Waiting for the End of the World

by Trevor Seigler

If you’re like me and the last time you went to church they were giving out free “Impeach Billary” bumper stickers, you’ve probably tuned in to the various Sunday morning services or occasional Trinity Broadcast Network fund raisers to see what you’re missing out on, Jesus-wise. And if you’ve tuned in recently, you know that we’re all screwed.

Don’t laugh, unbelievers; according to reputable preachers like Oral Robert’s creepy sons Creflo Dollar, Benny Hinn, and Kirk Cameron, the end of the world is nigh. What’s more, it’s likely to happen any day. Like, today even! And if you’re not cool with God, you’ll be cast into the eternal lake of fire. Otherwise known as downtown Sandusky, Ohio.

And no one gets out of Sandusky alive…

But what to do, my fellow sinners? Praying is right out, you’ve all forgotten how to do it. And no, the last time you asked God, Allah, Buddha, and all the gods of Hinduism (just to cover your bases, you may have thrown Satan into the mix) for help on your last research paper doesn’t count. It’s not His fault that you got that C-.

Conversion back to Christianity at the last minute won’t cut it either. I get the impression from Megiddo: The Omega Code 2 that the world will be ensnared by an over-the-top Michael York as their new savior, so by the time you join back into the fold the fold will have used some really bad CGI effects to show it’s actually a front for the Anti-Christ. And the health insurance package will be crap.

Other religions are nice, if you’ve got the time to devote to them. But if you get lazy, you could always create your own. I’ve started the Church of Sarah Vowell, but I doubt a witty and acerbic commentator on modern American life will suffice when you get to the Pearly Gates. Still, have you read Take the Cannoli? It’s way better than the Bible.

The truth is, there’s not much you can do to prepare for the end of the world. Folks have been trading in on the idea of “it could all end tomorrow” for as long as there’s been a today, or a tomorrow, or a Today Show. In fact, I’m sure they’ll have Richard Simmons on this morning, making fat people feel bad about themselves while strutting about in spangled Spandex. If that’s not a sign of the end of days, I don’t know what is.

Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that Kirk Cameron is onto something (other than the fact that his old show actually featured a character named “Boner,” he’s led a reputable existence since at least 1988). Let’s say that we’re in the end of days, that the tsunami, the war in Iraq, and the cancellation of Arrested Development while According to Jim continues its assault on unsuspecting viewers are all signs of the impending apocalypse. Why are the preachers so damn happy about it?

Sure, it means they’ll go to heaven, where they can finally be free to snort as much coke and sleep with as many young men as they would have liked to while they were on Earth, if not for the dearth in hotel employees all over America who can’t keep their mouths shut if they know what’s good for ‘em. But for the rest of us, it just means endless event that can’t be stopped, like natural disasters, accidents of man, and Celine Dion. And that’s a pretty grim portent of things to come.

But look on the bright side, when the earth is engulfed in fire and brimstone and there is much wailing and gnashing of teeth, you have a legitimate excuse not to go to work that day. Plus, it gives you time to square things with people to whom you owe a debt of something. I’ll go ahead and start, feel free to chime in anytime you think you’ve got something you need to get off your chest.

To all the girls I’ve loved before (who, for legal reasons, shall be referred to as Beth H., Brooke H., Becky R., Joanne J., Bonnie M., Nicole P. and Angelina J.), I’m sorry that I either let you down or lived up exactly to whatever you thought I’d be. And Angelina, honey, if it doesn’t work out with Brad…you’ve still got my number, right? It’s in the book.

To all my bosses (who, for legal reasons, shall be referred to as Larry W., Larry S., and Johnny E., but not Jeremy B. because he can claim he’s “co-manager” all he wants but he’s just the assistant to the manager as far as I can see), I guess I wasn’t that good of an employee. But that’s what you get by hiring a registered pyromaniac.

To all my friends, who shall remain nameless because I’m not sure I really have any, I think it’s time you paid me back for all the hours of time we spent together pretending to get along. I’ve rounded it up to about $0.12 cents each, but I have over five million friends. So pay up.

And finally, to all the people who I may have offended over the years: Fuck off. Get bent. I said what I said, I know what I said, and it’s your problem if you can’t deal with it.

Well, I’m glad I got that off my chest…the end of the world can come anytime now and I’ll be good…yep, no rush but I really could use it now…I’ve cleared my schedule for this…it’s not happening, is it? Shit, now I have to go to the Salvation Army and get all my stuff back. Because I didn’t think I’d need a DVD player, my clothes, or my family anymore.

Boy, is my family going to be pissed…