It's the end of the world as we know it. And I feel fine. Truly, I do. I had my hair colored today, to cover up those persistent grays. Look, if I'm going to see Madonna, The Countess LuAnn, Mel Gibson, Jodie Foster, her Beaver, Lady Gaga and all the gays in purgatory, I want to make sure I'm at my best. What does one wear to one's first Rapture debut? Bet you twenty bucks that LuAnn is back on good terms with Ungaro by now, and will be wearing something similar to Ramona, but not too similar.
All of this talk of the rapture has my head spinning. How can so many people believe this nutterbutter? He looks an awful lot like Orville Redenbacher. I wouldn't trust him to accurately predict the proper popping time for microwave popcorn, let alone predict a cataclysmic chain of events leading to oblivion. I'm baffled that he's collected nearly $80 million dollars in donations in just under three years. Did I mention that Christian radio network Family Stations Inc is a nonprofit? Evangelical broadcaster Harold Camping is at the helm.
Floods, tornadoes, oil spills, hurricanes, earthquakes, tsunamis, oh my. The planet has serious issues, there's no denying that. But if the end of the world where near, I'm pretty sure that Oprah wouldn't have scheduled her last episode to air when no one would be around to see it. Who would she give all of those cars to, if we all ceased to exist? Who would she sing her farewell Maya Angelou poetry to? Don't forget that you too can praise Oprah openly, via a fanpage on facebook, along with 150+ people who believe she's God and worship openly at the Church of O. Of course Oprah is God. Who else could get a group of self-deprecating women to Zipline at the Miraval spa?
It's now 11:08 AM on the day of reckoning and I'm still here. Hoping to get in a few hours of garage sale browsing before the big kaboom.
