There’s a saying … or more a theoretical question: If a tree falls in the woods and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound? Well, if the world comes to an end and a column is written, will anyone read it?
I would like to make a plea to my Mayan friends; I have so much to live for, and so many things I would like to do. Please spare the rest of this planet the terrible, terrible demise of Armageddon. Sure, my wife may have lived out her lifelong dream to see Elton John live, but this isn’t about her. This is about me not ever seeing that long-awaited Led Zeppelin reunion. Sure, Robert Plant turned down a hundred million dollars and John Bonham is no longer around, but even they must see the gravity of the situation.
I want to go base-jumping. I have never — ever — gone fishing before. I would like to do that. I would also like to win my Best Director Oscar … presented by Steven Spielberg, of course. Mayan calendar, why must you be so cruel to me? Don’t you know that I still have a Rage Against the Machine cover band I want to front? I guess my fate is to sleep now in the fire. Bah.
I want to go running with the bulls in Spain — or at least cringe (and possibly laugh) at those who take part. How glorious it would be for me to train only to pass out for the Boston Marathon? I wanted to go skydiving only to wuss out in the end. Now, that cowardice is only a dream. There are jazz festivals in Chicago, New Orleans, Paris and New York that I still need to attend. Not in Montreal, though. Actually, Mayans — you can have Montreal. Please.
I still have a film festival to grow in Lima — perhaps shake Hugh Downs’ hand and give him a Lifetime Achievement Award. I want to see the next generation of filmmakers blow the minds of their audience away. I will never meet heroes like Neil deGrasse Tyson, Maya Angelou and Ric Flair. Are you crazy Mayans telling me I will never shake Vince McMahon’s hand? This is a tragedy, man. I would like to take my wife to Jamaica and actually enjoy our time there.
I still have not been able to master all the sexy languages: Spanish, French and Italian. I will never make the much-anticipated trip to Amsterdam. I wanted to learn to rhumba and tango and krump. I really wanted to perfect time-travel and teleportation so I would not have to make the trip from Rockford to Lima when I am needed. I learned all I needed to know from David Cronenburg; no Brundle-Lenny for this world. That makes me a very sad panda. What makes me even sadder? I will never own that Jaguar XJ-220 that I have wanted since I was 6 years old.
Oh, you Maya — with your b’aktun and Tzolk’in and insane mathematical equations that scared even Stephen Hawking away. I would think a “long count” would just be counting sheep to infinity. This makes no sense. Why would you ruin so many perfectly acceptable lives? Don’t you know we have a fiscal cliff to go over? We had a new Star Wars movie to look forward to in 2015. How dare you deny Hollywood the chance to wash the taste of Jar-Jar Binks out of our mouths!
How about this? I will offer up to your Lords of the Night my Atari 2600 and Nintendo NES if you would spare humanity at least long enough for me to live out my dreams. Jessica Alba is not even aware that I am stalking her (in my mind.) Perhaps, if Xiuhtecuhtli saw a picture of her, (or Halle Berry) he would understand why so many would like for this beautiful world to continue.
I await your response. If you spare us, all I ask is that I take all the credit for saving humanity. But then again, if the world is over by the time this is published, I suppose it is all for naught.