As a writer of crappy science fiction, on the whole I spend a lot of time thinking about our bitter end, probably more so than your average paranoid psychotic. That being said, I do so enjoy it when the doom is convincing, backed by science, and, apparently, six months away from being on our doorstep. It really makes all other bullshit totally irrelevant. Not to mention, it's just really fun to think about. There, I said it.
So here it is, guys. My current obsession: DEATH BY METHANE
http://pangea.stanford.edu/research/Oceans/GES205/methaneGeology.pdf
For those who lack the necessary reading comprehension/attention span combo required for scientific research papers, this article hits all of the salient points in a delightfully over-dramatized fashion, for maximum fear-mongering:
http://www.helium.com/items/1882339-doomsday-how-bp-gulf-disaster-may-have-triggered-a-world-killing-event
Allow me to elucidate the Methane Extinction Theory: Basically, there is a possibility that in six month’s time, we are all going to be killed by a big wet geological fart. Much like my lower intestine, our planet is a gassy, gassy bitch and is going to let slip the mother of all toots, devastating the environment with a poisonous effluvium--you know, like farts often do. This little faux-pas will set in motion a disastrous chain of events, beginning with death of countless marine species and a tsunami that will eradicate the gulf coast. Now, I know that’s a hoot, but get this: massive quantities of methane from the ocean floor will mix with oxygen in our atmosphere, only to be ignited, in proper college dude fashion, by errant lightning bolts. Observe, a vision of the future!
As far as Doomsday scenarios go, death by Earth flatulence is a new personal favorite. I cannot help but think unaccountably of Terry Pratchett or Douglas Adams. It’s just too fantastically absurd to be true. Leave it to humanity to perish ridiculously.
Possible solution: A FUCK TON OF GAS-X? Can I have my Nobel Prize now?
You know, I'm strangely comfortable with living on the cusp of destruction. It’s been a personal dream of mine to live to see the end of days. What a hell of a time! There is something marvelous about the perpetual anticipation that worldwide catastrophe is imminent, along with the certainty of one’s own demise. It really liberates me to continue living terribly. And as I sit here drinking a six-dollar coffee that will probably give me adult-onset diabetes, I think, fuck, let’s blow this world to perdition. Six-dollars for a fucking coffee? And it's got soy milk in it. Seriously. I deserve to die first.
Look friends, we're all going to have to go sometime. What better way to go than with the utter destruction of everything you have ever known and loved? They say you can’t take it with you, but in this case, they’d be a bunch of filthy liars.
So embrace the freedom that no tomorrow brings: eat the WHOLE bag of Doritos.
