(And if you read it backwards, it says “Yadsmood 2102.” Eerie, isn’t it?)
In a very Grinch-like move, the Mayans have chosen to ruin Christmas this year by predicting the end of the world. ACTUALLY, they didn’t predict the world ending–their day planner just got filled up. But if they’re right, Dec. 21 (which happens to ruin my Friday–and my weekend plans) will be the day we’re either a) hit by a rogue planet, b) forced to watch every episode of every Kardashian TV show, or c) made to bow down to our new president, BeZorg.
Luckily, our country has spent billions of dollars in space technology, telescopes and Transformers to protect our planet from boomeranging comets and intergalactic warfare. Plus, Bruce Willis has those sweet asteroid-exploding skills we could put to use. Soooooo, I think we’ll be okay.
(He’s either constipated, or seriously concerned about the fate of our planet.)
Doomsayers have predicted that a cloud of negative energy will engulf the solar system–causing terror and chaos. Guess what? That’s already happened. It’s called the GOP debates.
( Now, THESE suckers might destroy our planet even before December.)
Nostradamus has been given credit for predicting everything from the exile of Adam and Eve to the Katy Perry-Russell Brand divorce (but of course EVERYONE saw that one coming.) Was Nostradamus Mayan? Isn’t it true he predicted that Hollywood would fall into the sea, causing smeared mascara and a shortage of bad movies?
Anyway. I know the world won’t end this year because:
I just ordered a three-year subscription to O magazine. And you KNOW Oprah won’t let the world end before she’s ready to quit publishing.
I REALLY want to see the second season of “Revenge.” That Emily Thorne is a bitch. I want to be her.
(This is one classy, cold-hearted wench.)
I’d miss my crazy-ass dog, Ringo.
I have a lifetime supply of Turtle Wax I’m not even CLOSE to using up.
(Not as cool as a zombie apocalypse. . .but it will have to do.)