Time is of the essence.
We’ve always known fame is fleeting, but now we have to start worrying about time.
The end is near, if you believe the Mayans, a band of visionaries older than the Rolling Stones who predicted so many thousands of years ago that the world will end Saturday.
For those who are uninformed, the whole world is going to stop in mid-spin because a prediction made by the Mayan calendar back in the B.C. era. Yes, that B.C., not Before Cell phones.
This calendar is a series of figures, numbers and math that was used to make predictions about the future. It made that Nostradamus guy the first believer of sabermetrics, long before Billy Beane and Davey Johnson were cashing in on the Moneyball philosophy.
Great, just as I was planning to start my Christmas shopping. Well, maybe that’s a good thing.
Saturday is supposed to be it.
We are checking out of the hotel … cancelling our subscriptions … watching the final episode of a long-running series.
We have been doing this so long, the Mayans didn’t hang around long enough to see how it all ends.
Maybe they ran out of time to really figure out exactly when the end of time was actually going to come.
Of course, many of us don’t think that it will all end in the next 110 hours.
It’s just a feeling. The following statement was made by a member of the Martinsburg football team after the Bulldogs won a third West Virginia Class AAA state title, but it seems to fit this situation.
“As the final seconds ran off the clock, I got the feeling that we reached our goal. We’re invincible.”
Still, just in case the invincibility isn’t, well, invincible, we have to realize that if this week is the final hurrah, we will leave with so many events still unresolved.
Think about it. We will never see Ray Lewis play for the Baltimore Ravens again if the big light switch is thrown come Saturday.
There will be no religious experience if Notre Dame actually wins the national championship after these years. Yep, there will be no divine intervention.
Then again, we won’t have to hear someone singing Me and Mayan Shadow.
If yesterday was the final any given Sunday, all the worry about falling off the fiscal cliff will be lost effort.
This one is a little more important, but all the fretting will rank right there with folks who worried about Y2K. You have to wonder if they are now following RGIII.
By next week, we won’t have to worry about all the implications of what happens when Maryland finally joins the Big Ten.
Then again, we won’t have to listen to Mayan Sharona.
Still, if it is over, we won’t be able to see if Martinsburg will win a record fourth straight state football title.
We won’t see if the Hagerstown Community College men’s basketball team will have what it takes to make it to another national tournament.
We will never find out if Washington County remains dominant in volleyball and track and field.
But we will avoid anyone who might have a notion to start a television series called Mayan Favorite Martian.
All the excitement surrounding the Redskins, Orioles, Nationals or Ravens and their accomplishments will be lost.
We won’t see another Wizards victory or Capitals game, either, but the Mayans have nothing to do with that.
If things don’t live up to the prediction, we will just have to worry about the start of another winter.
And it gets worse from there.
There is a rumor that my mentor and longtime Herald-Mail columnist Big Sydney will be donning a Huggie to pose as Baby New Year on Dec. 31.
Now, that’s the end of the world as I know it … and no, I won’t feel fine.
Bob Parasiliti is a staff writer for The Herald-Mail. He can be reached at 301-791-7358 or by email at firstname.lastname@example.org.
Parasiliti: If it's the end of world, will we know it?
Bob Parasiliti (Joe Crocetta / April 15, 2012)