This is the way the world ends…

This is the way the world ends…

This is the way the world ends….

This is the way the world ends…

Not with a bang but a whimper.

T.S. Eliot

If you were to ask anyone when the world was going to end, you can be sure they will say 12/21/12. Oh, those silly Mayan’s. Those mofo’s from so long ago decided to strike fear in the heart of (wo)man with a date so embedded in our minds, that we fear what will happen when that finally arrives. I find myself constantly watching documentaries about the topic. Earthquakes, floods, volcanoes, tsunamis, among other deadly acts of nature. These people go on to say that if we were to survive that, we would have to live through a nuclear winter. The massive ash clouds (from the super volcanoes) will block out the sun. Eventually, plant life will die. When the plants die, so does our livestock. But again, if we were to live through that, we’ll have to suffer through global blackouts. The world will grow cold and eventually, we’ll either be struck by planet X or a large solar flare will rip a hole in our protective seal and nuke everything.

Now we’re dead. What a crappy way to die. That’s only if their theories are correct. I had a theory.  I was sure the world was going to end on 09/09/09 but it didn’t. I was upset when it didn’t. Not that I am wanting the world to end with me in it but to pick a date and be sure as hill that it will and it doesn’t. Yeah, it pissed me off. According to something I read or was told (or maybe I just made it up and thought it was told to me), the actual number of the devil isn’t 666 but 999. It’s kind of like when you’re reading a book upside down. So I believed that Armageddon was going to fall upon us on 09/09/09. Not to mention, it was just a day after my 30th birthday and we all know there is no life after 30. Put those two tidbits together and, BAM! End of the world.

09/09/09 came and went. I woke up that day. I look outside. Hmph. No fire. No brimstone. Damn you, logic! I felt cheated. So if that wasn’t the big end of the world date, what is? Is it 12/21/12? Will we come to a halt on that day? I can go on and explain everyone’s theories about it just being their calendar and that’s when their cycle ends. But I don’t want to. I don’t believe that will be the day it all comes crashing down. When the world does come to an end, no one alive today will witness it. Could the date mean something? Maybe. Do I think so? No.

I went to see the blockbuster 2012. It was a waste of money. It was a movie disaster. (yes. I meant to write that). Sure it was exciting to watch California fall in the ocean. We witnessed a super volcano kill Woody Harrelson. Even the cool guy, John Cusack couldn’t save the world. And what happens at the end of the movie? It’s effin’ Noah’s Ark! Sorry if I spoiled it for you. As a favor, I won’t say what happens at the end of Titanic. The effects were awesome. The acting was weak. But like all the movies that preceded it, I went and watched it. I love disaster movies. I love movies about the end of the world or the end of the human race. So how will the world end?


It might not seem plausible but I will take this idea over all the others. I imagine far too often about this. It’s usually when I am driving home from the movies. There is this road I take always when I head back home. As I am driving down it, I get this picture playing in my head of a woman running down the street towards me. She is waving frantically. She is covered in blood. As I get closer, I see a man chasing her. Holy s*t! It’s a zombie. I slam on my breaks and stop in the road. She reaches my car and bangs on the window. I hear her screaming to let her in. I don’t though. I am frozen in fear. I see the zombie getting closer. She catches me staring at him and screams louder. I am still sitting there. I don’t know what to do. It’s not until the zombie lunges at her and she is tackled to the ground. He devours her, ripping the flesh from her arms and chest. I speed away and keep looking in my review mirror. The zombie is up and walking away. Ahead of me, I see a herd of zombies lurching out from the woods.

I’m effed.

This is usually when I snap back to reality and have a hard time deciding what I want to be. Do I want to be a zombie and feast on flesh or be one of those rebels who hunt down zombies? I think I would look good in camouflage. I want to wear combat boots (you’re mother wears combat boots). I want to have a backpack full of ammo, guns strapped to my body and a hunting knife tucked inside my boot. I’d be a bad-ass. Zombies just don’t decided to get up one day. They don’t just want to dance and hang with the King of Pop. Something has to start turning the wheels. I know exactly how it starts and who starts it. Let me break it down for you..