Countdown to Finality

So, you have 26 days left until the Rapture.  Are you ready?  Made your Rapture Party Plans yet?  Have you found a home for your pet yet (that is to say, for those of you who will be leaving us)?  Have you made your Bucket List?  Get on it people!  There isn’t time to dilly, or dally, or hesitate!

Then again, utilizing a quote I heard during my recent trip to NYC (I can’t claim right to this one, but I will use the hell out of it): “Why can’t you quit?  Jesus did.”  So, maybe you shouldn’t do anything.  Just let it happen.  Heat up some queso, prop up your feet, refuse to shower and watch 26 days of television.

Hell, forward all your bills to the people at We Can Know, seeing as how they’re so up on this whole Rapture shibang.  I mean, can’t there be some type of legal spin on making plans around their May 21st date…you know, in the unlikely event that they’re wrong?

Dammit.  I just paid off my car.  Should have thought that one through a bit more.

Still, maybe this isn’t really a bad thing at all.

I feel secure that my publisher will still be around, since I know God isn’t terribly fond of Faerie worship or purple highlights, so at least Flutter will still arrive in August.  And since I’m not necessarily targeting Christians with my books (well, targeting, yes, but not in the publicity sense), then I can rest assured that my audience will still be around.  In fact, this may be a boon to the publishing industry, now that I think on it, because it will eliminate…er, I mean, remove all the people who are most traditionally likely to whine about literary content.  Vampire Porn for everyone!  Hopefully Stephanie Meyer is taken.  I can’t stomach anymore of her work.

I’m actually thinking that the bulk of people at Twitter and Facebook will still be around, so we’ll still have that.  To boot, all that Christian clutter will be gone, so no more scrolling through the rants and praise to Mr. Jesus.  Heck, little boys all over the world can roam free, safe and secure in the knowledge that their pants won’t be removed by some God-horny Man of the Cloth, so that’s good.  Then again, won’t all the Men of the Cloth who engaged in that activity still be here?  Hm.  Rule of the land!  It’s time to put these imbeciles on a remote island with a few other undesirables, and have an And Then There Were None reality show.  Given the dearth of candidates, and only 12 slots (should we remain true to the story), I’m thinking several continuous seasons of this will do fine.

Fortunately, we’ll still have this:

So that’s cool.

I’m actually feeling confident that the bulk of television shows, actors and actresses, producers, directors, musicians, writers, artists and executives will still be around, so I guess Hollywood just keeps rolling.  I mean, they didn’t stop for Pearl Harbor or 9/11, did they?  Can’t seem them seeing this any differently.  So, we’ll still have a major portion of our art intact.

This solves our energy crises, doesn’t it?  And food shortages?

Can we get back to community-based lifestyles, and weed out the box stores?  I can promise you all non-Christian based indie bookstores will still be around.  They didn’t break for Amazon or B&N, so I figure the Rapture won’t kill their inspiration either.  Should be plenty of stock and, as mentioned, better quality to choose from, so there you are.  Another win.

Looks like the recession is over.  Jobs for everyone!

May have to entertain that Trump for President thing, after all.  He’ll still be around.  I mean, it would appear that every politician is a Christian, or so they would have you believe.  Surely they weren’t lying about that.  I’ll vote for him.  Although George Clooney might be more interested now that there’s no real backlash to him running, right?  Hell, all of Hollywood might put their name in the hat if they can do so comfortably knowing that there’s no one left to call them out on their loose-running morality issues.

What else?

You know, this may very well be the greatest Litmus test in the whole of testing things that aren’t what they purport to be.  I sense a great deal of finger waggling, post Rapture, with some, “Ahhhhhh, I knew you weren’t a Christian!” in for good measure.  Playground rules apply.  Those shamed are cast into the Pit of the Unwanton Liars Who Used to Be Bullies But Are Now Just Stupid Dummy Butts.

Yeah, I’m liking this post-Rapture world.

I need to go stock up on cheese.  Feel free to do the same.  In the meantime, what did I forget?

Being a Non-Christian Means I Get Your Pet, Right?

So, fueling off of yesterday’s blog regarding the End of the World proclamations of the folks at, it has been brought to my attention–by the ever vigilant, yet slightly askew Kimberly Kennedy–that I neglected to cover a very critical aspect of the forthcoming Rapture: What to do with your pet.

We’ll call this section of the blog, “So, You’re Being Raptured, Section 2, sub-section 43a: What to do with your pet.”

It seems that you’re on the list to ride the G-train to Heaven, and when the Rapture comes, you’ll be making your way with millions of Christians, while the remainder of the heathens stay behind to be dominated and controlled by the Anti-Christ for the five months leading up to the End of the World.  That takes care of that, right?  I mean, naturally, there is sadness for those whom you may love, to some varying degree, that were not wise enough to embrace Jeebus, and make him their BFF (or would it be BFFE–Best Friend for Eternity?), but that’s the way the communion wafer floats in the grape juice, right?  They had their chance.  But–and this is a horrifying thought, I would think–what happens to your pet?  What becomes of Fluffy the cat, or Bruiser the dog, Golden the goldfish, or Tyrus the turtle?  They didn’t have their say.  Nobody asked them if they wanted to accept Jeebus as their Lord Owner and Feeding Savior.  What if they wanted to be Christian?  Even Noah had to rescue the poor beasts of the Earth before the Great Flood, so what now?  You can’t very well leave your pets with…with…non-believers, can you?

Well, don’t fret, because the good people (and aren’t they just the best for being so thoughtful, and willing to pitch in?) at After the Rapture Pet Care have your answer.  Here’s a video to help out!

Lookit!  Real testimony from the website!

It’s a real concern, and a legitimate concern. Our pets are given to us by God for us to care for. We are stewards of their lives. Should we simply forget them at the Rapture, allow them to starve or worse?

Real…and legitimate.  Wow.  Powerful words.  Powerful.

But who are these Caretakers, and why should you trust them with your pets?  Well, right there on the Home page is your answer:

Most Volunteer Pet Caretakers fit this description:

  • They are atheist or another non-Christian religion.
  • They love animals enough to register with us even though they do not believe there will be a Rapture (or are agnostic about it).
  • They are not paid, so they are not signing up simply to make a quick buck. In fact, they’ve agreed to care for the pets they rescue as their own, including being financially responsible for them.

We match Volunteer Pet Caretakers by location and the types of pets they wish to care for. Some Volunteer Pet Caretakers will care for any type of pet, while others express interest in only caring for particular animals, such as only dogs or only cats. They have agreed to seek out other Volunteer Pet Caretakers to help them with our mission if the Rapture occurs. Each Volunteer Caretaker will be given access to our database of animal shelters and other animal rescue groups so they can quickly find other animal lovers to help rescue your pets.

Now, I’m not trying to suggest that God might require you to submit paperwork at the Pearly Gates, proving that you have made proper arrangements to have His Creatures cared for, but you might not want to take that chance.  You might not want to be the one in line that gets dropped through a cloud like a trapdoor on a stage with the simple pull of St. Peter’s Magic Lever of Descent.  You might–just might–want to avoid the spiritual embarrassment of nullifying an entire life (or five minutes, depending on how last minute you repented) of Jeebus Faith by taking a spare few minutes for the pets you love and adore, and ensuring that they will be cared for until the End of Time (or sooner, if they don’t survive the five months We Can predicts).  Just sayin’.  The Pope may not think too highly of condoms, but sometimes it’s better to be protected than to roll the dice on behalf of other lives.

Don’t wait.  He who hesitates, hesitates.  Your pet loves you, and will be very, very, very, very sad to see you go (unless you own a cat).  So sad that you might want to take a few moments now and have a good cry, and plead to God to allow you to bring your pet along, and that they’ll be really good, and not pee on the clouds, and you’ll keep them in your corner of Heaven and He’ll never even know they’re there (which He will, but, hey, semantics, right?).  But after you’ve cried long, and hard, and come to realize that every day between now and May 21st will be one in a series of Last Days You Spend With Your Beloved Pet, run to your computer, fall over it if you have to, but save these poor pets lives before they die of absolute, and utter, loneliness and despair.  It’s your chance now.  Your…last…chance.

Don’t fail your pets.  Save them now, like they couldn’t be Saved while you were there.  You can Ascend knowing they will be cared for.  They will be loved.  They will be fed.  They will play, and find some sense of happiness in your departure.

For at least five months anyway.  Then, like the rest of us, they’ll be dead.