The end is coming, I tell you, and it’s just around the corner.
Last May, after Harold Camping’s Revelation fizzled out, he held a special press conference on his religious channel and explained away his miscalculation by saying that the Rapture did in fact occur, but it was a metaphorical Rapture and that the second part of his prophecy would, no doubt about it, be Oct. 21.
Since I hadn’t heard an update from Camping, I did a quick Google search and discovered that he is still recovering from a stroke that felled him a month after the “Rapture,” so he hasn’t been prophesying much.
Thankfully, I’ve been keeping track, and the end is here, one whole week from today. The big bang (no, not the CBS series, but the real shebang bang) is on the way. Fire in the sky, earth a tremble, the godly will be assumed (you know what Ashton Kutcher says about assumptions) into heaven and leaving the unsaved behind to suffer unbelievable pain and anguish before being thrown into the bottomless pit with you-know-who.
So, I’m writing this week anticipating that by next week, no matter what I say, won’t amount to a hill of beans, on account of most of us will be falling into the bottomless pit. Not that what I say today amounts to a hill of beans either, but you get the drift.
Now, I don’t necessarily agree with Mr. Camping. In fact, I think that Harold Camping is a few buffalo wings shy of an Applebee’s combination plate, but there have been some very ominous signs that the end isn’t too far off.
Here’s my top-10 list in support of the grand finale:
• I balanced my check book. An event which has not occurred since 1983.
• I was able to successfully budget the household account without dipping into the break-the-glass-in-case-of-emergency fund, or searching for change under the couch cushions.
• My husband recently emptied the bottom of the dish washer, by himself without any nagging. Unprecedented in all our years of wedded bliss.
• An entire week passed without one invoice, bill or utility charge coming in the mail.
• One solid week without any automotive problems with my Ford Escape. That’s a signal if ever there was one.
• I met my deadline for this column.
• Paris Hilton didn’t make it into the gossip pages all week.
• I sat through and enjoyed an entire episode of “The Big Bang Theory” without one interruption, phone call or trip to the bathroom.
• I completed a New York Magazine crossword puzzle without looking up answers on the Internet.
And the number one sign that the end is knocking on the door:
• My daughter not only called me upon arrival and departure from her many destinations, but she met her curfew every night. Now that’s surely a sign.
Harold Camping based his predictions on biblical calculations, and we all know how well that worked. But I have my sources and, Not for Nuthin, I trust mine a whole lot more than his.