Apocalypse Soon

I’ve granted myself until the end of the world to write this post. Unfortunately, that doesn’t give me as much time as I would’ve hoped.

Had my diary stretched three-and-a-half years into the future, there’d be a big red pen mark around Friday, 21st December, 2012. The remaining 10 blank pages I could use to make a chatterbox - that would be nice. Only it wouldn’t be nice because I’d be dead and you can’t enjoy a chatterbox when you’re dead.

The aforementioned date is, of course, when the Mayan calendar stops. Big deal – my calendar ends on 31st December THIS YEAR (and seems to be stuck on May). But then Mayans weren't a bunch of lazy halfwits with scratch-and-sniff trousers with a 12-month VW Campervan jobbie like me. Or the flesh-hungry primitives awaiting the salvation of Catholicism of Mel Gibson’s (god-awful, if you'll excuse the blasphemy, Mel) Apocalypto. They actually built pretty cool pyramids and shit, don’t y’know.

What happens when Mayan time runs out is unknown, but the doom mongers (as apposed to the fishmongers, who’s remit is mainly fish) are getting excited. That’s great, it started with an earthquake, bikes and snakes and airplanes, Lenny Bruce is not afraid; honeybees, eagles and otters are all fucked; swine flu; knitted soft toys; reality TV; zombies; Vogon Constructor Fleets; cats and dogs living together. CGI is going to kill us all. Or maybe nuffin.

Wikipedia's take on it is more definite:

The world burns in flames.

But while I’m here picking bits of toothpaste out of my t-shirt, there are thankfully those amongst us who are more proactive. Joining apocalypse-battling John Cusack are the likes of portly whistleblower-cum-21st century David Ike (and possibly Jesus) David Shayler, who will not stop "until the truth has conquered the New World Order." Unless there’s a Gregs the baker on the way.

How about other self-appointed saviour Rob Bast, then? He offers some practical advise on his website:

Most home owners have fire insurance, even though they do not expect their house to ever burn. They have it because losing their home and contents would be devastating, and insurance is quite cheap.

The human species does not have an insurance policy that covers a global cataclysm in 2012. Until governments, organisations or high-worth individuals make an effort, my intention is to do the best I can, because at least 1 person out of 6 billion people should make an effort.

Good work, Rob. The rest of you need to get your finger out. That’s all I’m saying.

And now for something completely different

It's been a while. To be fair, in the last month, I've been to Basel, Brussels and Vienna. That's not really a boast – I was mostly working, innit (except Basel, where I was climbing mountains, swimming in rivers and getting off my face on spas and shit).

I was in Brussels for maybe six hours, long enough to find the cashpoint in the station.

Vienna I spent a bit more time in. Stunning city – looks like it was built yesterday, supposing yesterday was 1850. Ultravox didn't write a song about it for nothing. Anyway, there I broke a toilet with my own poo: true story.

So yeah, the point I was going to make is that despite all the neglect I lavish on this blog, I'm actually doing a pretty good job, comparatively. According to Caslon Analytics, some Australians who research stuff when they aren't slapping shrimps five times the size of those found in British waters onto a barbecue grill in a stereotypically brash manner, 60 to 80% of blogs cease to exist within a month of conception. And most of these probably have some sort of purpose, other than mine which seems to just needlessly fill the internet with more words.

What I am offering is diversity. Outside a Raphael Saddiq gig, the sight of a slightly hairy 30-year-old white dude of average height is about as eventful as an episode of Two Pints of Lager and a Packet of Crisps. If this was a bell curve, I'd be sitting right at the top, admiring the view.

But in the world of blogging, I'm an anomaly. I'm chronologically challenged, genderly transgressive and I DON'T GET EXCITED ENOUGH. In fact:

The typical blog is written by a teenage girl who uses it twice a month to update her friends and classmates on happenings in her life. It will be written very informally (often in "unicase": long stretches of lowercase with ALL CAPS used for emphasis) with slang spellings, yet will not be as informal as instant messaging conversations (which are riddled with typos and abbreviations).

Teenagers have created the majority of blogs. Blogs are currently the province of the young, with 92.4% of blogs created by people under the age of 30. Half of bloggers are between the ages of 13 and 19. Following this age group, 39.6% of bloggers are between the ages of 20 and 29.

Better still, one commenter notes that blogging "remains the dominion of geeks, wittier-than-thou twenty-to-thirtysomethings in Manhattan and angry gay Republicans." At least I'm not a Republican.

This all means the odds against me actually getting off my arse and posting this are astronomical. So if you're reading this, think yourself lucky. Or don't. Your choice.