A Mayan Reckoning
A moment of silence.
Which was impossible when I could hear my arteries hardening, eating this stuff.
But I digress.
It's almost here: December 21, 2012. The long-anticipated end of the Mayan Calendar.
If you ordered Christmas gifts, I hope you did like I dun, and had 'em delivered early. That's the old Boy Scout "Always be prepared" in me.
Yep. In the past few years, we've weathered bible code predictions of a planet-ending asteroid; three mathematically 'perfect' Rapture predictions that worked out as well as congressional budgeting; and a renewal of Dancing With The Stars.
How much more, as a planet, can we take?
Well, we're about to find out if we'll have to take anything anymore, from anyone:
If that's true, you can bet the IRS made it so, so they could soak us one more time.
Rather than ponder what the 'end' might be like in a few days -- or what it might be like to be one of those who prepares for 'the end', only to find they gotta go to work the next day -- I am pondering just what kind of characters the Mayans who created this particular calendar were like.
Were they like this:
Not that I'd mind skipping filling out tax forms for 2012, with a hi-ho hearty "PHFFFFFFT" to the IRS.
But I don't reckon I'm gonna git to do that.
No, if I go with my gut -- and I have no choice, it's attached and is usually in front of me wherever I go these days -- there's gonna be a December 22. 23. 24.
And -- sorry, atheists -- a December 25.
Life will go on.
At least until the next Doomsday prophecy comes to the fore.
Like Joe Biden for president in 2016.
Er..I meant to refer to 'doomsday', not 'dumbsday'.