It's The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)

Tomorrow it all comes to and end.  I wanted to learn how to play the piano, but alas, it isn’t to be.

Instead, I’ll just be sowing around in my PJs awaiting the torment god created for failing to do what the brain he gave me is incapable of doing: believing the absurd.  I can no more make myself believe somebody rose from the dead than I can make myself believe gravity doesn’t work.

I’ll spend most of my last day at my job promoting a secular world (god’s gonna be miffed about that one).  I have plans to go to a dance concert tomorrow night, but I’ll instead be dancing a jig in hell (with all of you fine people).

I actually can’t see this as being a terrible thing.  My vision of Satan being cast out of heaven usually involves him being in the workshop while god is creating everything, looking over the LORD’s shoulder and saying “Cancer?  Really?  I mean, it’s your sandbox and everything, but do we really need to make cancer?”  And god gets all butt-hurt and sends him down to hell.  Frankly, that’s where I want to be.  I want to chill for eternity with the guy who thought cancer was a bad idea.

Anyway, I’ll be tweeting my demise tomorrow with the hashtag #RaptureDay.

How do you plan to spend your last day on earth?  If, by some long shot, the world doesn’t end tomorrow, how will you celebrate this weekend?

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