I love my job at GlobalPost extra this time of year: the time of the year when our restive world begins clamoring for end-of-the-year wrap-ups of really silly things.
Add in an impending Mayan apocalypse, and you’ve basically got my idea of career heaven. If only we could have a towering inferno and a hotly contested presidential election every year. (No, that would be terrible).
As for the apocalypse…..
It’s 2:15 AM here in Cambodia and I have seen exactly no one running by my window in flames. Zero Mayan death beasts. Satan has not yet stalked by my hotel room, carrying a flaming trident.
Do apocalypses require some time to rev up? Should I go to bed? I’d like to approach the end times with eyes wide-open. Or at least see it coming when I’m vaporized into indistinct oblivion.
I was merely 11 years old during the last apocalypse in 2000, and my primary memories of that earlier end-time involved watching Sponge Bob re-runs and drinking sparkling apple cider until I got tired. This was less than thrilling.
CNN is no use: they’re just talking about some boring errata about Bernie Madoff’s brother. And showing grainy footage of equally boring, non-flaming tourists walking around Chichen Itza, looking all nonchalant. (SOME OF THEM ARE EVEN BACKPACKERS).
I want my money back.