At 6 p.m. yesterday, I didn't even think about the Rapture. I was drinking a beer (an Oberon, if memory serves) and putting together some hamburgers (which is a fairly involved process for me). The charcoal was beginning to ash and the Preakness was about to start.

I have a feeling that the folks at the Preakness weren't thinking too much about the Rapture, either. Most of the fans in attendance had paid $60 for the right to stand on the infield and drink as much beer as they possibly could. Some pre-race commentators found this sort of authorized excessive partying distasteful. While I'm not partial to "Kegasus," the mascot of the infield's all-you-can-drink fest, the only truly distasteful thing I could find about this event was that the only beer allowed into the bottomless mugs was Budweiser Select. I wouldn't down fifteen-to-twenty Bud Selects if you paid me.

The Prez kept busy during Rapture time by continuing his campaign to piss off the Israeli government. While this probably bolsters his credentials as the Antichrist, I think it also shows how little respect he had for the prediction that the end of the world would begin on Saturday at 6 p.m.

But maybe it did. Maybe only 144 people were raptured and the world will still end on October 21. Think about it. If 144 people around the world disappeared all at once, maybe 1000 people would have a clue. They might call up the police, who might ask if this person sometimes didn't make it home, and so on. It would take more than six months to figure out that the Rapture actually came if only 144 select folks were teleported through the Heavenly gates.

I'm gonna put some good money on the world continuing on in its general fucked-up way, however. Just this spring, we've had two events of more than Biblical proportions. The earthquake, tsunami and nuclear crisis in Japan is something that even Jesus couldn't predict. And while people have always been familiar with floods, what's happening right now on the Mississippi is pretty damned amazing. Terrifying, if you live anywhere nearby, but amazing nonetheless.

Either one of those events would be enough to convince even the slightly credulous that the Lord had decided to demolish the Earth so that He could complete that long-promised interstellar bypass. But even so, I'm thinking all of this is business as usual. The world keeps on spinning.

And so do I. I'll be heading in to work tomorrow, riding the Metro and waiting for the latest "this train is stopped at a red signal because some damned fool jumped in front of a train at the Rhode Island station" message (we've had two of those in the last month, and one time the driver said those exact words). I'll bide my time all week until I can pick up my Friday lunch of bibimbap with spicy beef from the Yellowvendor food truck at Farragut Square. And I'll turn in my time sheet so that I can get paid on May 31.

Because even if the world is ending in six months and we all missed the Rapture, there's no point in panicking. If the Lord exists, and if the Lord has decided that enough is enough, then there's nothing we can do. Just live your life until you don't have one any more. And if you end up in Hell, look for me. I'll be the one wearing a thong crafted from rose stems.

Actually, I ought to try that before things get hot.

Jon Worley believes that one should wear clean underwear to the end of the world.