POINT: Since this year is our last, anarchy is pertinent
There's no longer any need to deny it: the Mayan calendar said this year is humanity's last, and there's a good chance it will be.
Arguing is futile. What the calendar says goes. What we as a society need to decide next is how to handle the goings-on of the next several months. Should we file orderly into the inferno with our hands crossed, halos shining, our eyes glinting?
That's anticlimactic. Humans are dramatic beings. We can do better than that. Instead of leaving this planet in a whisper, we should be leaving it with a wallop. Instead of kissing its face, we should be banging its gong with a steel mallet.
Why not have one big Facebook event: "End of the World Party." Starts: Now. Ends: December 21, 2012. Invited: 7 billion.
Nobody would have to worry about the cops. I can see it now: A single car pulls up to the party and two of them step out.
"Alright, kids, break it up," they'd say. Seven billion would glance back for a second before getting back to the serious work of dancing.
And eventually, they would. That's when the party would really start. Once the law is on your side, you can justify anything, no matter how immoral or otherwise illegal.
Next, all there would be to do is see how wild we all can get. With anarchy as the new political system, every possibility is opened up. Of course, we couldn't live like that forever, but we'd only have to make it to Dec. 20 before the sun swallows us up.
But wouldn't this chaotic party be more about giving in to the urges we've been fighting for centuries? This is an opportunity to give our collective self-control a much-needed break and let the visceral impulses take control.
Get buck wild. Drop out of school — you won't need a degree.
Quit your job. Your money's no good here anymore.
The only thing that should matter anymore is winner-takes-all poker where everybody cheats and everybody wins.
By the time we leave this planet, the world should look like a frat house after a Friday night: red plastic cups, toilet paper and vomit strewn on the streets like mud. It looks rough, but in the air we leave behind us a general agreement: Great party, bros.
And if the Mayan prophecy turns out to be wrong?
Maybe we shouldn't think about that too much. Party on.
