In all seriousness, a small part of me is hoping that the Mayans were right, and shit's only starting to get real. Realistically, I don't actually believe that. But a small part of me hopes, not unlike how a small child hopes Santa is real or how Browns fans hope to see a Lombardi Trophy. I dunno, I guess my reasoning is motivated by George Carlin: Totally off-topic: you're all invited to my December 20, 2012 kegger. Dragon shirts only. Okay, so 'hope' wasn't the correct word. Let's just say I'm 'pleasantly anxious.' Either nothing happens, and we live, or shit gets real, and we all get front-row seats to Michael Bay's wet dream. I don't invest heavily in it, though; it's just some goofy, passing thought I have, to quote Carlin, "when I'm sitting at home and the power goes out." I know full well I'm not the only one in this place with a wild and bizarre imagination.
I'm planning a happy hour for Constitutional Daily on June 17th in NYC. If any of you lawyer-types want to stop by, send me a PM and I'll get you the details once a place is picked (the decision will come down to how much cash I have and the number of people interested).
Deep down, most people want to live to see the end-of-days. That's why there's a new apocalyptic theory every few years. People in the 1600s thought the world was going to end in their lifetime. People in the 1700s thought the world was going to end in their lifetime. People in the 1800s...and so on. It's the "why" that's the tricky part. My best guess: Human beings like to feel important; we all exist at the center of our own universe. We want to be the heart of the story, and what better story than experiencing the end of days? When we're all sipping cocktails in hell (which is where you're going if you post on this message board, don't kid yourself), who's going to get to bang the Shegirl-avatar-lookalikes? The guy who died through autoerotic asphyxiation in 2002, or the guy who was blasted into the earth by a FUCKING COMET? Besides, it's not like if the world ends I'LL actually die. Just all of you fucks. Obviously, I'll be among the lucky ones (of which I'm assuming the ratio will be 8:1 female to male) forced to repopulate the world.
For me, it's not the desire to think my life is important for having been here at the end. Frankly, I think I'm going to make a bigger contribution if the world goes on without me. I think a lot of people have the end of the world fantasies because they want freedom from the consequences of the choices they've made. You'll notice there's very little end-of-the-world stories, but a lot of what-happens-after-the-shit-hits-the-fan stuff. People want to think that they'll be given a fresh start.
Whatevs. You'll see my chainsaw-weilding ass in Thunderdome, bitches. Some say that two enter, but only one may leave. I'm not worried, fuck we LOVE camping up here. It gives you an excuse to shotgun 15 beers and jump naked over a stoked-up fire
I'll be curled up in the fetal position offering my unwavering loyalty to whoever will either rescue me or put me out of my misery. Or if I was a praying gal, I could just pray to be part of the "first wave" of disaster, whatever it may be, just so long as it is swift.
Yeah, unless it happens like it does in "The World Without Us," where everyone suddenly disappears, I have to vote for going in the first wave. No way do I want to live through the nuclear holocaust and eek out an existence like in a Cormac McCarthy novel.
I don't know, I'd love to walk around in goggles n' leather getting in all in all kinds of dusty adventures.
You're missing the obvious: we like watching shit blow up. Yeah, but consider how much sex there will be. If the world was ending, we'd all start fucking like bunnies. In other news, Jurassic Park is on TV. Fuck yes. I don't care if I own it on DVD and saw it 2 weeks ago. MOTHERFUCKING DINOSAURS.
I got hammered last year when I was still living in the dorms. Put in that DVD out of nostalgia. Spent the next 2 hours loudly yelling advice at Jeff Goldblum. My neighbors across the hall were quite amused. And regarding what to do in the event one survives the End of Days, I have two words: Fallout 3. The nerd in me would go around shooting at anything that moves in the pursuit of more XP.
This weekend sucks balls. I really wish I could put myself in a drunken stupor for the weekend. As it stands I'm watching Top Gear and drinking a root beer float.
Everyone loves being that one guy wandering around in post-apocalyptica when billions of others died from from whatever event. I don't think I'd want to see that, I think it would be a fucking living nightmare. The best, most realistic portrayal was the "After Armageddon" special on the Discovery Channel. It didn't look like one bit of fun.
I just ate my first peep ever. The second one, I put on a slotted spoon, poured absinthe over, and lit on fire. True story.
The apocalyptic nightmare scenario is yet another reason to buy a motorcycle. If movies have taught me anything, it's that people who own motorcycles do okay. Also, scaring the crap out of my sister's boyfriends even more than I already do.
Shit, I thought it looked pretty awesome, but I'm weird like that. I like the idea of a post-apocalyptic world because the human population would be forced to return to the natural order of things. People would no longer be coddled if they're weak or stupid. Only people with strength, intelligence, and survival skills would be able to make it. I can't be the only one on this board who's encountered a loud-mouthed, entitled shithead and thought "If the apocalypse happened, you'd be one of the people who wouldn't survive." I guess what I'm trying to say is, stupid people make me want the fucking world to end.