Tuesday, April 19, 2011

A Respectful Rebuttal to “Shut Up About the 2012 Predictions Already” ~ A guest post by Lynne Hawkinson

I have to admit, I'm pretty blasé about 2012. Whether the world ends or not, right now we still have Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday, bills and colds and hangovers. I don't magically stop having allergies because the world is going to end, and I can still eat Butterfingers® and black-bean burritos whenever I want.

Granted, I have a very blasé attitude about mortality, thanks to my belief in reincarnation. Anyway, earthquakes, tsunamis, hurricanes and tornadoes I can accept. There are tidy, believable scientific theories to explain them. Global warming. The butterfly effect of millions of miles of paved roads and city blocks. Sheer bloody cussed weather. But recently, birds fell from the sky. On several occasions. Worldwide. Birds fell from the sky! DEAD! Didn't anybody else see The Seventh Sign? Doesn't that means God's out of souls or toilet paper or something?

I Googled "apocalypse" and this is what I got. Seriously. -- Wonderlane

And there are scientific theories for this event, too – stress from fireworks, high-altitude lightning, power lines – which sound great when you're talking just a few thousand dead blackbirds in the American Deep South, but kind of fall apart when you apply it to Sweden and Italy. I mean, how many high-altitude lighting storms can there be?

Not to worry, kids, that's just a weather balloon. -- Per Johansson

And power lines? I've seen wind-driven birds bash their little heads against windows, but I've never seen them break a power line. I mean, birds sit on power lines. They seem to have a handle on that whole situation.

I'd be more willing to believe those dead birds flew into a giant pane of glass.

And then there are the fish kills in the Chesapeake Bay, off the coast of Brazil, and in New Zealand. We're talking hundreds of tons of belly-up fish. If any of them were hemorrhaging or otherwise turning the sea red, I am officially freaking right the fuck out.

Really, the only reason to even discuss the end of the world is to ask: Okay, so the world is ending – what would you do after you finished freaking right the fuck out? Which is the only question worth asking anyone, in my opinion. What would I do? First of all, I'd keep my opinion to myself, because if the world is ending, I don't want to spend my final days fighting for my life in a riot. And I was about to say I'd eat a lot of junk food and sleep with that one guy who has been hurting my ovaries for awhile now, but no, that would be a bad habit to get into, because the end of the world is coming and I really don't want to reincarnate as a blue-speckled blob of ectoplasm on some planet far, far away.

Regardless of whether these things herald the true End of Times, the only advice anyone can give you is: Get your spiritual shit in order, if you have spiritual shit to get in order, and try to be a good person in the meantime. And isn't that really just good advice for life anyway?