The End of the World

I’ve been thinking a lot about apocalypses recently… apocali? Or is it more like apoc-ellipses.

Anywho, I digress.

No, it’s not out of some emo, poetic, ‘we all die alone!’ sense of self-loathing. Honestly, I’ve just recently found myself pondering, among other things, how little our planet’s decimation (and consequently, that of our entire species) would effect the universe as a whole. I mean seriously now, we really do walk a fine line between existence and extinction at any given moment. Sure, we claim to be at the top of the animal totem pole on our planet, and I guess when you look at our furry and unarmed brothers we are, but what about viruses? The tiniest lifeforms on our precious ever spinning rock kill more of us than any other human murderer around!

And those of us that those pesky specks don’t kill seem hellbent on hurrying along the process ourselves.

I mean, between murder, accidents stemming from sheer carelessness, our collective addictions to eating, smoking, drinking and pill popping, and an alarming number of people letting stress hurry them into an early grave, I wouldn’t be altogether surprised if 2012 was the last year humanity still mostly functioned.

But whether it’s some super-virus that scurries along and wipes out the vast majority of us, or a meteorite that takes a detour into our gravitational pull…

…or even if some trigger happy, button pushing suit decides nuclear war is somehow a viable option (if we die that way, we deserve to be a universe-wide laughingstock), there’s one thing I like to keep in mind:

It was fun while it lasted!