Motown's Sereena X of Metaphor Voodoo is up to bat with this week's roundtable discussion. Apparently, the end of the world is still looming as the doomsday clock is a-tickin'. The query? What would you do with the last week of existence?
Sh*t, man... people have been predicting doom and gloom for eons now. Ever since I was a wee one, I've seen cartoons with that old dude with the beard and the placard alerting us that the end of the world was upon us. Well, 38 f*cking years later, and I'm still looking over my shoulders.
Anyway, I always thought it would be some big explosion. I came of age during the Reagan Era, where me and all the other teens cringed at the thought of his withered p*ssy finger itching to hit 'the button.' Well, now that the crusty old bastard is d-e-a-d, some of the irrational fear is gone... Or is it? The way the media and the government paint a portrait, every homo-sapien with middle-eastern sand in their ass crack is packin' a walloping punch of plutonium, uranium and enough germs to make us sh*t ourselves to the afterworld.
Regardless of how we all collectively check out... the question remains: Last week on Earth?
I'd always had a last piece of tail in mind when the time came, but f*ck that sh*t. I want to be awake when it happens. Now it's all about the boys. Pack up the family truckster with some clothes, grub and hockey sticks; steal gas and food for a week and find a cave.
"Come get me, mother f*cker. Yeah. I'm talkin' to you, Armaggedon. I'm still standin', b*tch. I've got your Four Horsemen right here."
(Not god. No. Me and dat nigga dere will sort that sh*t out later.)