Have you heard this one? Just a story. Something someone told me one time. I'm going to totally screw up the punchline.

But it starts with "once upon a time" so you'll know that it's just a story. We wouldn't want you to believe the details, just heed the nut. The gist. The skinny.

If it was a story about something real, it would start with another line. Something concrete and indisputable. Like a dateline.

I have a note on my desk here at home. It says, "End of the World Party, May 21st."

This Saturday.

I've talked about this too much, probably because it amuses me soooo much.

The obvious yearning to end this life by people foolishly applying science and mathematics to fairy tales.

And the obliviousness, the willfull rejection of life on Earth for...something else. Something better. Probably a place without mortgages and dead end jobs and abortionists.

When I was young, I wanted to be a space pilot. Han Solo. Captain Kirk. That guy in The Last Starfighter who spent months playing a video game called The Last Starfighter and eventually became...THE LAST STARFIGHTER (genius!).

Chewbacca, but with less hair.

There are no space pilots. There are pilots on Space Shuttles, but they aren't space pilots. Not like any of us thought of them as kids. Not like in the movies. And now the Space Shuttles are just about finished with their productive lives. They will spend the rest of their days in museums.

Should we preserve our visions of history by making museum dioramas of people who don't exist anymore? Or those who are about to be obsolete? Should there be be some nerdy guy hunched over a record player with headphones (like a space pilot!) and some incense burning? Should future generations know about this stuff?

But, then again, the world is coming to an end. So probably not. And, also, we're in an era of "small government," which basically means government shouldn't pay for things so that regular people can experience them for little or no money.

Because, you see, government shouldn't be mandating (by subsidizing) a vision of history that doesn't jibe with certain people's vision of the world. And some people think this world is about goners.

At the same time, guns for all and corporate sponsorship of elections!

I'm thinking all candidates should wear three piece suits (or suit-ettes...women are included!) with patches from all of the companies and PACs and other special interests who pay for "free speech" by the candidate. That way we'll understand better why the first things these politicians do when they get into office is give a sweetheart deal to some company that doesn't need government subsidy.

As far as I know, there isn't an official end of the world party scheduled for Saturday. I might have to make my own. And there is a horse race that day. Could be a good time.

In the back of my head, I have to wonder if the people who sincerely believe that Saturday is the end of all things will, when proven wrong, try and make the world end just to prove they are right.

And then I remember they're fucking idiots.

See you next Sunday.

Matt Worley loves fairy tales, especially the ones written to keep kids chaste so they won't catch STDs from people who live in the forest. Or maybe they didn't want their kids having half-forest babies.