At this point, it’s actually comical.

I was not prepared for today.

I was not prepared for a whole day off after 7 days of work, and the fact that I might, just possibly, have some energy after the harrowing Plague infestation my body encountered. It has been nearly three weeks since I uttered a Stormy Daniels-type reply to a slightly sore throat:

“Uh-oh. Here we go.”

I want to insert my firm insistence that I would much rather get the Plague than do what she found herself reacting to when she saw the Orange Load sitting on the hotel room bed. And get the Plague, I did. But I feel a lot better now and this burst of energy was a huge bonus. With only 24 hours with which to do things and to sleep before the next block of work begins, I made a list, with the reward for my successful ticks off the list being a few episodes of the 4th season of Grace and Frankie. I’m a binger in that, once I begin a series, I feel the need to see it to the end, even at the surrender of all other shows I enjoy. I don’t know if I am alone in this particular tendency, but I also don’t care. You do Netflix and chill your way, I’ll do it mine.

Grace And Frankie Season 3
Look at those kitchen mixers…..yeah, that’s it. Hand blenders!

My one big road block today was this blog. I simply had no ideas. I could discuss silly things, or serious things. I could rant about Tide Pods and kids eating them. You don’t want that, though, do you? You can get that from so many other places! (Like, literally, everywhere. Here’s a really good, non-fake news story if you have been living underneath a rock and have NO clue about what I am talking about. ) With that in mind, I searched my brain for something, anything, relevant. New, interesting, funny.

Bueller?

Then, I saw it. There it was: a new story about how the End of the World is once again happening! Yes, folks, it’s on! The whackadoody Evangelicals or whatever you want to call them have decided, since the last, what? Three dates, was it? I dunno….but anyway, the last few dates where The End IS Here came, and went, and all we got was a dunce President. Ready for it? Okay. The new End Times will commence on June 24th of this very year. That’s right, folks, it’s on! I do want to throw out a sincere apology to my middle daughter, because she’s getting Armageddon for her birthday two days early this year. Sorry, Honey, but Mama is always really invested in getting you something unique, right?

I said all that I needed to say about this momentous event about 7 years ago, when the first End of Days was nigh. Never mind that it didn’t come to pass; I have full confidence that, if we keep skipping merrily down the current path this country is on, we will get there. No worries. So, without further ado, here is a blog originally published then, and still so relevant today that I just don’t have anything else to add. Enjoy. And start getting your bunkers ready! (Again.)

aem
Oh, Jesus!

The Final Countdown to May 21, 2011, or “Why I think I will be left behind.”

I have been following, with some irritation and more than a little amusement, the latest doomsday predictions put out there by the religious zealots who truly believe in them. In the past, we’ve been led to believe that the End will occur in 2012. Before that, most of the religious crackheads advised basically what was written in the Bible – specifically, Revelations. They watched for the signs of the Apocalypse and excitedly shouted whenever something that even vaguely resembled one of those signs happened in some Third Word country where of course, plague and starvation and insect infestation and dead animals weren’t, you know, the norm. I don’t know about you, but had I believed them every time they advised that The End Was Near, I’d be, well….dead. Right?

This latest prediction claims to be rooted in science. Specifically, some religious fruitbat has come up with a Formula that actually predicts the End of Days according to some mathematical equations that, when put to work with the things said in the Bible, comes up with what he is positive is an accurate date. I’m not making this up….and if you’ve been watching the news since the beginning of the year, you’ve probably read some interviews with his followers. They’re everywhere, you know, and they want to get the word out so we can all prepare.

The lowdown is that, on May 21 of this very year, Judgement will occur. Those found worthy of Heaven will leave then, be magically carried away on a magic carpet ride to God’s House such as they could have never imagined possible. Those left behind (and we know who we are) will remain on Earth, enduring suffering beyond anything ever dreamed in our worst nightmares, before being sent to the bowels of Hell 6 months later, on October 21st.

This sucks. I was really looking forward to Halloween this year. Can this be like taxes, where I file an extension? All I want is 10 more days. Halloween’s my favorite holiday! Who do I get in touch with? FEMA, right? Are they handling the End of Days? They’re the most natural choice, I’d think. Gaddafi’s got too much on his plate to be able to coordinate the End of Days effort, after all, and the United States always likes to be in charge of any cataclysmic event occurring anywhere in the world. We excel at disaster. Look at Katrina.

Anyway, back to my original train of thought, which is why I’m pretty positive that I will be left behind on the 21st of May. I’ve spent many hours of reflection on this, wondering if there could be some way I could make a last-ditch effort to redeem myself in the eyes of God and win a ticket on that Magic Carpet Ride to Heaven.

Okay….not really, but you just never know who might be tallying up things. Vocalizing regret about my past transgressions could help, right?

Something tells me I should be preparing for the last 6 months on this planet. I wonder if there’ll be a run on the grocery stores and hardware stores just before the 21st of May? How does one prepare for 6 months of “Judgement”? I have to assume that all the power will go out, because obviously only the good people have been running our world’s energy sources. I’m thinking I ought to quietly begin to stockpile gasoline in jugs underneath my house, so that I can fill the generator I’m going to have to buy. Gas will be hard to come by once the power goes out, and there won’t be a single Oil Company Executive left on the planet after May 21st. No one will be left to make those important decisions for those of us left behind. All the righteous will be having a barbecue in God’s back yard on the 22nd, looking down on us and shaking their heads sadly while we run around, pulling our hair out, screaming, “Why? In the name of God, WHY???” as we shake our fists angrily at the sky. Dick Cheney will probably shed more than a few tears as he gazes down at Earth and realizes that there’s no one left to make the right decisions for us.

Maybe I ought to re-convert myself back into Catholicism and go to confession before all of this goes down. Obviously, there won’t be a Catholic priest left to tend the leftover flock of sinners after May 21, right?

Before you ask if this is a blog or a nightmare, let me explain to you why I am sure I will be left behind to face Hell on October 21st.

According to Christian belief and wisdom, I am a sinner. I have broken a few of the Ten Commandments on more than one occasion. It’s not important that I list each and every single one here, but it is important that I acknowledge that I have committed them. I continue to break some of them on a daily basis, too. I swear. Daily. Like a sailor. I covet things. All the time. Not my neighbor’s wife, but then again, I don’t swing that way. Unless the neighbor’s wife was Shakira. Then I’d covet. Oh yes….I would covet a lot.

I’m divorced. There’s a strike against me. Being remarried doesn’t take it back. It’s not a do-over, or so I have been told.

I had a child out-of-wedlock. Even though his father and I married as soon as we were legally able to, there’s another strike.

I’ve never killed anyone, but I have wanted to. In some religious circles, this is just as bad. So there’s strike three.

A dozen or more little offenses come to mind, like the fact that I’m not afraid to have an opinion or two or three thousand, and I’m not afraid to voice them. Some people don’t like that, don’t like that I have ones different from theirs, and for whatever reasons, it upsets them. It upsets them even more when I explain that I’m allowed to have dissenting opinions from theirs, and that it doesn’t make me a bad person, or them a bad person, or either one of us wrong….just different. It upsets them when I advise them to work on their own lack of self-confidence and to leave mine alone.

I don’t like the color pink. I think it’s disgusting. This puts me at odds with a great many females on this planet. I happen to think that a black dress can be just as, if not more, feminine than some frothy pink concoction.

I’m comfortable with the fact that, while I’m not a genius, I’m pretty damned intelligent. I like to read. I like to pursue knowledge. I’m always on a quest for a new experience as long as it makes me feel comfortable doing so. I don’t always have to follow. I don’t have to lead, either. I prefer to go my own way. I prefer the quiet of my home to bars and parties and social events. Give me a choice between a rowdy evening with friends or a good book and the book is always going to win. This makes me a selfish, conceited asshole in some circles. This puts me on the short list for Those Who Are Condemned To Hell, because in order to be a good Christian, one must always think of others and see to their comfort and eschew their own.

I say Fuck that. See? I swear like a sailor.

I’ve been the dutiful wife, caring, dutiful mom-sister-daughter-friend. I still am, as a matter of fact. I just happen to care about myself, too. I am, therefore, a shoo-in for that long-boat ride with Charon down the River Styx.

That pretty much sums it up.

I hope that Hell has good pizza.

pizza
Pretty, petty, pretty good.
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