The first semester of my senior year at college I took an English class entitled "Literature of the Apocalypse," a course as cheery as it sounds. It was based on the writings by Nostradamus among others, asserting when the end of the days would come. My english professor, an otherwise very logical and smart man, seemed to be convinced that the world would end at midnight on January 1st, 2000. His not so subtle reminder of this belief was represented when he entered class every day and before doing anything else, he would mark the chalkboard with the dwindling number of days that we had left. We all got a good laugh out of this the first few weeks of the semester, but as the number on the chalkboard grew lower and lower, it led to some uneasiness among us. I'm not sure if he actually believed that the world was ending or not, but whether he believed it didn't matter. The point was that he sold it repeatedly; never giving a wink or smile to indicate that he was putting us on. I enjoyed the class more and more as the semester went on. The awkward silences at the beginning of class when people looked up and saw "27 days left" was infinitely entertaining to me. Plus we got to watch Rosemary's Baby one day, so that was awesome.
Needless to say, the world did not end when 1/1/00 came, although I would be lying if I said that the thought didn't enter my mind several times during my drunken New Years Eve. I silently wondered if maybe I should warn people. What if the apocalypse came and I kept the info to myself? Would that be frowned upon? I felt a sigh of relief when the clock struck midnight. After all, if I had seen Dick Clark broadcasting with angry green skies behind him, and frivolous party-goers strewn across the streets of
So with my conscience clear today, don't say I didnt warn you, kids. And also, stay off the pipe.