By Jeff Shedden
It’s the end of the world as we know it
by Jeff Shedden
[email protected]
I’ve learned many things from the billboards along Florida’s Turnpike.
I’ve learned that if you’re a trucker, you can have a free shower at Café Risqué. I’ve learned that if you’re brave enough, you can get a cheap vasectomy from a creepy doctor who may or may not be a serial killer. The one thing I’ve learned that trumps everything else is that the world is ending this Saturday, May 21.
This prediction comes courtesy of Harold Camping, a civil engineer turned radio evangelist. Using his powers of numerology and mathematical wizardry, he’s determined that Saturday’s the day, despite a failed prediction of the same event in 1994. This time, he’s so sure that he and his followers have spent millions of dollars to inform us about it, through billboards and decals plastered on the windshields of cars driven by people with terrifying driving abilities.
I may not be a biblical scholar, nor have I ever heard Camping’s show, but his conclusions are good enough for me.
The first thing I needed to do was acquire a lot of money, and fast. I figure that loans will be the easiest way to get a bunch of cash quickly, especially since I’ll never have to pay it back. Several very nice loan officers agreed with me, too. They all nodded eagerly as I told them about the end of civilization, and why 22% daily compound interest didn’t bother me one bit.
With money handled, I need to spend these last days living life to the fullest. This does mean a huge party, of course. I’m going to drive to my huge party in my new Corvette. And then I’m going to drive to it again in my new Bentley. Last, I’m going to fly to it in my new helicopter.
I’ve got other things to attend to before any party, and everything is consequence free!
When I go punch that jerk in the Grimace costume at the big McDonald’s downtown for being so smug, my face won’t be on the news, because there won’t be any news for my face to be on!
Nobody is going to be able to stop me when I head to Sea World and force Shamu to be my personal watercraft, nor will anybody be able to do anything as I head to the Universal Studios parking lot and infringe upon any number of trademarks and copyrights as I perform my own version of “Blue Man Group.”
Some of my friends are convinced that I’m delusional and will have ultimately ruined my life when Sunday comes along and nothing will have happened.
The joke’s on them, though. I’ve been to Las Vegas before, and I won five bucks playing video poker, so I am pretty sure that makes me an expert at figuring out odds. So while they’re all wasting the last hours of their lives by being productive members of society, I’ll be painting myself bronze and doing my impression of a stripper pole. See you in the next world!
