It’s the end of the world as we know it - and so what?
As an avid consumer of news, I’m considering adopting a few new hobbies over the next few months.
They include: Developing a crystal meth addiction, having 12 sugars in my morning coffee, throwing cinder blocks through shopfronts, having unprotected sex with at least four people a day, permanently wearing one of those beer helmets and making a giant inflatable ark-type thing out of all those condoms I won’t be using.
In case you’ve been living under a rock in a Cold War-style nuclear bunker, the end of the world has been slated for 2012… or 2036… or something.
The latest prediction comes from a batch of ever-cheerful Russian scientists, who have predicted that the asteroid Apophis may decimate Earth on April 13, 2036.
It seems that every few months some crafty bloke with a chemistry set puts out a press release detailing how the end is nigh, or nigh-ish.
None of them, however, have managed to find time to come up with a couple of solutions (except John Cusack, of course).
It’s been like some sort of horrible visit to the doctor.
“Ah yes, Mr Tin, please take a seat.”
“Right, we’ve analysed the sample we took from your broken finger and I’m afraid the news is not good.”
“You mean it won’t heal?”
“No, I mean you have a brain tumour.”
“What!? Is it treatable?”
“Not in the slightest. I just thought you should know. Lollipop?”
But while this distinct lack of a Plan B may seem like a cause for concern, it is quite the opposite.
Instead of huddling together crying like those sooks in Deep Impact, we can have some real fun.
I, for one, will be unleashing my inner Charlie Sheen as the big hand on the Doomsday Clock creeps ever-closer to midnight.
But each to his own, I guess.
If you want to spend the next decade sawing pine and running around the neighbourhood yelling “has anyone got a spare male anteater?” - be my guest.
I, on the other hand, will spend the final, terrifying days of this planet we call Earth stirring a bubbling cauldron of narcotics while scoffing Big Macs.
Who knows, I may even indulge in that greatest of taboos – watching back-to-back episodes of Two and a Half Men.
I’m sure I won’t be alone. There is undoubtedly a scientific correlation between believing that wearing bowling shirts, cargo pants and sporting a centre-parting makes you a ladies’ man and eating up “end of the world” predictions.
Admittedly, it has been easy to get caught up in the hype.
First we had the film “2012”, which taught us two things: the entire world is due to turn upside down next year, and character development will cease to exist.
Then, as you may well know, a bunch of birds and assorted sea creatures began turning up dead in terrifying droves.
To many, this was a sign of things to come.
While waiting for a bus at Adelaide St a few weeks ago, a fellow with wild hair, shimmering aviators and a shirt that read “And on the Eighth Day God Created Me”, began “educating” me about how our plummeting feathered friends were the first sign of the apocalypse.
“It’s the devil,” he said.
“It’s the ganga,” I thought.
He also pointed to the fact that the Mayan calendar stops at 2012. Apparently, this has been of particular concern to folks for some time.
I personally don’t think it’s a huge deal.
I can’t see any reason why an ancient civilisation would need to stretch their calendar beyond 2012.
“Should I add in 2013?”
“Ugh. No. We’re only putting this thing together so we can schedule the next six Saturday footy matches and the odd sacrifice. Two millennia should cover it. Idiot.”
My personal prediction for the end of the world has left me a little red-faced.
Turns out civilisation didn’t crumble during the red carpet premier of Justin Bieber’s biopic.
However, I’m still quietly confident that fire and brimstone will rain down during the series finale of “Sarah Palin’s Alaska”.
For now, I’m going with the asteroid thing.
That means I’ve got 25 years to plan the craziest party ever and the coolest last words.
Let’s just hope they’ve got it right this time.
If this bloody rock doesn’t smack into us, April 14 will be a very awkward day indeed.
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