December 21st will be here before you know it and I don't know about you, but I have an extra pair of Fruit of The Looms packed away with my Vienna Sausages just in case I'm wrong and all of the nut cases aren't. I find comfort in the knowledge that that I have a spare pair of drawers and a can of congealed pig parts should the unthinkable happen.
My mother always taught me that you should always have a clean pair of underwear with you in case you're ever in an accident. I guess she figured that if you had that clean pair of underwear and were in an accident you could put them on quickly before emergency crews arrived. Or maybe she meant that you should always wear clean underwear. I'm not sure exactly how she meant it, but just to be safe I will change into a fresh pair the morning of December 21st and have that spare pair on me. I call them my doomsday underwear and I have them behind glass.
In a post-apocalyptic world clean Fruit of the Looms are going to be worth their weight in gold.
People have been predicting the end of the world for about as long as the world's been in existence, so I really don't expect anything to happen except for a lot of disappointment and wall-to-wall news coverage of the nothing that was. Every network will go live to correspondents across the globe who will all confirm that nothing happened. Then, the very next day, some scientist will hold a press conference to say that his calculations were incorrect, thus spawning renewed distress in people who have nothing better to do than worry about stuff that they can't control.
On the other hand, those news reports might look something like this:
I remember sitting down to draw up a multiplication table when I was a kid because I was too stupid to realize that there already was one in the back of my math book. I got to about 2x9, saw something shiny, lost interest, and went outside to annoy the neighbors. I kind of figure the same thing might have happened to the Mayan who created their calendar. Doing all of those calculations and then transferring said calculations onto a big ass rock is hard, tedious work, and the guy might have had a short attention span, or he might have just been tired and wanted to be outside sacrificing rival tribesmen like everyone else; he just never picked back up where he left off.
Every 18 months or so I create a calendar to stick on my wall that I can glance at and see all of the important dates; vacations, holidays, etc. The calendar I currently have expires on the last day of July, 2013. Just because I didn't complete all of 2013 doesn't mean the world ends at the end of July, it just means that I got lazy.
