Does Corona mean Doomsday?

With all this Corona Virus stuff floating around there has been some talk around town. Some very scary chatter. They say it’s coming and will be here before we know it. I don’t want to alarm you but… the end of the world is just around the corner. I know. Isn’t it exciting?

The good thing is we have an almost possible maybe date, which is “someday soon.” The predicters are done given exact dates because the Mayan thing didn’t really work out. According to the Mayans, who supposedly kept the most accurate calendar in the history of man (even more accurate than the Quartzmen or the Timex tribe of Bolo) the end of the world was set at December 21, 2012. The Mayans claimed the earth would enter the region of space equilateral plane to the Milky Way Galaxy. Nobody knew what calamity would happen when we plunged into this highly energized plane. It was thought we could blow up, disintegrate or, God forbid, not be able to pick up FM radio stations. But we prepared for the worst by stocking up on bread, toilet paper and Twinkies. Then it happened. A great big nothing -- although there were unsubstantiated rumors that a firework exploded over Bismarck, South Dakota. Now, eight years later, amazingly, we’re still here. Booo. But, in their defense, they did give us a fun word to say... Chichen itza.

Since the beginning of time, people have always been claiming the world is going to end. Over the years, I have certainly heard a slew (or is it gaggle?) of preachers spreading the dire warnings. They say things like, we have angered God, and according to the scriptures we’ll all be dead by next Tuesday. Of course, the only way to prevent the impending doom is to give them money. After next Tuesday rolls around and we’ve only received a smattering of light showers, the preacher assures us that we pleased God with the money-giving. We become elated, only to find out from the preacher, a few months later, that God is pissed and, on a tear, again, looking to end the world if we don’t pony up one more time. Holy Moses, where’s my checkbook?

I’ve been through a rainstorm, black out, riot, hurricane and countless bad movies, but having never experienced the end of world, I haven’t a clue what to do. Should I pack? Turn down the thermostat? Cut the yard? Oh, and what do I wear? I don’t know what’s “in” in heaven. Khakis? Flip-flops? Tank tops? Oh my God, who would I get to feed my cats, Olaf and Musky? I guess I’ll just leave an extra full bowl of Frisky Bits, so they don’t eat each other. (There’s nothing more disgusting than cat-nibalism.) Let’s hope they understand the art of rationing.

I really wish I knew if this ‘end of the world’ thing is for real. I don’t know if my heart can handle another Y2K-type of let down. Was that a great excuse to party or what? We were all like princes partying like it was 1999. Folks were celebrating all around the world in hopes of a major computer meltdown that would surely bring at least one week off work and maybe more. It would be a helluva a vacation. The news hyped Y2K thing for a good year and… it never happened. That stuff makes me very leery of forecasts. I still have troubling memories of growing up back east, where the TV weatherman would tout an upcoming “blizzard of the century” then, come the next morning… nothing. Not even a flurry. School was still on and I was pissed. No, I didn’t do my homework. I trusted him. I trusted that stinking pudgy weatherman who I seriously doubt ever went to weather college.

Don’t act so surprised. You knew the day had to come. Nostradamus threw out a couple warning quadrant calls. He supposedly had a pretty good prediction batting average, certainly better than Miss Cleo who could guess your birthday by just holding your driver's license in her hand. Also, let’s not forget biblical prophecies. Can you say Revelations? Puts a little shiver in your boots, doesn’t it? If it doesn’t maybe you should slip on a pair of boots. We’re talking horsemen, plagues, earthquakes and famines, oh my! Can you say Armageddon? Only God knows what’s coming down the pike… and not because he’s has a Magic Eight ball, but because He’s God. Of course, the bible also says, no one knows the hour and day when these apocalyptic things will come to pass. You hear that Mayans? Stick with the pyramid building and Sun god sacrifices.   Your calendar missed. Mayans be lying’s.

I want to say goodbye to some people I’ve known, but I’m afraid. Who wants to look like the fool if nothing goes down? I guess I’ll be vague with those people and say something like, “Hey, if I don’t see you by next Friday, know that I love you and I’m still planning on returning your leaf blower.” The end of the world would also be a great excuse to patch things up with ones you’ve had a falling out with. “I just want you to know, I didn’t sleep with your wife on purpose. I forgive you for being angry with me.”

I really hope I’m around the day before the end of the world. Can you imagine how many people are going to be telling off their bosses? “You filthy pig, I quit. I’m tired of working my fingers to the bone for chump change and for that lame $20 gift card bonus to Pete’s Pet Grooming.” I know I’ll take advantage of those last days. I just wonder how many women will slap me. “Come on, Sugar Nose, nobody’s going to say you’re easy. They’ll all be dead tomorrow and so will you. Whatta ya say, kitten? One for the road…”

I wonder how it will all go down. Will the earth fall out of alignment and cause a destructive magnetic shift? I guess we’ll know if our refrigerator magnets suddenly fly off. Maybe we’ll be crushed by a gigantic asteroid. You’re sunbathing in the backyard and a big rock lands in your pool. It’s not pretty. Or, who knows, it could be a mammoth tidal wave. You’re looking out the kitchen window, and suddenly you see a wall of water rushing at you. The only two words you can mutter are, “What the --?” And let’s not forget the old stand-by of a nuclear war. I don’t trust the Chinese or the Iranians (but then again, I don’t trust anyone—I always hide my valuables when my mom stops by for a visit). I’ve always enjoyed a good firework show, so maybe a nuclear war might be kind of neat, except for the whole blisters-on-the-skin thing. (Keep calamine lotion in the medicine cabinet, just in case.) Maybe another virus? One that eats your flesh. It might be cool if that hit around Halloween. Look, whatever it is, I say enjoy the ride. I just hope that whatever happens, I’ll be in bed. I always feel safe in my bed — I can always hide under the covers. 

Call me a maverick, but the end of the world doesn’t seem so bad. No more waiting in traffic. No more robo-calls. No minute-by-minute updates on the latest actor or actress going to jail. No more cringing when you look through your daily mail stack. Could you imagine a bill-free afterlife? Wow, I’d be in heaven (I hope). Most importantly, I’ll bet there’s something good on TV in the here-after. Nobody could handle an eternity of the trash we have here on earth… nobody. I'm not going to say Khardashians, I'm just thinking it.

I’m not sure when the world is going to end, but I think there will be some signs. Things like, the Cleveland Browns winning a Super Bowl. Sitcoms are funny again. Donald Trump’s hair finally moves. The Jews and Palestinians gang up on the Swedes. Michael Moore is diagnosed with anorexia. Keanu Reeves gets an Oscar. Not knowing when the end will come probably might induce people to be good for a change. That’s why old people behave. You rarely see grandma carjacking or grandpa watching porno flicks. They want to get through those pearly gates, and time is limited to make an impression on The Judge… and that’s not Judy.

I’m actually looking forward to the End Times. Do you know how many women have told me they would only date me if the world was going to end? Well, I guess I’ll make some calls and set some dinner reservations. If only hell would freeze over, my dating schedule would be booked solid!

Maybe it is time to start fresh. Clean the slate. In all honesty, I think the human race needs a “do over” anyway. We have made way too many mistakes. Wars, pollution, crystal meth, the Macarena, New Kids on the Block, Paris Hilton movies, that Kate and John thing…oh, and the Pet Rock. What did that thing ever do?

So, get ready. Like Jim Morrison once slurred 50 years ago, “This is the end, my only friend. The end.”

~ Jeff Charlebois