That's a Rap

I have beef with The Rapture.

I’m beyond the fact that it’s well after death time and we’re all still kickin, and I’m willing to overlook the leniency that it seems to have had as far as the whole “6 pm in each respective time zone” thing. I’m a little TO’d at the harassment I've endured for over 3 years about the fact that 2012 was the big shebang and all of a sudden, bible humpers (yes, I say “humpers” not “thumpers;” I get my kicks from sexual irony as it pertains to the über-religious) start warning me of the newest apocalypse A DAY AND A HALF before it’s supposed to ensue. I’m all for spontaneity, but if I’m going to achieve my life’s goal of eating my body weight in M&M’s, I need a bit of a heads-up.

If nothing else, they could have at least made the whole ordeal a little more exciting. My brother texted me this today: “You know what would be cooler than rapture? Raptor. And we all had to run around like Jurassic park.” This sparked an entire conversation about how our last day on this beautiful, slightly dysfunctional earth could turn out to be the most awesome evaaaa with just a few tweaks to the name. You’d feel pretty pleased with yourself and your life if this was going down as you were going out:

RAPture: We run around being chased by the ghosts of the best rappers of all time. How awesome would it be to essentially play tag with Eazy E, ODB, Biggie, and Tupac until kingdom come? Seriously, think of the badassery for a second. Would we be running or gangsta leaning? Pimp strut? I’d actually look forward to my impending demise if I got to swag surf my way toward it. Granted, the potential for terror is pretty much inevitable, considering the incidences of AIDS, overdoses, and gun control we’d be up against; however, possibility of a live (in an entertainment sense) performance of Shimmy Shimmy Ya would be well worth it.

RAPTure: Our attention spans miraculously improve. At the risk of sounding like my parents and their friends who are in awe of TiVo even though it’s been around since 1999, we live in a technological age, and things like the FB and Twitties consume most of our lives. On this final day of being, we would suddenly be able to pay attention to each other, and not just through photo albums or status updates. Now it’s true that online creeping could and would rear its realistic head and materialize as actual stalking. Weird kid that pokes you on a bi-daily basis would actually be nudging you in the ribcage, and a fat 40-year-old Albanian man would physically follow you around. Disturbing. But since you’d now be more on your game, you can Duckunder Nearside the prodder into a Half Nelson while unleashing the keychain mace on Old Man Shadow. Engross yourself in that, fool!

raptURe: We’ll go out texting. There’s nothing funny I can say about this, because for about 98% of the population, it’ll be true.

rAPTure: We feel more inclined to do things. Maybe a little counterproductive considering the world is coming to an end, but hey, better late than never. This is the perfect time to face your demons and come clean about all of your naughtiness and stop being such a procrastinator already. I, obviously, would take this period of time to do something astounding because my moments of extreme genius and powerful inspiration always come at the last possible minute. Imagine what would happen in the world when people got down to the biznazz! Right when it counted, cancer would be cured and gay marriage would be given the unanimous go-ahead. And then POOF, we’re done. Way to pull it together in the clutch peeps.

I’m just sayin. It’s already Sunday and I’m neither dead nor in fear of dying. What a jip! I guess I’m just that much more prepared for Doomsday. Or will it be doOMsday, the last day of vinyasa yoga classes? We shall see!