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I have studied this Mayan Doomsday thing with my sharp, rational mind and urge you not to fret.
I mean, if the world is supposed to end, where exactly is it supposed to go? Stuff just doesn’t vanish no matter how much you’d like it to. It’s been 13 years since I last moved, and the garage is still full of unopened boxes.
And if the Mayans are so good at foretelling the future, how come you never see any of them at the convenience store on Saturday nights scooping up Powerball tickets?
Upon this logic I have deduced that the end of the Mayan calendar is no biggie. Mayans will just have to do what I do – go out in January and buy a new one, on sale.
Prophesies of doom are popular because people absolutely love to have something to worry about. This is why we have TV meteorologists.
You’re peacefully watching a game when they break in, jabbing at purple blobs on the map that represent the onslaught of liquid death. In Charlotte, every spring and summer is like living in the Old Testament.
And people love it. They compare survival stories the next day.
Fiscal cliff? No biggie. My household budget is permanently perched on one. But let one loom in Washington and suddenly it’s a worrisome crisis where the taxpayers might have to actually pony up for all the spending Congress does.
Predictions of End Times serve a purpose, though, in sort of a fortune-cookie way. They remind us to get our holiday cards out a little early and put off dental surgery another month, just in case.
They inspire us to reflect on enjoying the time we have and on the mysteries of life, as in, “Why does the world always have to end just when the Panthers get hot?”
Doomsday predictions have been common throughout history and even during our days. You remember Y2K? Or that “Heavens Gate” group in San Diego where the people were supposed to fly off on a comet? Or Harold Camping, the biblical interpreter who figured out the world would end on May 21, 2011, then rechecked his math when Judgment Day passed with a ho-hum and he announced he was five months off?
We live in the modern, scientific age. It’s time to stop cooking up apocalyptic nonsense. I want someone to put an end to it.
Just not the Mayans.
