Here we go. There's always gotta be some kook who thinks they've got it all figured out, and they won't be happy until everyone else is pinching a loaf about our imminent destruction. Seriously - there are even losers who spend a lot of time and energy organizing/attending "prophecy conferences" - can you believe that? What a waste.
There's one big bunch of fraidy-cats who are freaked out about today's date 06/06/06. Well, here's a bulletin, Einstein: Today's date is 06/06/2006. You're overlooking some numbers there. I don't think the world will end today, and even if it did, I think Slim Pickens had the right sort of "ride it hard & put it up wet" philosophy about it. Que sera, sera, bitches!
God grant me the serenity to change the things I can change,
to accept the things I cannot change,
and the ammunition to make the difference.
When I was in 8th grade in 1979, there was a doomsday cult that determined a particular date that Fall was the end of the world as we knew it, and of course, we all had the fear of being nuked by Russia at any moment. We'd just come through a fake "oil crisis" and Americans decked out in "I'm with Stupid" t-shirts and flipflops were being held hostage in Iran. A liqui-shit-storm of apocalyptic mojo seemed quite plausible, actually.
The little old ladies working in the cafeteria at school were clucking like a bunch of hens, jumpy as shit, and freaked out in general. A couple trumpet players from the band decided to give them a little treat. They crept to the back corner behind the serving ladies and tuned up the most celestial-sounding fanfare they could muster, and a shocked silence swept the room, then a wave of nervous laughter when everyone figured out what was going on. The old ladies had a litter of kittens each, and the world kept on turning.
See you tomorrow.