Remember Harold Camping? He’s the old coot that told us the world would end on May 21 of this year, and then when it didn’t, he probably cried in a closet somewhere, then wiped his tears, made some manly “mean” faces in the mirror and somehow found the balls to come out of hiding to declare he was mistaken, and that the world would actually be ending on October 21st of 2011?
Of course you remember that guy!
Yeah, well, today is October 21st of 2011.
Burn in Hell, Harold, you fear-mongering idiot.
It’s been 5-months since Harold’s confidence cracked just a little bit before releasing self-sealing fluids and polymers that closed the crack tighter than it had ever been before, so one has to wonder how Harold spent that time. Was he praying? Was he readying his survival shelter for the coming apocalypse? Who knows what he’s truly been up to, but we like to imagine every waking moment of Harold’s life since May 21st has been jam packed with scheming and plotting as he attempted to figure out how to end the world himself so he doesn’t look like a tool like he did last time.
Everyday Harold would wake up at the crack of dawn and dig a hole to the earth’s core. His goal? Move some tectonic plates and cause an earthquake himself. With his hands.
For one hour every day, Harold pretended to be very angry with God, and then dared him – dared God, Himself – to prove he’s a man by wiping out most, if not all, of human life on earth.
For a short while Harold looked in to the economic feasibly of constructing an evil lair in the side of a mountain and purchasing a large tidal wave-disrupting laser and mounting it on the moon. It was out of his price range.
I like to think Harold put a lot of time and effort in to destroying the world, like a comic book super villain out to prove his worth. And as you can tell when you look out your window and don’t see angles carrying souls off to heaven and Satan’s anus absorbing the souls of the wicked things didn’t pan out the way Harold had hoped.
Sorry, Harold. We’re all still here and we’re all still alive. And that’s probably driving you insane. That alone makes me so smile so hard that if the world ended tomorrow I would die happy.
Hey, wait a second. Harold, tomorrow’s another day. Care to make a prediction?