On the End of the World
On the occasion of Nibiru's re-re-re-re-re-re-appearance, I re-post this essay written on December 12, 2012. It also comes from a happier time when Carrie Fischer was still with us. Read it quick before it's too late!
True story: when I was 11 years old I desperately tried to build a spaceship in my garage. While it is true that every 11 year old would love to own a spaceship, I had a very particular motivation. I had watched a documentary introducing me to Nostradamus and his prediction that the world would end in May of 1982. And it scared the crap out of me.
Desiring to live beyond those few remaining years, I hatched my plan to create a spaceship big enough to hold me, my family, my friends, and my favorite movie stars. The plan was to orbit the earth for a while and then, when the crisis was finished we would land, where upon Carrie Fisher and I would, um, repopulate the planet. Great plan.
Fortunately, the world didn't end because I never finished building my ship and the work I did complete was made mostly of balsa wood, which, I've since come to learn, would likely not have survived the temperatures of reentry. Some good came of this adventure. I learned a lot about Newton's laws of motion, astronomy, engineering and the like. I also learned that disasters don't happen just because people say they will. This was reinforced in the 90's when it became obvious the Soviets weren't going to blow me to hell, in 2000 when computers didn't make planes fall from the sky, and in 2010 when I failed to get raptured.
So, when people tell you that the sky is falling because of rogue planets, grand conjunctions, solar flares, vaccinations, fluoridation, global warming, over population, Vorgon poetry, or mail fraud, take a deep breath and remember, there is room in my spaceship for all of you! Oh, please forward this to Carrie Fisher, thanks.