I woke up this Apocalypse at 10:04 AM. I was not in my own bed, but not in an apocalyptic kind of way; I crashed at the “ghetto fabulous” flat of Ronin (the camera-wielding video smith of HotMop Films) and woke up on the sofa bed. The sun was shining through the window and, looking out into it, I found the day the world would undoubtedly change–forever: a sunny Saturday with a blue sky that forbode, with the CERTAINTY OF A THOUSAND HAROLD CAMPINGS, an extremely pleasant afternoon. I turned on my 360, played Streets of Rage 2 until Ronin woke up and joined me, and then we got burgers, completely forgetting all the while to work on our movie idea. I also got a black and white shake. And then bought Amazing Spider-Man #660 from Silver Age Comics in Queens and read it all the way back to the Bronx.
And now, here I am, casually knocking out this article and thinking to myself, Maybe beer, pizza, and finishing ODST with my brother tonight?
And that’s when I realize it. Not that I kind of love the idea of a fanatic going ape shit and promising doom to everyone on a specific date, because I realized I loved that when I dished out my first (of many) Apocalypse 2011 jokes. No, I lean back in my seat and breath in the warm, summer breeze from my window, I feel the post Beer-and-Video-Games-Night-with-a-Buddy glow I’m still enjoying and think, Yeah… This has got to be the best Apocalypse ever.
I think about it and realize: yes, I cared about Y2K because there was science involved and I was young and impressionable enough to think, Hey. Maybe. <shrug> I didn’t pay attention to the 2008 Apocalypse (to the point that I’m not even sure I heard my friends right when they mentioned it [Maybe it was 1998? Maybe they were talking about a Genesis concert they went to?]). If there were any besides, I’ve missed them… So, yes, this totally is the best Apocalypse so far.
And, really, it makes me want to thank… uh… what’s-his-face. <checks his tabs> Harold Camping! Right! It makes me want to thank that guy, because the Apocalypse is now, officially, a holiday. A magical, moving holiday that sometimes comes after a year, other times after eight or more, but is always the best holiday ever, because you can lean back and think that somewhere out there, a pompous asshole who tried to spread mass hysteria feels like a complete moron–right now. And, in fact, he will (and you can smile as you think that) all day.
Does this mean I’m an atheist? No–I believe, although I do it in a complex way so that pretty much no one agrees with me (whether atheists or Churchies). But I definitely don’t believe in spending a ton of money to tell the world, “Well, too bad you didn’t repent, you stupid heathens! And now, enjoy five months of torment for not being as perfect as me!”
And hey, maybe you disagree, and really that’s fine and completely your prerogative. But all I can say is, we just survived the Apocalypse together, brother. Relax. Have a beer. Read a Bible. Start planning Apocalypse 2014.
Me? I’m going to call my brother about that pizza.
House of Error 
I didn’t realize today was a holiday until you pointed it out. And that’s the perfect word for the feeling I had all day. It’s how holidays are supposed to feel. There was that hint of… at any moment, the crazies could pop out with their doomsday nonsense. Just knowing otherwise just made it great. I mean, coworkers were like, “Hey, you were promised the day that you were born that you were going to die,” and it’s like, “???? That has nothing to do with… you know, just forget it. You guys aren’t even trying anymore.” I’m glad I worked today so I could watch all the people buying beer, frozen burger patties, buns, and charcoal. That’s all anyone really gives a shit about and it’s beautiful.
That does, in fact, sound like a pretty awesome work day. I would’ve smiled at every person buying BBQ supplies and said, “We made it!”
We definitely didn’t get a lot of weird comments like that “promised the day that you were born” business around here. I can understand if that part was kind of rough, because, hey, the Churchies on the train here in New York really suck sometimes.
Case in point: the 30 year old Dominican man who sometimes rides the 2 train and–literally–screams at everyone. Not angrily; he’s just that loud. I appreciate the part of his 20-minute-long rant that’s all in Spanish because I like listening to the rhythm of it. Once he switches into English though, I get pissed. Why? Because it’s–literally–“Jesus is coming! Jesus is coming for your salvation! You salvation is at hand! But let me tell you something! You are not ready! People, you have to get ready for Jesus to come! You have to give your soul to Jesus! Cause Jesus is coming! Jesus is coming for your salvation! You salvation is at hand! But let me tell you something! You are not ready! People, you have to get ready for Jesus to come! You have to give your soul to Jesus! Cause Jesus is coming! Jesus is coming for your salvation! You salvation is at hand! But let me tell you something! You are not ready! People, you have to get ready for Jesus to come! You have to give your soul to Jesus! Cause…” I’m a writer and I hate repetition. This dude’s brain is lousy with it! It’s preeeetty annoying.