Apocalyptic Scenario #1: Playing God and Other Tips from Chuck

Praise Chuck.

My death match against average Joe has not yet been waged, therefore I am safe to live another day. However, he has given me much more pressing problems to worry about. Because should I live until tomorrow, I have no choice but to die sometime in the future. The catch is, I will know the exact date of my death.

I lied.

So it might not be my death that Chuck has set up for me. It's the end of the world that will most likely end my life, because Father Klosterman (who now controls the earth and its rotations about the sun) has decided to collaborate with lowly me on exactly when this fated day will be. It will either be...

a) at exactly twelve o' clock on my fiftieth birthday or

b) two days after I die, on my 75th birthday.

True rock critics (Chuck) and their proteges (people like me) would generally try and make every attempt to dodge hypothetical scenarios such as this one. So to get a decent answer, I decided to ask some of my peers. Not the idealists, but the logical ones. Both chose the second option by default without a second thought to the matter. In fact, Rebecca stated "I don't care when the world ends, as long as I get an extra 25 years of life." Olivia raised an eyebrow. Chuck wrote a short article following his question that had absolutely no other purpose than to distract the reader from the fact that he had no answer. And I tried as hard as possible to understand why in the world I would pick the first answer.

For one, I am absolutely terrified of getting old.
And for some reason, this seems like a terrible thing to say.

Don't get me wrong; I love old people. They're allowed to be bitter, they forget things, they need to be taken care of (but they hate when you take care of them), most of them can't hear, and they're still good at giving advice. Society has even accepted that once a certain age is reached, it's perfectly okay to start to develop a habit not accepted by younger adults. Once again, we've let it become okay for 60 yr old women to flirt with young waiters. And beyond that age, it's the reason we sometimes just grit our teeth and bear it when someone over 80 uses a racial slur. They don't have to conform to the new social standards because it takes effort, and they're old enough not to be expected to make this effort. In the next decade or two, they'll die off and their politically-incorrectness will die off with them. So when I'm bitter and deaf, the last thing I'd like to be worrying about is how the world is going to end two days after I die. I won't die because of the apocalypse, no. I'll die of old age or cancer or heart disease. And not to make light of these, but the end of the world? This only happens once (or so we think) and it seems almost like a prestigious award for this never-before-seen disaster to be the thing that in the end ends my life.

HOWEVER,

Should the world end when I'm 50, there could be problems. First of all, the grand 50th birthday celebration that I hope for in 35 years would most likely be planned as an evening affair, and no one wants to come to a party during an apocalypse. But beyond this, what would this day be like? Would death ensue instantly? Or would our race live on with those hardy cockroaches on the nuked version of planet earth? For Christians, God will come on this day. So for anyone planning on converting to this religion anytime in the next 35 years, this would probably be the best option. After all, the rapture could be fun? For those who have lost at least some faith in the nature of people, including me, it's blatantly obvious that the end of the world will come when some idiot with money and a background in some advanced chemistry and war science will nuke this planet. Right after we drill all the oil out of it, develop and AIDS vaccine, and start to find a solution to climate change... POOF. They will be the ones to indefinitely ruin my day.

Chuck on the other hand, evaded the question and decided to write an essay about his 24 hr VH1 marathon. It was highly entertaining, and I didn't think about that question for the remainder of the chapter.
Maybe our politicians are taking lessons from Chuck too.

Conclusion: maybe I'm craving some science fiction.