A few months back, after a Saturday night of liver stress-testing, I found myself up at 7 on a Sunday morning. This is not generally a portion of the week with which I fraternize and I was none to happy to be doing so at the time…frankly anything more than sitting very still and moaning weakly was out of the question. So I flipped on the History channel, since their fine programming is actually on at that hour and doesn’t require things like focusing my eyes. Do you know what they show on Sunday morning on the History channel…hours and hours and hours of apocalypse-themed shows. And frankly, with the hangover I was nursing, the end of the world didn’t sound too poor at the time.
Fast forward to last week. I had put my morning of doom out of mind long before but apparently somewhere in the back of my brain there was still all this end-of-the-world (party (just in case)) business. And bright ideas just pop into my head and I keep thinking, with the bang-up job we are all doing at saving both nature and society, who’s to say that there won’t be a giant upheaval and we end up with some kind of crazy dystopian, post-apocalyptic world?
In my mind, do you know who the rulers of this new society would be?
That’s right. The rest of us will have engaged in enough self-destructive, counter-productive, ridiculous, and inane behavior that the French will finally get their day. And when they do they will overhaul language. Since they already have about 87 billion silent letters in their language, what with their final consonants and their apostrophes removing whole groups of letters from pronunciation, they will need to up the stakes.
You don’t say them or write them, but if you spell a word out loud they will be there. The small, furry animal that drinks milk and curls up on your lap? Oh, it’s still written “cat” and you still say it the same, but if you were in a spelling bee you had better include the invisible “k” between the c and the a (Because apparently, in the post-apocalyptic world, we still have spelling bees.)
Other predictions regarding Francylvania (which is clearly the only acceptable name for this society) include the instating of Paris Hilton as the new oracle at Delphi (because mind-altering earth gases…that’s hot) and break-dancing competitions in lieu of labor negotiations. Also, nauseated History channel watching will become the national pastime.
…I’m down with it all as long as I get to ride motorcycles with Tupac around a domed cage in California. 1995 promised me that would be part of the post-apocalypse.