The End is Near

Saturday, to be precise. I'm going way out on a limb here, but I'm overdue for a rant, and I think this deserves one.

If I weren't weird enough already, I started listening to late night talk radio a couple years ago. I had a severe case of insomnia, and it turned out that Coast to Coast AM was my personal panacea. I've blogged about some of the strangeness I hear at night, but I'll try to stay on track and focus on the hottest topic at the moment.

Impending doom. As in, we have three days left until Armageddon. Or Rapture. Depending on our whether our name's written in the Book of Life. If you're in, or not sure, you should know that pets aren't included. So check this:

I wonder if it's too late for me to get in on this action. It could be extremely lucrative.

Despite the fact that I was saved not once, but twice, when I was a fearful child, I'm still not sure whether I'll be in the chosen few. I remember once, walking downstairs, and I saw neither hide nor hair of any of the other five members of my family. My first thought was that I'd been left behind. I looked for empty clothes on the floor.

That shows you how fuckin' brainwashed and fucked up I was.

I could vent my spleen about manipulative mother-fuckers who scare the bejesus out of innocent children. So perverse. I'll give you one colorful example and I'll leave it at that. I was on a youth retreat at some primitive cabin with no heat or indoor plumbing, deprived of adequate amounts of sleep (classic cult techniques). We had our indoctrination session late that night. The leader made us close our eyes while he chastised us for our sinful natures. I swear, I am not making this up. He told us to raise our hands if we had ever masturbated. I swear, I wish I had opened my eyes and looked around. But I was too afraid. Was I the only one stupid and naive enough to raise my hand? All I remember was that my face was burning and I felt so ashamed. In retrospect, I'm sure the freak was getting off on it. Had a great time spanking his monkey in his well-appointed cabin that night, I'm sure.

I could tell lots more crazy stories, but this one has exhausted me. I think I'll wrap it up and go jill off. Double click the mouse. Diddle the skittle. Damn, I love UrbanDictionary. I really hate to be so crude, but somehow it's cathartic. Interestingly enough, the UD word of the day is "Apocalypse Sex." Self-explanatory. Too bad FF is so far away. Call me old-fashioned, but I'm not interested in anyone else. Brad Pitt could show up at my door and I'd send him on his way. I never cared for pretty boys, though. Especially blonde ones. So if you're reading this, Dude, don't get a big head.

Maybe I'll just go max out my credit card, try some recreational drugs, bungee jump from the bridge over the swollen Mighty Mississipp. I'd need the drugs to do that. I could drive to Little Rock and beat the shit out of the Bitch from Hell. Call the FBI and report each and every Desoto County Redneck Relative of hate-crimes. Actually, one of them was fired from FedEx for racial discrimination. Imagine that.

So here's the deal, according to my extensive research at 3:00 this morning. Saturday's the rapture. The tribulation will last five months. Until October 21st. Then the world will be destroyed by fire. If you're afraid of the Trib, there are suicide kits for sale on the internet. Buy one for your pet, too.

I have a couple friends who are self-proclaimed athiests. I tell them to just be agnostics. Because, really, how can we know?

But then, I'm a member of the Church of IDGAF. We have our own political party, too. We mix church and state. So sue us.

For now, I'll plan to be here Sunday. So I'm gonna go put The D's chicken pot pie in the oven.