What makes the upcoming apocalypse particularly galling is that I really like Christmas. It’s the most wonderful time of the year and I was looking forward to it! Moreover, December 21st 2012 is my last day in the office. Why has the cosmos chosen to rob me of both Christmas and my annual leave?
This is the end; this is the end, my friend. I don’t know why you’re so happy, busily planning your winter festivities. I’m sorry to tell you that all of your preparations are in vain. Haven’t you heard? Planet Earth has less than a week to live. It’s the end of the world as we know it, yet strangely, I feel fine.
Well, ‘fine’ might be stretching it a bit, but I have reached the point of acceptance. What else is there to do but to keep calm and carry on blogging? Sadly, the logic of it all is indubitable. Why wouldn’t
an ancient civilisation have been able to predict the demise of humanity to the exact day? Why would they have bothered going to the trouble of devising a 5215-year, non-repeating Mesoamerican Long Count calendar, if they didn’t know what they were talking about?
After all, the calendar that we use in the West was introduced by a bone-idle pontiff. Pope Gregory XIII – a man whose taken name had been recycled more times than a tin can – was clearly not an enemy of repetition. Because of his laissez-faire attitude towards finality, we’ve been left with a substandard calendar that continues ad infinitum
. 365-day cycles? I ask you. Try making a calendar which incorporates almost 2,000,000 consecutive days Gregory, you lazy, lazy pope! Can you imagine the dedication that would have been necessary in order to create a calendar that spanned more than five millennia? If the ancients weren’t absolutely certain
that they were on the right track, they definitely
wouldn’t have bothered. Yes, it seems that the Maya* had all of their bases covered. December 21st
2012 will be the last day ever.
Once I’d accepted this inconvenient truth, I did a fair bit of moping. Why me (and the other 7,083,500,000-ish people currently inhabiting the planet)?** Why must I
be cut down in the prime of my youth? To be honest, I’m still a little miffed. What makes the upcoming apocalypse particularly galling is that I really
like Christmas. It’s the most wonderful time of the year and I was looking forward to it! Moreover, December 21st
2012 is my last day in the office. Why has the cosmos chosen to rob me of both
my annual leave?
Having concluded that I am certainly the most unfortunate sole wandering this doomed rock, it is time for me to address the only remaining question that matters: Apocalypse How? Well, based on extensive research,*** here are the three most likely forms that Armageddon will take.
Option one is that by this Friday, the environment will have had just about enough of our shenanigans. The widely held opinion that manmade climate change is likely to be a bigger pain in the glacier for our children and grandchildren than it will be for us, is wrong. Yes, we’ve finally cooked the planet like an overdone turkey. However, as far as my theories go, I think that this is the rank outsider. Everybody
knows that Christmas happens during the winter**** and global warming would almost certainly precipitate a summertime apocalypse.
Option two is that we are going to be struck by a wayward shard of intergalactic debris. As this disaster is scheduled to take place on Friday, there won’t be time to send Messrs Willis and Affleck up there to rectify the situation. Instead, we’re just going to have to suck it up like Ms Dunst. Essentially, if option two is correct, von Trier trumps Bay.
Option three is that the New Age thinkers are on the money. Basically, starting this Friday, the children of planet Earth will undergo a positive transformation of some sort. Perhaps we will experience mass spiritual enlightenment. Perhaps one of the grand challenges – such as climate change or global poverty – will be swiftly addressed in a way that frees up our greatest minds to concentrate on more creative and proactive projects. Perhaps people will stop watching – and thus, stop feeding the monster that is – Jeremy Kyle. Who knows?
Call me an old softy, but I’m going to plumb for option three. Personally, I am perfectly happy to get a bit fanciful if it results in some time off and a visit from Santa Claus. After all, isn’t that the true
meaning of Christmas?
* Or possibly the Olmec
** I admit that these people came as somewhat of an afterthought
*** That I can assure you I have conducted
isn’t widely read in the antipodes, so I can make this claim with impunity