Digital Vision./Photodisc/Getty Images
So you've read the tea leaves, decoded the Bible, and found an ancient stone tablet buried under a box of ancient stone Underoos and tactical bacon, and all signs point to the end of the world being nigh. Nothing good is ever described as being nigh. What's a person to do?
We've had apocalypse scares for years now, from semi-legit-sounding ones like Y2K (which is to say people on the news really made it seem like it could be a problem) to totally batshit crazy ones like Harold Camping and his calendar-hopping Armageddon that just keeps rescheduling itself. Combine those with all the movies that broach the subject, and odds are every one of us has, at some point, pondered what we would do if we knew the world was ending. It's an interesting thought exercise, but one that is far too often treated as a joke. So what better place to seriously address this issue than a comedy site? No jokes here. Let me put on my spectacles and some thinking trousers.
If the world were going to end tomorrow, or in a week, or in some inconveniently short period of time, I like to think these are the things we should all do to wrap up what was, all things being equal, a pretty alright existence.
If you're a religious sort of person, chances are some part of you feels that you need to have your soul all squared away before you die, lest you be judged a dirty, ass-faced scumbag by your higher power. Your higher power does that, right? I think there's something in the Bible about that, but I don't know if Buddha or Vishnu used that term or whatever. In any event, you probably want your soul to be less tainted than your taint.
On the other side of the coin, if you have no faith, if you're a devout agnostic or atheist, you may not be concerned with what comes after the end of all things, but consider this -- until everything ends, someone out there, right now, probably thinks you're a prolapse-faced turd charmer. Is that how you want to go out? The world is ending even though you still have two years left on your phone contract, you've got half the money saved for a trip to the Dominican, you were totally going to have some sex next week, and Avengers 2 was probably going to have Thanos and Ant-Man in it. But now you're going to die, plus someone thinks you're a prolapse-faced turd charmer. For f**k's sake.
If you can tie up loose ends before it's all over, you should do so, and that may mean swallowing a big, greasy load of pride and apologizing to people you've wronged. And you've wronged someone at some time, whether you meant to or not. Just looking at the comment section for one of my articles makes it clear that I apparently wrong total strangers every week by tying them down and forcing them to read my articles, which must be the reason they keep coming back to complain and not because my sweet, seductive words have winnowed into their brains and lured them back like the siren's call each and every week to fill a sexy void inside them that is so delightful and so enticing that they lash out in anger as a defense mechanism against all the sexy Felix-fun-time thoughts I make them have. Hey, angry commenter, I like the cut of your jib. Go on, tell me I suck. We all know what your negative comments mean now (I'm licking my lips while I type this, in case you can't tell).
And it's not like the people you're apologizing to are going to be dicks about forgiving you. They're dying soon too, so they have no reason to hold a grudge. Doesn't mean some won't, but then you'll know that person was a dick and you were right to wrong them in the first place and your apology can be hollow and meaningless because f**k them right in their dick-headed ear.
Comstock Images/Comstock/Getty Images
We live in a pretty sexually liberated time, if my search history is any indication. Fetishes, quirks, various fluid-producing activities -- they're all fair game, and really, as long as no one is being hurt or exploited, most sex is good sex, if that's what you're into.
Sadly, despite our advanced society, the world is still riddled with people best described as shitbirds. The sorts of people who can't tell you where Europe is on a map, or who maybe think there's some scientific debate about evolution and that butter can be consumed as a beverage. Many of these people also tend to have issues with people of different races and religions. It's a sad state of affairs.
If the world were going out, and we're talking like a meteor strike, or aliens have us targeted to be turned into a space mall or whatever, it'd be nice to go out on a high note. A note of peace and brotherhood (and sisterhood, for you ladies out there who don't like man-things). What better way to achieve a sense of community and overall world peace than by humping away intolerance?
I've long believed, and I think maybe Stephen Hawking once proved this with very advanced mathology, that you could eliminate racism if you just had more sex with more people. Yeah, you should be responsible and not run around like a gun loaded with the herpes virus blasting at other people's goody slots all willy-nilly, but forgetting that for a moment, just get a little freaky with people from various backgrounds and you'll see, at the end of the day, that we're all the same when we're soaping each other's crevasses in the shower.
As you may have noticed in my previous column on racism, my approach to race relations is a bit left of center, and some went so far as to suggest that I might be Hitler's Deep South Civil War-era cousin, but that was mostly a misunderstanding. I strive for unity and peace. Also piece. As in ass. So if the world is ending, do yourself and mankind a solid by taking a trip to the U.N. of Booty and go out loving people from all around the world.
This seems contrary to the point of the world ending, but there's a very good reason to support hoarding -- the world is supposed to end all the time. It's never actually happened yet, so you're just playing the odds. Now if something irrefutable comes along, some Michael Bay wet dream of a cataclysm, and the world's scientists are all in agreement that we're more screwed than a drunken Kardashian, then that is awful for us and probably means it will be pointless, but hoarding is still a win-win situation, if you can count the annihilation of all life as a potential win.
If everyone and everything dies, then it doesn't matter that you've outfitted a massive underground lair with water and rations and enough porno to see you through a new epoch. But if it's a glitch, or say it's a sort of shart apocalypse that just gets messy but doesn't go full bore and leaves some of us still alive, well then weren't you prepared? People are going to be looking up to you in the new world. People and super mutants. Or maybe you'll just become a target for raiders. That being said, please ensure that you hoard weapons as well. And not just normal weapons -- guns and machetes are great, but you're going to need to be a little psychotic and a whole lot scary if you want to ride the post-apocalyptic wave through to retirement, because if there's one thing Hollywood and video games have assured us of, it's that the mutants and gangs will probably spend all day and night circling your place with dune buggies, howling, climbing the walls, attacking on large scorpions, etc. Try to learn how to make explosives and booby traps, it'll make your new life a lot easier.
Digital Vision./Photodisc/Getty Images
You know how some people work like dogs all their lives and squirrel money away for retirement and they're the most responsibly dull people ever because they have this life course plotted out and they know how their interest compounds for the next 20 years so they're aware they'll have a million dollars on the exact day they retire? Well now we're all doomed, so I bet they feel like assholes.
It's great to plan for tomorrow, until you run out of tomorrows. Now it's time to indulge yourself and live it up while you still have a chance. We're all conditioned to mete out pleasures to ourselves in tiny little bundles because we know we can't live like hedonists forever, drunk all the time, eating chicken wings covered in fudge while dancing with robot strippers and cloning dinosaurs. Because on Monday we have to go to work, or maybe someone will call the cops about the way we change the oil in our robot strippers and life changes from all the chicanery of The Hangover to the morbid depression of The Hangover 3. It sucks. Or it used to. This is one of the big upsides to the world ending: responsibility ends a few days earlier. No one gives a s**t what you do now, and leading the not-giving-a-s**t charge should be you.
Do you want to eat nothing but bacon-wrapped Big Macs stuffed with tacos until the world ends? Do it! Buy one for me if anyone is dumb enough to show up for work at a McDonald's knowing that the world is ending. Do you want to be drunk and naked until the bitter end? Literally no one is going to stop you or even question you. In fact, you may inspire some dude who still has his pants on to grab some Jim Beam and join you.
If you're like me, your whole life is a ramshackle tower of deception and exaggeration built on a shaky foundation of desperation. Every so often, though, the genuine me shines through in an unadulterated, sincere way. I like to think most people are like this, to a greater or lesser degree. You keep yourself guarded, you share only so much of your true feelings, your dreams, your motivations, your desires. You fear the rejection of your innermost self so you guard it like it's the most precious thing you own. And in a lot of ways it is. More precious than jewels, or even sweet, nourishing beer.
There are occasions in life when people become aware that they are dying, and no doubt this drastically alters their perception of themselves, others, and the world in general. But what if we all knew it? Would there be any need for pretense anymore? Any need to hold back? Imagine, even for a day, being part of a world in which no one is afraid to be themselves, to say all the secret things they keep deep down inside. Sure, you're going to find the odd duck who wants you to accept that he's always wanted to hump a donkey, but overall it'd probably be a much more positive and liberating experience.
Thinkstock Images/Comstock/Getty Images
"I'm sorry, the gentleman wants to do what?"
It's a tragedy that we live in fear of ourselves, and in fear of how others will react to us if we live our lives unfiltered. It is our insecurities and doubts and ignorance that we keep quiet inside of us that lead to all of our regrets, misunderstandings, and hate. And this builds across individuals to encompass whole societies and countries. How different would your world be if you felt free to tell every person you know what you think is beautiful about them -- their kindness, their wit, their sex appeal, their intelligence. How different would your world be if people told you such things about yourself? If you not only felt valued by close friends in an unspoken or rarely spoken way, but knew explicitly that your presence made someone excited to meet the day because they knew you'd be in it.
Of course the downer that everyone is dying takes some of the wind out of the sails of that scenario and makes our little touchy-feely utopia more depressing, but hey, you gotta break a few eggs to make an omelet, and sometimes you need an apocalypse before you can work up the nerve to tell your hot friend that you always smell her hair and secretly think about licking her neck when she walks by. Not in a creepy way, though. Actually maybe just take that one to the great beyond.
Also, one more thing to do before the apocalypse takes us all is check out This Is the End, and learn more from the masters.
Before the 20th century, most of the world was a toilet.
If a woman is annoyed at a seemingly innocuous string of words, there's probably a reason for it.
Most fans of this show aren't old enough to remember the Reagan era.
It's hard to end a TV show satisfactorily.
It's just the wind ... or is it?