Go Home, Humanity, You’re Drunk

I’d like to take this opportunity to express the feeling of utter despair I’ve been battling lately.

The world is coming to an end.

I know, I know, you’ve heard this before and are no longer impressed by crazy once a month Armageddon scenarios. In which case you are, I’m sorry to say it, stupid and wrong. It’s for real this time.

And no, don’t give me that “How about those crazy Mayans?” balderdash. The Mayans were wrong. The Sun didn’t explode. The magnetic poles didn’t shift. There was no bye-bye-everyone meteor crash. There was no extraterrestrial invasion.  But this time, this time it’s different.

This time, it’s a comet.

It should be slamming into us right about Christmas time, so feel free to open your presents early this year.

I must say, I am a tiny bit depressed we’re all going to die a terrible sudden death again. I haven’t got enough time to seek vengeance on all my life long enemies, or to at least get super fit and flaunt my amazingly firm curves in front of them. It’s barely enough time to get a decent haircut and buy a pair of very uncomfortable shoes I’ll probably attempt to wear once, to the pub down the street, before we get obliterated. It’s not ideal really.

Our clock is ticking and I fill my remaining days on this planet with meaningless things. Reading rather depressing books, eating rather depressing salads, typing rather depressing code. I can’t say winter’s coming anymore without feeling like I’m misleadingly quoting The Game of Thrones, but winter is. Coming. Especially in my office. I’ve always found UK offices particularly freezing. I’m the one with a jacket on while everybody else around is chilling in flip flops. And now, it’s cold enough to be typing with gloves on as far as I’m concerned. A flaring comet blast doesn’t sound like such a bad idea after all.

Nope, I’m not more depressed that usual. I’ll not be binge drinking my way off this planet (though there’s already talk of Christmas parties in the office, and my antisocial inner self is slowly getting restless with dread). I’ll not even be converting to a new religion or start stalking my high school sweethearts. I guess I’ll just be waiting for extinction being my boring regular self, gloves on and everything.

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