that one. I'm guessing Geilfuss's ancestors crashed the party though. And Creech was running around in Noah's wife's drawers. I can clearly envision that scenario playing out on that stinky ark back several thousand years ago. It would have to play out that way, right? Anyway, back to this Harold Camping fellow. I wonder if he's much of an outdoorsman. I mean, what with his name being Camping and all. It would certainly be ironic if old Harold had bad allergies or something that precluded him from piling into the old RV and setting out for port-a-potties unknown along the most backward highways and byways imaginable.

As far as the folks here at Generic Bread, they don't seem too concerned about Harold Camping's prediction. Most of them are sitting around talking about the best way to secure a loved one's parole - same as always...

The word that Camping and others have used to describe the end of the world is rapture. I believe its origins are biblically related. In fact, I recall hearing about this rapture deal back in church before I got permanently banned from Sunday School for punching this weird Sunday School teacher in the jaw (I was like 11 at the time & I remember the name of this fellow, it was Dan McLean if anyone cares). Back to this rapture stuff. The whole idea struck me as totally implausible. I guess God and Jesus swoop out of the sky and run around earth for a few hours begging some of their most ardent followers like Harold Camping and Tammy Faye Baker to come up to heaven and hang out for a stretch. Not saying that God & Jesus would invite me to this rapture party, but on the odd chance they did invite me, I'd beg off. Not that I have any issue with God or Jesus. I mean who doesn't like Jesus??? He seems like the kind of guy who'd be pretty cool to sit around the bar with for a few hours shooting the breeze about hoops, football, the latest bad movie, or whatever. I don't think Jesus would get too upset if you accidentally blew smoke in his face either. I'm sure he's a cool guy and all. No, my issue is not hanging with Jesus or even his Pops in heaven. My issue would be with hanging with the Harold Campings and Dan McLeans of the world. Those guys would drive me crazy. I'd rather stay behind here on earth and sit around the bar hoping Andy, Ross, Q, Brandon, or Geilfuss might drop in for a drink or 2.

The worst thing about the world ending today is that I won't have fulfilled my lifelong dream to have a drink with Liz Phair. Other than that, sadly I might add, I have done everything I ever set out to do. It was a short list. And I mostly kept expectations low. That's the key right there. It really is. I swear I'm not making that up.

See ya, don't wanna be ya, lunch meat, pond scum...