Shit I Won’t Miss When the World Ends on Friday

Part of me really hopes the world doesn’t end on Friday. The apocalypse would be just like that time Fox cancelled Firefly; I was mostly entertained, and the show’s cancellation meant I had to find something else to watch, except there really wasn’t any other good science fiction on the television at the time. I was screwed.

Then there’s part of me that wouldn’t mind if it all ended in a burst of Mayan fire. The world is a ridiculous, illogical, stupid place–kind of like your average piece of Microsoft software. Maybe a reboot would fix it.

I’ve decided that the best option is somewhere in the middle: the world almost comes to an end on Friday, but a plucky crew of heroes saves it at the last minute. That way we all get a little excitement and the History Channel gets to launch seventeen new shows about ancient prophecies that might someday come true. Plus, if the apocalypse is averted, there’s a chance it won’t be stopped before the following things get wiped out.

  • Baby carriages. I’ve got no problem with babies; I was one once, after all, so hating them would be a bit hypocritical. Their primary mode of transportation, however, could use some work. Modern baby carriages are both built and operated like Hummers; they’re ridiculously big and complicated for what they do, and the people in control of them use them as battering rams for powering their way through surrounding traffic. This Friday, I hope all the baby carriages get hit by asteroids. After all the babies have safely escaped, of course.
  • Quarterbacks named Manning. These people live to make my football life miserable. Granted, it’s a lot of fun to laugh at the silly faces they make when they lose, but I wouldn’t be particularly disappointed if they all got eaten by zombies on Friday.
  • Grocery stores. There has got to be a better way to distribute food than piling it all up in narrow aisles clogged with old ladies trying to choose which can of beans they want. Don’t even get me started on the produce section. Those plastic bags on the roll? The devil incarnate. I wouldn’t shed a single tear if every grocery store was swallowed up by a fiery rupture in the earth’s crust.
  • Rewards cards. I swear I’ve got more of these than I have teeth–and I live in Massachusetts, not the south, so that’s saying something. Can I please just have the sales price without having my purchases tracked and my wallet stuffed with ugly plastic, please? I’d be very happy if all of the rewards cards on the planet spontaneously combusted sometime on Friday.

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