According to one man, Harold Camping, today was supposed to be the end of the world.
The apocalypse will strike, Camping teaches, on May 21, wherever it happens to be 6 p.m. That means it will be Friday night in America when what Camping calls “super terrible” earthquakes will hit the New Zealand region.
The earthquakes will then roll on, time zone by time zone. The saved, perhaps 2% to 3% of the world population, will be whisked to God, while the rest will be obliterated in what he calls “a super horror story.”
It’s now just after 6 PM here, and the earth has remained remarkably stable. The worst thing today was the series of thunderstorms which rolled through here, leaving me very wet as I made my way back in to shelter. Matter of fact, New Zealand and other areas which were supposed to be hit first have also not been experiencing any earthquakes. All of which means one thing. I have to go to work tomorrow and finish up all the field reports due on Monday.
It’s not that I really expected it to happen. Seriously, there have been so many “end of the world” predictions made, all of them wrong, that I’m inured to them. I find them funny, except for a brief moment of pity for the people who not only believed it, but went off the deep end about it and did something like sell off everything they own to “get ready.” The man who made this prediction already has a record for being wrong. He’s predicted the end of the world before, and no, it didn’t happen then either! But that sort of record never seems to matter to people.
Even though I knew that, and made my plans around the fact that the world wasn’t going to end, there’s that little part of me that thought wistfully that if the world ended, I’d have a terrific excuse for not getting the reports done. But, here I sit writing a blog on a day that the world was supposed to end, and I’m still here. The sun is back out, the earth has not quaked, and I still have to go to work tomorrow. Darn it!