Look, the Mayans obviously weren’t able to foresee the downfall of their own civilization, so why should we think they could predict our own demise? Actually, I’m pretty sure they didn’t even have the wheel. I simply can’t believe that a race of people that had to drag shit from point A to point B could in any way know when the world was going to blow up. What blows my mind is the fact that the Mayan calendar is in the shape of a wheel, but none of them ever said “hey, if we turn that thing on its side instead of sacrificing virgins on it, we could have an ox cart or something”.
Furthermore, for the end of a calendar to be correct, the beginning of a calendar must be correct. The Mayans started their calendar 5126 years ago; that’s when they knew for a fact that mankind walked out of the underworld after being created by a lizard-like deity or something. Modern archeology has proven that we were around thousands of years prior to the beginning of the Mayan calendar, ergo, if what they knew to be true about the beginning was bullshit, so too is what they “knew” about how it’d all end.
It’s a bit arrogant to think that any civilization could divine an end date by reading the stars or figuring out the lunar calendar or observing the solstices. As a side note, it really should be “solsti”; there’s no point to these grammatical rules of plurality if we aren’t going to obey them. The fact is that this stoic universe of ours just doesn’t give a damn when it comes to convenient dates or round numbers. If there really is an end coming, if Armageddon really is a possibility, we’re all going to die on some random Tuesday that nobody, Nostradamus and that retarded lobster included, saw coming. It’s as if we as a species never figured out that whole tree falling in the woods thing. It really does make a noise, and that noise is in no way dependent upon man being there to hear it in his infinite awesomeness. Existence isn’t going to hand out some sort of prescient warning just so we can see it coming. Think about it.
I say all these things from the comfortable perch I have atop my own smugness, but maybe, just maybe, I bought a little extra ammo for my arsenal lately. I might have plans to stock up on canned food come December 20th. I might have thought about borrowing twenty dollars or so from a few friends the day before Mayan calendar ends; what could it hurt? In truth, I’m just a bit envious of all those crazy-ass “preppers” that have stockpiled huge amounts of whatever for when the shit hits the fan. Have you seen that show? All those crazies have one thing in common; morbid obesity. Sure, they have enough canned bacon to survive a nuclear winter that might never happen, but what are they going to do when that coronary comes knocking in two years max? Those five thousand rolls of toilet paper in the basement aren’t going to do a damn thing for diabetes.
We’re all flockers; there’s no use in denying it. We form little herds of cars on the freeway when there’s plenty of open road to go around. We complain about the dude riding our ass and the minivan that won’t move over when in reality, we’re just more comfortable driving in little groups. We’re genetically predisposed to suffer from mob mentality. If some stranger starts believing something and shouts about it loudly enough, every one of us will at least consider his opinion, and if there’s a neat little conspiracy theory tied into it, like a mystical race of man that mysteriously vanished long ago, shit-tons of people will invariably hop on the doomsday bandwagon. (P.S. the “doomsday bandwagon” is a short bus covered in camo paint and driven by Ted Nugent).
There’s something intoxicating, enticing even, surrounding the possibility of an end of days, right? Anarchy offers equalization of a sort to many, especially those of us suffering from mediocrity. There are plenty of gung-ho dumbasses out there that are not so secretly hoping that they Mayans were right. I’ve seen a few army surplus stores around my shitty little town that are actually having sales and advertising “12/21/12” warnings. Rednecks in camo are buying cases of ammo and MRE’s by the truck load all the while wearing that “those yuppies are gunna be sorry” expression on their faces. And for the record, camouflage pants only work in the forest; when you wear them downtown, they just highlight the fact that you’re an asshole.
Again, I talk a good game but I might be a bit of a hypocrite. I was walking through the streets of downtown Durango, Colorado recently when my family and I were assaulted by a heard of about two-thousand Christmas carolers. They were walking in the opposite direction and wearing puffy down coats and bemused smiles and twirling glow-sticks. So what did we do? Me and my family changed our direction and melted into the crowd. Boom, my flocking gene kicked in and I started singing “we wish you a merry Christmas” even though on any other day I’d scoff at the idea. I even started worrying that someone might notice that I didn’t have a glow-stick. Who knows, if those same carolers had been running in a panic towards an army surplus store to stock up on explosive camouflage toilet paper, who’s to say that I wouldn’t have ran with them?