Apocalypse? Whenever.
Dear Mr. Sarcasm,
I’m finally taking a long-needed vacation, and now I’m really exhausted from two days at theme parks in Orlando. I thought this was supposed to be relaxing! My question is, should I take a break and just lounge around today, or should I try and go back so I can get in that “Terminator 3-D” ride I missed (and I’ve been wanting to go on for the better part of the last decade)?
— Flummoxed in Florida
Dear Flum,
Ah, Florida. Home of elderly folk patiently awaiting death, Cuban refugees impatiently awaiting the death of Fidel Castro and the singlemost fucked-up election in American history. (No, I haven’t gotten over that. Shame on you if you have.) It’s every would-be humorist’s dream to actually be asked to write about Florida — you might as well open a conversation with “so, those New York cab drivers really are foreign, huh?” or “man, I sure wish somebody would explain the differences between men and women, especially in terms of the way they handle the remote control for the television, or possibly driving.”
But most regular readers — certainly you, Flummoxed, have known me long enough to realize I would never do things the easy way. Why write something filled with time-tested jokes that you’re certain to chuckle at, when I can forge ahead into uncharted territory and take that 1-in-500 chance that I’ll find some as-yet undiscovered source of comedy? That’s why you all love me. I’m a pioneer. Also, a stubborn contrarian who disagrees just for the sheer fuck of it. (And on top of all that, I seem to be extra eager to use the F-word this week, for some reason.)
Unfortunately, you asked me this question four or five days ago, so you’ve long since made your decision, and the Fotomat guys are probably already ogling your swimsuit pictures as you patiently await their development. (And I’ve seen you in a swimsuit. Trust me, they’re ogling. Rowr.) Perhaps one day technology will provide advice columnists with some sort of magical way to dispense our answers instantly, but for now, we’re stuck with what we have. (Perhaps one day we won’t have to depend on Fotomat booths to develop our pictures as well. Hey, I’m already dreaming of some kind of future ruled by impossible sorcery — might as well go all out, right?)
What I would have suggested is to check out the ride — not because of any entertainment value it may or may not have (seriously, how much fun could it be watching a state governor pretend to be a robot?), but because it’s vitally important to verse oneself in the apocalyptic warnings that popular culture has been providing us with for as long as I can remember.
The robot apocalypse featured in the Terminator films — and, by extension, the ride — is one of several possible ways the world will be transformed sometime in the future. I mean, think about it: why would those three movies, plus three Matrix movies and countless store-brand generic knockoffs persist in this idea if there were not some nougat of probability concealed beneath the milk chocolate of its entertainment value? Science fiction has long existed to dispense valuable social wisdom beneath the brushed steel veneer of impressive movie poster logos. Why would the luminaries of the medium keep bashing us liberally about the head and neck with the notion that machines will one day suck away our precious humanity if there were not some kernel of truth to it? They couldn’t possibly just be making this stuff up.
Then there’s the zombie apocalypse — some unspecified disaster that kills off most of the population and transforms them into soulless flesh eaters. This is the theory that led me to believe that there actually will be some kind of apocalypse — not because it’s particularly believable to me, but because I’ve met more than one person who actually thinks it’s going to happen. Seriously. They try to play it off like they’re joking, but they’re not. And realizing that made me realize that there’s actually a sizeable (relatively speaking, of course) portion of the nerd populace that bought The Zombie Survival Guide not for laughs, but because they want to be ready when the dead rise from the grave and attempt to consume our delicious brains.
My natural impulse is to ridicule these people (though, let’s be honest here: my natural impulse is to ridicule all things on this great earth), but I know quite a few of them to be rather clever. One of them has been dating me for quite awhile, so how stupid could she be?
Then there’s that old standby that we Cold War babies came to fear and respect: nuclear obliteration. I’m not sure how it is that we’re supposed to be less scared of this happening now that the unified Soviet government (a single nuclear threat) has split into a hundred tiny nations (each with their own nukes) that can’t even afford to feed themselves, but nobody talks about the nuclear menace anymore so it must not be that big a deal, right? I mean, when was the last really scary movie about nukes? Hell if I can remember. Personally, I think we should go back to calling it “the atomic menace.” Not because it’ll call any more attention to the issue or anything like that. I just think it sounds cooler.
I think we can rule out the “giant asteroid colliding with earth” theory, if only because two terrible movies about that got released simultaneously and we’ve forgotten all about them already. (I got all the way to Wikipedia to look up the titles before I realized I really didn’t give a crap.) Obviously, if it doesn’t make a lasting impression on the collective pop consciousness, it can’t be all that plausible as world-ending catastrophes go. Anyway, isn’t that how the dinosaurs went out? I’m pretty sure whatever cosmic intelligence is controlling our fate like a half-drunk ADHD sufferer playing The Sims isn’t prone to repeating Himself. However humanity meets its inevitable end, it won’t be some lame, clichéd thing that already happened to some other species.
I guess there’s the whole Rapture thing, though I fail to see how Blondie’s early 80s crossover hit could bring about the end of life as we know it. All it makes me want to do is get a little funky. Though I admit the Joe Pesci rap song “Wise Guy” (yes, you heard me — a rap song by Joe Pesci), which samples “Rapture” makes me want to kill a human or two. Particularly the hook, which goes “it’s the bitches that’ll get yez.” Urgh.
And speaking of music from the 80s, I don’t care how vital it is that we spare every remaining life to repopulate the species — anyone caught singing that damn R.E.M. song about the end of the world will receive a faceful of chainsaw or shotgun or whatever my survival weapon of choice will be at the time. It’s not even that I particularly dislike the song right now, but in the wake of whatever holocaust we’ve managed to survive, it’s likely to grate on those few of us that remain in the same way that “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” manages to grate on us to this very day.
Regardless of how our race reaches its photo finish, it’s vital that you prepare yourself for all the possibilities. I hope you did manage to visit that Terminator ride, because only through the vital education that theme park experiences, TV series and films provide us can we hope to be prepared for the annihilation of all life on the planet. Now that’s fun — and education — for the whole family.
Thanks for writing!
