Finis, the first picture top left, depicts the way most people will face "the end" of their world, if not the end of the world itself. It's rumored Hogarth did not sign the woodcut, but instead inscribed its reverse: HOS VENET FINIS NON CVM ANARCHES SED LAMENTAM: "Thus came the end, not with a bang but a whimper." Today is a good day for such musings and speculations since a new disaster movie raises the specter once more. It would be great if we could count on exactly knowing the day, time and hour of imminent doom and somewhat actually plan for the world's end, or even that of our own inglorious demise. Sad to say, the exploits of Hollywood film-makers depictions or a Thermopylae stand of King Leonidas fame do not await the majority of us. Galt-in-Da-Box only knows of those who literally "didn't know what hit them" or made their rendezvous with destiny in a hospital bed after a protracted Vietnam-style engagement with progressive disease. Those left behind (and I'm not talking about "after The Rapture") tell me the only thing possibly worse than "the end of the world" is surviving it. It didn't involve anyone dying, but I've been well acquainted with that sentiment since 30 August, 2008. The new release is all about survivors of the apocalypse allegedly foretold by the end of a Mayan calendar. Mystics of spirit worldwide see this as an omen that the end of time itself is nigh at hand. I've a calendar on the wall at work that ends on 31 December this year; does that mean the universe expires at midnight? Since they're printing ones for 2010, not so much. If you want to participate in the every-dozen-year end-of-the-world hysteria, jump in. I'm planning to throw a huge Fin Del Mundo party that'll start the minute after all this is supposed to be over. Thinking of making a family tradition of it. You're all invited, because I don't know when the world's gonna end, but you can be pretty damned certain it won't be on December 21st, 2012 at 11:11AM! Everyone must believe in something, which is why this blogger believes worrying about events over which you have little to no control is a monumental waste of your precious fucking time! On that note, these lines are dedicated to the big-eared blue-hair ahead of you, dicking along in a massive emerald '72 Olds or F-650 super-duty pick-up at less than half the speed limit on that two-lane goat path: Why do those with the least time left waste it the most!? I know that was only tangentially related to cashing in your chips or a global dirt-nap but I always wanted to address that issue and can now scratch it off my Bucket List!