This is starting to get a little ridiculous. Some guy named Robert Fitzpatrick spent over $100,000 on advertisements saying that the world is going to end today. I appreciate that he’s trying to get me to repent and look after my well-being, but if I thought the world was going to end I’d be blowing my money in Vegas.
This whole idea is based around the fact that today is the 7,000th anniversary of God telling Noah to build his Ark. I have a big problem with this. Weren’t calendars a little different back then? There were like eight months in the year. Also, I’m a little rusty on my scripture, but didn’t the giant flood pretty much destroy human civilization? I’m assuming Noah didn’t have a Blackberry to keep track of what day of the week it was. The odds of these guys nailing the exact second of the Earth’s destruction are worse than me being the father of January Jones’s bastard child. Everyone knows the world is supposed to end in 2012, anyway. Hollywood would not lie about this.
I hate people that read something and assume there’s symbolism all over the place. I personally liked Animal Farm for the animals. Can’t you just enjoy the Bible without seeing all these hidden endtime prophesies? You can find symbolism in anything, even an article about Arnold Schwarzenegger ‘s baby mama in US Weekly. I just can’t wait to see the look on their faces when the world is still here at 6:01. Oh whoops, I just spent my life savings advertising an event that didn’t happen. At least this is going to help the MTA. Maybe they won’t have to raise subway fares to $4 a ride. Fitzpatrick doesn’t even have the foresight to put advertising on his website, you know, just in case he’s wrong and needs some grocery money.
Maybe that’s what I’ll do with The Suite to drive up the pageviews. You heard it here first. The world is going to end on June 17, 2012 when the Knicks win the NBA Title. Get the doomsday clock going, baby! But please, don’t spend the time cowering in fear and buying advertising on buses. Use that money to take the Stoner to Ghostbar. Until then, you’re a Jabroni, brother.
Rainman Suite 