We have enough to worry about right now, so why do some people add to our woes by predicting that the end of the world is just around the corner? "Oh, the world's gonna end this year! I'm sure of it. Those old Mayans and their stone calendars must be right!" Really? We've got a political quagmire, our economy is in the toilet, and you want to add Doomsday to the mix? Well, I'm not having any of it. I'm too busy for the world to stop turning, and I know for a fact that it can't end right now, anyway. There are a few unfulfilled end-of-time prophecies, and as long as they haven't come true, your Mayan stone calendars can just go pound sand.
The first prophecy is "The Destruction of Mount Washmore - "In that dark room, on that wooden floor, you will see the pile of laundry that she calls Mount Washmore. On the day that the last sock is washed and the last pair of drawers is folded, then shall the world end, but not before." I can tell you that Mount Washmore is safe. I was just in the room, and there must be at least three feet of clothing in that pile. There are whites and plaids and blue jeans and socks galore. I don't think we have to worry about Mount Washmore ever being destroyed. I've come close a few times, but I always forget a bag of dirty clothes I had in my car or suitcase. Personally, I don't think there's enough detergent in the whole state to destroy Mount Washmore.
The second prophecy is "The Fixing of The Shower" - "Behold! The grout will gleam in a state of beauty, and the broken tile will be repaired, and nothing shall leak around the edges. On this day, the prophecy will be fulfilled, and the world will cease to be." We're safe here too. I dismantled that shower eons ago, and I'm still in a holding pattern on the repair. Even if I do fix it, the odds of it being leak-free are practically nil. And have you ever actually seen "gleaming" grout? Nah.
So, I'm not worrying about the world ending any time soon. Those dead Mayans may have their stone calendar, but I'm still alive, and I've got a pile of laundry and a leaking shower that tell me they're full of baloney.
David McCoy, a self-proclaimed Southern-Gentleman and Raconteur-in-Training lives in Covington with his family.