We have just five and half years to go to what everyone from the ancient Maya to the late Terrence McKenna would seem to agree is going to be the absolute, unqualified, total, all-encompassing, full-on, no-one-here-gets-out-alive, Elvis-has-left-the-building, End Of Everthing. The theory is that, on December 12th, 2012, the full finality will fall upon us. The fat lady will sing and reality will simply cease. Even the numbers for December 12th, 2012 look really good and ominous. I mean…
12.21.12
…now doesn’t that have a ring to it? What William Blake called a fearful symmetry? As regular readers will have gathered by now, there’s nothing I like better than a good, old-fashioned looming catastrophe. Global calamity is good, but something promising to wink-out the complete known universe -- plus an infinite number of other dimensions as well -- into pure black nothingness really has to be the business. Even when the shit doesn’t happen, it can be a whole lotta fun. Who can forget the mass fear generated by the Nostradamus quatrain that suggested a serious nasty was going to come to pass in 1999 and seven months? Who doesn’t remember the paranoia conjured by Y2K, hey? And let’s not forget the merchandising!!!
So time to get moving brothers and sisters. If the squares find it beyond their capacity to muster so much as a simple lick of sense – fuck ‘em and the Administration they rode in on. If they refuse to act rationally, they wholly deserved to be zapped by a taser-shock of blind, uncontrollable mad-lemming panic.
Shall we get down to creating that mass panic? We have a whole five years to work on it.
(For those who need to bone up a bit on the background, this summation provides a suitably bizarre and impenetrable rundown on the whole 12.21.12 deal.)
The secret word is Trepidation
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8 comments:
Where do I sign up?
I thought you were English, Mick!
Surely it's 21 12 12.
And knowing the universe as I do, I'm sure the apocalypse will be late (just like buses; you wait forever and then two come along at the same time). I reckon it's a whole century away, making it 21 12 2112, which will have Rush fans everywhere baying with delight, no doubt.
Shame really, I'd love to witness the rupture [sic]. It might actually be a validation of my lifestyle.
I definitely wanna be there for The Rupture.
Me too, friend.
"We've got five years, stuck on my eyes
Five years, what a surprise
We've got five years, my brain hurts a lot!"
Bowie was right, or at least will be right in December. Hope his brain gets better.
Maybe poor David's brain hurts because he's stealing frin E.B. Gumby.
frin?
All our brains hurt. That's why we want to bug the squares with a bit of five-year terminal panic.
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