Well, friends the time has come...and gone.
It's almost 6:20 EST (or is that EDT?). No earthquakes, no signs of dead people rising into the air to meet some light in a splitting sky. There's not even the zombie infestation that the CDC warned about. Of course, if the CDC is warning about zombies, someone in there is clearly having a belly laugh. You probably will not find a more straight-up organization than the Centers for Disease Control, and that's a good thing. After all, if you think about it, there are no doubt pathogens stored within their chambers, the names of which you can't pronounce, that can unleash plagues more ghastly and devastating than anything devised in Harold Camping's fevered imagination.
Simply put, if it's apocalypse you're looking for, you need look no further. The CDC is well able to oblige. Thank God that's not their mission.
Well, it's now 6:39 pm local time. Still no earthquakes. Having pondered where I would be when the rapture comes (or not), having sipped coffee during the non-proceedings, I must now turn my attention to the other question of eternal significance and ponder what thing I must do, what herculean feat must I accomplish...for a Klondike bar.
Perhaps I'll have a smoothie while I think this through.
More Later, since there will be a later.
KCD
P.S. Harold Camping, the mad prophet at the center of this non-event is at this moment, incommunicado. Curious. Do you suppose he was...No. Not possible.
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