This is Jake. Raised by handsome wolves, Jake is an award-winning journalist and wild-mannered partygoer who likes to write.

If The World Ends Tomorrow: My Thoughts & Concerns

I've been wrong about a lot of things in life. Like...A LOT of things.

But I've never ever been wrong about a rapture. Mostly because I've never predicted one. And I've never supported one. The only rapture I kind of like is the band and even they sort of get on my nerves.

So, it's made the news that, according to Harold Camping, president of the Family Radio Christian Network, and his followers, the world is supposed to end tomorrow (around 6 p.m., from what I understand). For all I know, it will. How the shit would I know? Everybody's making assumptions here. My guess is that it won't, but don't quote me on it, because I want to keep my record on not being wrong about raptures spotless. I just feel bad for those who give a specific day about the end of the world. They don't seem to get the enormity of what they're claiming.

Because how pissed are people going to be on Sunday morning?

I'll tell you: REALLY pissed.

If the world's truly ending tomorrow, tonight should be goddamn lunacy. Over the years, I've only really gone to church for weddings, funerals and the occasional mixer, so I'm almost certain I'm not allowed on the glowing escalator and, if that's the case, I may be prepared for dealing in the gnar and gettin' hectic on the world. If I was convinced these were my last days, I'd go for broke in every sense of the word (spending all my money and breaking things). Then Sunday comes and I apparently don't have to cross a lake of lava to get to my car? How mad would I be now that it turns out I still have my whole life ahead of me in the suburbs, except now with a body full of heavy drugs and STDs? Look, I don't know how buckwild everybody's gonna get in their last days. This is all just speculation.

Of course, this is all if I took Harold Camping's word about the rapture, which I don't, since I guess he blew it pretty bad in September and October 1994 (he had a set date as well as a back-up date). Also, I don't trust anybody with an active verb for a last name.

On Sunday morning, what if people walk up the guys with the apocalypse signs and say, "Hey. So...what the hell, man? What do I do now? You told me that yesterday was the day. I did a lot of terrible things last night. Look at all this blood on my clothes. How am I going to explain this to my wife who went to a freaky sex party last night? You screwed me, bro."

The rapture is not a picnic. I know enough about the Bible to at least be aware of that. It's not some, "oh hey, if you're not doing anything Saturday, we should bike ride to the beach and eat on the pier." NO. The rapture is the end-all. The month before the rapture (that I would hypothetically believe in), I would probably free-for-all everything that usually has consequences. I'd take up heroin and prostitutes, for sure. Why wouldn't I? I mean, that's not my usual prerogative, just so we're clear. Not even close. I'm usually about basketball and vermicelli bowls. Stuff like that. You know, books and beer. Those sorts of things. But, really, if it's my last month on the Earth I know, appreciate and take care of here and there, I'm going out with a bang. Literally. I will probably procure a firearm of some sort. Why? Hey, here's a better question: why not? It's the freakin' rapture, man.

So, no, the rapture is not a picnic. It's a life-changing event. Yeah, my wedding day will probably be important. So will the birth of my first born. But the rapture? That's, like, crazy huge. That's not something you go at willy-nilly. And if you're wandering around the city with signs, just to grab some attention from the patrons of Starbucks, there reworking the first scene of a script they probably won't finish, then, come on, man, you need a new hobby. In fact, you should be the one writing a movie! You obviously have a cooler imagination than everybody else!

Raptures aren't for yokels, and claiming it is even wilder. This shit's serious. You're telling everyone that everything they know will end. EVERYTHING. All the celebrities you love, all the politicians that decide things, all of your stupid tasks like getting gas and buying groceries, every book and movie that exists, airplanes, trains, ships, oceans, mountains, cities, towns, rockets, fucking...EVERYTHING will no longer be. And if you believe that, if you honestly believe that's going down tomorrow, WHY ARE YOU HANGING OUTSIDE OF MALLS TELLING PEOPLE THIS? YOU SHOULD BE AT HOME WITH YOUR LOVED ONES MAKING FAJITAS AND PLAYING BOARD GAMES. OR YOU SHOULD BE PICKING UP FOOD FROM YOUR FAVORITE RESTAURANTS BEFORE CALLING EVERY PERSON YOU'VE EVER WRONGED AND TELLING THEM THAT YOU'RE SORRY. MAYBE YOU SHOULD BE IN YOUR LIVING ROOM, LOOKING THROUGH EVERY PHOTOGRAPH YOU HAVE AND CRYING UNTIL YOUR EYES SOUND LIKE A GAS LEAK. IT SHOULD BE FUCKING TEAR GAS COMING OUT OF YOUR FACE. YOU SHOULD BE OUT OF TEARS.


And, shit, if you really believe the world ends tomorrow, how are you taking it so well? Because you'll be lifted? Dude, not everyone you know is going to Heaven. Some of your buddies at the bowling alley, some of your ex-girlfriends that you stayed on good terms with, even some of your relatives with their condescending tones that you still kind of like seeing at sporadic holidays (though you never send them a birthday card), they're all doomed and not coming with you. You will miss them. You will miss them tremendously. You should be calling them. You should be giving them some goddamn tips about how to walk the new world of fire that they're left with while you drink white wine in a toga for eternity! People left on Earth are so screwed, man! While you're at your afterlife dinner party, filled with finger foods and pale confetti, chatting up Mark Twain and beating the shit out of Abraham Lincoln at foozball with Jimmy Stewart on your team, your heathen friends are going to be walking a planet that will mostly look like the Australian outback in a century after the Ozone layer has caught fire and exploded (I don't understand global warming, so, to me, that scenario is just as likely as the rapture happening on Saturday...yes, I ignore religion AND science).

The point is, if you really, honestly, truly believe the world is ending tomorrow, why are you wearing such dumb shirts and not a tuxedo? Go out in style, guy. I guess they don't have tye-dye in Heaven (as I assume it's mostly white and ivory mixes), so, if that's your reason, go for it, I suppose. Get out your last hoorah of clothing with colors. But you shouldn't be out here telling me and everybody else to repent. You've already got your one-way ticket. You don't need to do any more saving. You should be at home watching a marathon of Disney cartoons and eating a dozen plates of nachos with people you can't get enough of. Don't waste your time on everyone else! This is a time to relax!

Also, how are you able to relax right now? Don't you have a crazy amount of anxiety? I couldn't deal with that kind of pressure. You're about to go on an eternal trip, man! You should probably have some knots in your stomach to unwrap! What should you bring? Should you even bring anything? Will they provide shoes at the gates or should you bring a nicer pair? Should you buy new shoes? If so, tennis shoes or dress shoes? Can you be overdressed for the afterlife? Could you be underdressed? These are major concerns you should be having, since your decision affects you for, oh, I don't know, for-fucking-ever.

Why are you not at least stocking up on clean underwear? Macy's should be out of underwear right now. Vons should be out of toothpaste. CVS should be sold out of motion sickness pills. These are things that everyone person planning to leave Earth tomorrow should have an eternal supply of. Sure, it's probably a safe assumption that Heaven will provide all of your toiletries, but even the nicest hotels don't always leave mints on your pillow. It's a risky move. At least bring a backpack, for Christ's sake! I mean...Christ will probably want a snack or something. And then you have to figure out what He would want! Corn Nuts seem like a solid choice, but which flavor? Is chile picante too spicy? Is original too boring? Ugh. Everyone planning to abandon this planet tomorrow should be experiencing multiple aneurysms, just trying to figure their shit out.

All I'm saying is be prepared and spend your closing hours with people you love. This isn't a time to tell some lost soul on his way to Panda Express that he should be at home getting ready for the rapture. THAT'S WHAT YOU SHOULD BE DOING. GET THE FUCK HOME AND BE READY FOR THE END OF THE WORLD, DUDE.

And, if the rapture doesn't come tomorrow, then I'd just stay home on Sunday, man. If there's one day to stay home from church, it's the day after the rapture didn't come when you promised it would and you looked like an asshole. Get your shit together. Literally. You're leaving soon.

Ah well.

Good luck out there, everybody!

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