Dr. Peter Venkman: Well, you can believe Mr. Pecker...
Walter Peck: My name is "Peck."
Dr. Peter Venkman: Or you can accept the fact that this city is headed for a disaster of biblical proportions.
Mayor: What do you mean, "Biblical"?
Dr. Raymond Stantz: What he means is Old Testament, Mr. Mayor– real wrath-of-God type stuff! Fire and brimstone coming down from the sky! Rivers and seas boiling!
Dr. Egon Spengler: Forty years of darkness! Earthquakes, volcanoes...
Winston Zeddmore: The dead rising from the grave!
Dr. Peter Venkman: Human sacrifice! Dogs and cats living together! Mass hysteria!
Mayor: Enough! I get the point! And what if you're wrong? Ghostbusters 1984
To begin, let me first qualify that I am not subscribing to any religious fanaticism. I am skeptical of anyone who says they have found the revealed truth in an oft mis-translated translation of a translation. Let me also say that if you find comfort in your faith, by all means continue to do so, for it would be cruel of me to strip you of your comfort.
That being said, apparently some folks of the deeply religious persuasion seem to feel that the end of the world should be happening on May 21st. May 21st, 2011 to be exact; now in all seriousness, I do not…repeat, do not, believe that these folks have any veracity whatsoever. At best what they are doing is selectively reading something that was poorly translated from the original, doing some rather dubious calculations, and coming up with a solution to fit their interpretation.
Which leads me to the topic of our conversation: What if, two days hence, the world is in fact coming to an end? Maybe not the whole world, let’s just say “The End of The World as We Know It.” Our civilization will grind to a spectacular halt, consumed by a fiery flood, and by Sunday morning it will be all over. What do you do? There will be no chiseled, square-jawed heroes to save us, no super humans in spandex, we are doomed. Now what?
Do you spend your last few hours with those that you love? Do you make peace with all those who you have had “issues” with? Do you go out in a sybaritic festival of indulgence that would make Caligula blush? Or, as the clock runs out, do you grab your bug-out-bag, fuel up the four wheel drive and head for the hills, hoping to survive?