When it comes to Christmas this year – I can talk about this now because the shops are starting to fill up with their Christmas-y items, therefore it’s perfectly ok to mention it – I will be doing some last minute shopping. If we’re still here, that is.
Because, of course, 2012 is the year of that Mayan Prophesy. The one in which the world will end on December 21st. So, if that’s the case, I’m not sure I should really be going out of my way to come up with any thoughtful gifts for people between now and the other side of the apocalypse. I mean, why should I waste valuable time I should be living in thinking about whether a present is or isn’t suitable for someone. And it’ll save a lot of time buggering about writing cards as well. Not much point bothering – especially with the cost of a stamp these days – if the world’s just going to shatter or whatever at some point during the day.
Of course, there’s a lot of issues with this Mayan Prophesy. The first, I think, is that it’s not really a prophesy. It’s just the fact that whoever made their calendar stopped doing it on the date that would, once we’d settled on a working, uniform calendar system, fall on the 21st of December. Now, obviously, the first thing you would think on finding something like this is that they stopped because it was the end of the world.
That’s the obvious thought, really.
No-one stops to think that maybe the guy who made the calendar got a bit carried away, counting off his days and he only stopped when one of the other Mayans came up to him and told him he’d done enough.
“Tim! Tim… you can stop, mate. The calendar. You can stop. You’ve done enough. You’ve been at it for a ridiculously long time – well, you know, you invented the days – and, frankly, we’re running out of funny cat pictures to put on each of the months. Just stop now. Stop.”
“But, you don’t think some people in the future will find this calendar and think that the world’s going to end on that day, do you? Maybe I should put a note on it or something? What do you reckon?”
“Look, Tim, just leave it. It’ll be fine. No-one in the future’s going to think that. Come and have some sacrifice.”
That could actually have been what happened. Except, of course, in real life Tim would have been called Timaxypotl or something. Although that sounds a bit like a medicine.