I am steering clear of the radio today because I am positive my brain will explode from hearing R.E.M.’s “It’s the End of the World as We Know It”.  It’s probably on a loop on about 137,000 stations across the country, and I am not falling for it, dammit.  I’m not.  Although, the station Mr. Who and I woke up to this morning has a horrible and lazy practice of letting the listeners choose the songs, and whoever chose the 6:45 a.m. song must hate everyone in our area badly.  Worst. Song. Ever.  I don’t even know what it was, but it made “Gangnam Style”  Academy, Grammy, and Tony Award worthy.

So, the end of the world.  I think the majority of the population know the Mayan Calendar theory of the end of the world has been disproven, but you know there are a few people out there, holed up in a panic room under their houses eating Cheetos while looking around proudly at their stockpiled goods of toilet paper, bottled water and Hormel chili (hopefully with no beans). They are rubbing their cheesy, greasy hands gleefully while listening to the one or two radio stations not playing that damn song, waiting for the sounds of newscasters’ death screams.

They will be waiting for awhile.

Besides, if it’s the end of the world, won’t the world, well…end?  I mean, I always had the impression that if it were the end of the world, the earth itself would explode, implode, dematerialize, go through a wormhole, or be smooshed by that HUGE asteroid from “Armageddon” (I still get misty thinking about Bruce Willis dying at the end, and if you’re mad that I gave that ending away, he’s dead throughout “The Sixth Sense”, too, Mr. Angry “I Wait 15 years to see a Movie” Pants). The earth in general would just not be around anymore.  Gone. Finito. Kaplooey. Hasta la Bye Bye! It’s not like a select few people will still be here.  That would be “Left Behind”, you cannot get the Rapture and the End of the World confused.

It’s the end of the world, not the end of parts of the world.  Martians and Venutians and Jupiterians will be teaching their schoolchildren that there used to be 9 planets, then Pluto, like totally fell from grace, and then there were 8. Then Earth got creamed and now there are 7.  So all those poor alien children have to come up with yet another mnemonic (not the Keanu Reeves kind) device for the planets: “My Vaporous Mother Just Served Noodles of Udon”.  Hmmm.  Pluto will get back on the political bandwagon to be declared a planet again, you’ll see.

Hey!  So, it’s snowing where I live.  That in itself might be a sign! I live in northeast Ohio.  It’s 12/21/12 and except for one snowyish day so far, this is the most we’ve seen this year.  Ruh-Roh, Raggy!

For me, signs of the end of the world would be in the forms of the following: Browns winning the Superbowl, my teenager saying: “No, mom, I don’t want to play video games anymore, I would like to study hard and get all A’s”, my twins not whining or hitting each other for one day, a project going completely right for Mr. Who just once, and one day where I can get everything done I actually set my mind to.

That would be the end of the world, and I’d feel fine.

See what I did there?  Did you see?