Chris Johnson

Some final words before the world ends again

Having lived through several ends of the world, I must say I'm a little disappointed in the lack of hype about this week's upcoming apocalypse, supposedly predicted by the Mayans, whose calendar either ends Friday, Dec. 21, or they simply ran out of pictures of cute puppy dogs and kittens to put on their calendars and quit making them.

Either way, the attention to it has actually waned in the past few months instead of increased. When old Family Life Radio kook Harold Camping was raising more than $100 million to spread his bogus end-of-the-world message prior to the 2011 end of the world, it got all kinds of media attention -- as if the media had just discovered that there were masses of gullible people in the world.

Or maybe it was because they were intrigued by the mathematical formula Camping used to determine the date: Take the number of Rehoboam's sons, add the number of commandments, multiply by the days it took to find a male and female newt for the ark and subtract the number of Camping's remaining brain cells and -- miraculously -- it gives you a number that has exactly nothing to do with anything or as Camping deemed it, the date of the apocalypse.

But whatever the reason, no one is even talking about this anymore. I mean, the world ends on Friday, people! Quit work! Cancel your weekly DVR recordings of "Duck Dynasty." Cash out that retirement account! Kids, quit doing homework! Sure, you'll use math every day for the rest of your lives like your teacher says, but that's only five more days, so give it up already!

Another great thing about the end of the world is our congressmen can quit grandstanding for TV cameras over these fiscal cliff negotiations, which are about as mature as the "I triple-dog dare you!" scene from "A Christmas Story." The biggest difference is that instead of Flick sticking his tongue to a pole, a lot of lawmakers have their lips on Grover Norquist's backside. Of course, in the movie, they were finally able to pry Flick's mouth off the pole. No such luck with lawmakers and Grover's behind.

And as an Atlanta Falcons fan, this saves me what has become an annual disappointment in the playoffs. And as a Braves fan. And as a Hawks fan. And as an Atlanta Dynamos Hula-Hooping Team fan.

All in all, I think I'm fairly well prepared for the end of the world. I've stocked up on all the things one requires for such an event -- salt, limes, tequila and a playlist of Jimmy Buffett tunes since I obviously won't get to go to his concert next year. Yes, I'm going to ring in the end of the world like it's Y2K all over again. That way, if the end of the world is more painful than the last few times it ended, I won't notice.

The biggest tragedy in all of this is that the world ends on a Friday, right before the weekend, meaning the world will end on a week with a Monday but no Saturday. That's not fair!

I hope the next time the world ends, they schedule it for a Monday.

-- Chris Johnson is an independent correspondent whose "Best of Chris Johnson" is now available for Kindle. Follow him at