Da-da's had enough. Some kids on a playground told Da-da's oldest that the world was ending soon, and that nothing mattered anymore, so why do anything your parents or teachers say? They invariably synthesized this nonsense from phlogiston their parents (who should know better) were slinging. So. Let's get this over with.
Historically, there have been an untold number of schmoops (schmoe-groups) who have camped out beneath smoking volcanoes, or the bases of hills populated by bloodthirsty bandits, or "sleeping" in bunkbeds awaiting a comet, or shacked up with millennial fever... the schmoops' common denominator the anticipation of the END OF THE WORLD, which never seems to transpire according to anyone's schedule. Alas, the Insane Vending Machine that's calling the illusory historical shots wants you to be afraid 24/7/365, as it adores unpleasant surprises and lowering the boom, so it would never give you advance warning; it just keeps on delivering cheap shots, usually early in the morning when you're stretching and having that first cup of coffee, or while you're in bed all warm and toasty. Suffice to say that whatever terrible catastrophes await the Once and Future Schmoops are going to be complete surprises, followed by three-inch headlines.
Therefore, using Da-da's Adamantine Logic-log of Friendly Advice-ity, Da-da can say with great authority that absolutely nothing will happen on December 21st, 2012... except maybe the horror that is fighting total strangers for the latest Ben 10 Ultimate Alien Bathroom Fixture or that puce muffler for grandma. Sure, you'll sweat and tighten those sphincter muscles those last few days before Christmas, no matter how much sense Da-da makes... or doesn't make... that little fish in the back of your mind taking the doomsday bait, then spitting it back out.
There's one question, one that Da-da consistently asks of many schmoop reps after the world fails to end for them (Cold War Apocalypse, Y2K, Hale-Bopp, 9/11, the recent Rapture-FAIL, etc.): what are you gonna do with your life when the world fails to end in a Mayan 2012 Apocalypse of Doom, like when it failed to end all the other times? Anyone? Buehler? What will you do with your life? Whatever you do, try hard not to give the fear a new coat of paint and a new deadline (PLEASE STOP), or it'll be yet another self-fulfilling prophecy clean-up on aisle nine again and again till that volcano blows the comet into the thing and the boom and the bing.
Newsflash: the world will one day end -- officially in about 5 billion years when the sun expands into a red giant into the orbit of Mars. In the meantime... what, Da-da worry? Howbout if we all band together and take a thousand year sabbatical from fear and, well... smile after the ellipsis and get some coffee and try not to take everything so seriously.
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