I'm writing this column on Monday afternoon, nearly a week before it will reach your eyes (or eye, Cyclops), so I'm guessing that by the time this is read, one of two things has happened:
A) Israel and Palestine successfully ignited World War III, and we all got blowed up real good with some nuclear bombs.
B) You got a pretty sweet deal on a flat-screen TV.
If Scenario A occurred, all I can say is — Kansas called it. Not the state, but the band. All we are is dust in the wind and whatever copies of Vanilla Ice's "To the Extreme" survived the blasts in a landfill.
If Scenario B occurred, I hope you are putting your television to good work watching a nature documentary or something otherwise enlightening and not a marathon of Honey Boo Boo (which, I can only assume, does not benefit from high definition). But either way, mankind is probably doomed, and if Scenario A hasn't occurred yet, it will soon enough.
As of Thanksgiving Day, there is less than one calendar month left before the predicted Mayan apocalypse. What this will entail is anyone's guess. Nuclear war.
Zombies. Robots. Aliens.
Alien robots. Robot zombies. Dinosaurs. The same Taylor Swift song stuck on repeat forever-ever-ever-ever-ever-ever-ever-ever ...
People are preparing for the worst. Many are scrambling to check items off their "Apoca-List" — a list of things to do before having your face eaten by a zombie — while others are busying themselves by hoarding survival essentials.
Have you prepared your Apocalypse Survival Kit?
Pop quiz, class. Which item does not belong in your Apocalypse Survival Kit: guns, ammunition, samurai sword, ham radio, bottled water, first-aid kit or your signed Justin Bieber tour poster?
(Trick question — the correct answer is the tour poster AND the first-aid kit. First aid has no place in a post-apocalyptic zombie scenario. If you get bit, the only first aid you're getting from me is a bullet. And I expect you will return the courtesy.)
To meet consumer demand for last-minute survival shopping, Wal-Mart and other popular retailers opened their stores for Black Friday sales on Thursday night, a date their employees later informed them also happened to be Thanksgiving.
There were either massive protests from the workers or there weren't. I can't see the future, but I'm willing to bet that no matter what, some cougar burned off her Thanksgiving dinner boxing out senior citizens for a $50 Blu-ray player.
I wasn't there, however, because I am not doing any Christmas shopping this year, as per the scheduled Mayan apocalypse on Dec. 21. (In the event that the apocalypse does not occur, this will leave me three shopping days until Christmas — or roughly the same amount of time as usual.) Instead of buying Christmas presents, I am putting the money toward completing my Apoca-list.
Things included on said list:
1) Drive my car through the grocery store, crash into the bakery and eat as many doughnuts as I can before the authorities show up.
2) Paraglide with Bigfoot (naked).
3) Paralegal for Bigfoot (semi-naked).
4) Master a foreign language.
5) Lose a Wrestlemania I was scripted to win.
6) Divorce a Bond girl (preferably, of the last 20 years).
7) Avoid my wife's incoming karate chop. (STATUS: Failed.)
8) Max out my credit cards.
9) Record a duet with Seal. Outshine Seal. Become the new Seal.
10) Finish watching "The Wire."
So far I have only managed to check off No. 2 and the first part of No. 9. (Bigfoot introduced me to Seal; go figure.) With less than a month left before the proverbial feces collides with the electric wind maker machine, I am beginning to worry that I will not complete my list.
To make matters somewhat worse, it appears I will also be unable to rely on Twinkie snack cakes for nourishment during the End of Days. After Hostess announced that it was shuttering its business, boxes of Twinkies could be found on eBay priced at more than $10 million. What mixture of fat, rich and desperate would you have to be in order to purchase a million-dollar Twinkie? Only time, and the Internet, will tell.
Twinkies — which have a half-life of 600,000 years — would be the ideal apocalypse food, and are the only things on Earth, besides the cockroach, guaranteed to withstand nuclear fallout.
Which brings up an important point: Is the apocalypse even worth surviving if you're going to have to share the planet with a bunch of radioactive cockroaches suffering from Twinkie withdrawal?
Things to think about as we approach the end of existence.
Ryan Jackson will henceforth only answer to the name Seal II: Seal Harder, and he can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.