Thursday, December 20, 2012

Survive The Mayan Apocalypse: Make a Joyful Noise

There are many theories about the end of the world.

My favorite is that on December 21, 2012, in less than two hours, the numerical anagram 12-21-12 will be chiseled via diamond-blade onto a quartz crystal that, once placed atop the pyramidion of Gaza’s Khufu Pyramid, will convert moonlight into a beam that holds the intensity of two suns, which will SHOOT from that summit and travel ‘round the wo—

Sorry… I can’t stop laughing because I just made that up.

What will actually happen tomorrow is that a great confluence of bad predictions will conjoin in what the heroine, Aughra, from The Dark Crystal called, The Great Conjunction.

It’s a Planetary Conjoining of  Human Consciousness, subdued deeply by vodka served at Apocalypse Raves tonight. The Great Conjunction is a global hangover.

There’s about as much science involved in tomorrow’s End Of Times as there is in any socio-cultural prediction. These pseudo-sciences and their ‘allegations’ are so soft, they never develop sufficiently where you can touch their fontanels. 

I say this as the mother of two psych-majors, and as a sociology-major myself.  That’s right: my undergrad work was in English Lit, but I was an English/Sociology Double Major.  This makes my own fontanel twice as soft, which is why I wear a helmet to bed.

Back when I was an ambitious sociology major, I believed in research statistics and was eager to test my own theories.  At the time, I was interested in two things that befuddled me: religion and sex.

There had already been an abundance of socio-cultural research on both topics separately, so I fashioned A Great Conjunction:  I combined the two with the following premise: empirical research will explain, socio-culturally, why there exists a range of sexual noise-making practices among people of different religions. 

I undertook a very Sociological Empirical Survey Gala Full of Research Methods Whose Results Could Be Repeated in a Double Blind, Three Blind Mice Study in which I sat at K-Mart for an hour and asked strangers four ingeniously crafted questions which in no way revealed the purpose of my study:

1.     Are you a stranger?
2.     Do you have sex?
3.     When you have sex, do you make noise?
4.     What religion are you?

The results were remarkable.  First, I discovered there were two religions:  Protestant and Catholic.

The Protestants were the ones who revolted against the guilt, dogma, and oppression imposed upon them by the Catholics.

Catholics were the ones who revolted against the Protestants by declaring them heretics and forbade the saints to have anything to do with them.  Then they set about the business of oppressing and making guilty all the Catholics who were too busy praying to revolt and who believed an impure thought would turn them into fornicating Protestants.

Historical support thus established, I shall reveal my Research Results.

Protestants do not have sex, except maybe once a year, and then they do not make noise. They close their eyes, hold their breath and wait until it is over.

Catholics have sex more often, whistling and shouting and calling by name every major league baseball player since Cro-Magnon Man first hefted a club which, in cave man days, served as the first rudimentary bat and their wives were the first ball.

Catholics educated in parochial schools will, by age 30, do such damage to their vocal cords, they must rely on party honkers, cymbals and tambourines.  If percussion instruments become routine, they move on to the woodwind family.

I realize some people might be offended by these findings.  They might consider them biased, shocking, or blatant, filthy lies.

Therefore I will present my data, with permission from the Journal of Cultural Noise-Making who agreed to publish my results based on me asking them to:

Survey Results:  K-Mart, 1994
Number of Participants:  Two

Anonymous Subject Number One:  Beatrice Langston Braxton Hicks, Duchess of the Duke of Davenport
Address:  1 Country Squire Windsor Court, East Font-La-Roy, New England
Sex:  “How dare you?”
Religion: Protestant
Age:  “Really!”

Anonymous Subject Number Two:  Mary Mae O’Deli Havlocek-Mostacelli
Address:  Apartment 1 Atop the Fifth Avenue Bar, The Bronx, New York
Sex:  “Yes!”
Religion:  Catholic
Age: 27

Question 1:  Are you a stranger?
Mae: Yes I am.
Beatrice: Please, no autographs. I’m only here to inspire the homeless.

Question 2: Do you have sex?
Mae:  I do.
Beatrice:  My bodyguards must strike you.

Question 3: Do you make noise when you have sex?
Mae:  Yes. I whistle and shout and call out the names of every major league . . .
Beatrice:  Boris, come and crush her.

Question 4: What religion are you?
Mae: I am a devout Irish Polish Roman Catholic Italian and I never have sex with Protestants because they were banned by the Pope and they can’t hear the saints shout at them while they are having sex once a year with their eyes closed holding their breath.
Beatrice:  My attorney must witness your death.

Thank you for participating.  Would you like a copy of the survey results?
You’re welcome and I’d love a copy.  Especially of Beatrice’s anonymous responses.
Beatrice:  Officer.  Read it its rights.

The point is this:  there once was a sociological theory called Naturalism, which was converted to a literary style, but only after it had become an 'Age' debated by history departments. But it meant that you can’t escape your environment and people can’t be held accountable for Merton’s Theory of Relativity. 

Which means that even if Protestants try to make noise, they will only gurgle and their partner will think they’ve gone into cardiac arrest and the mood will be shot for the year.  And if the Mayans are correct, this ‘Year’ ends in another hour -- so your only choice is to convert.  Right now.

If, however, by some unprecedented fluke, the Mayan “theory” is as dependable as my sociological work, have a GLORIOUS day tomorrow. 

And remember:  regardless whether you celebrate Chaunkah at Temple, Christmas at St. Jerome’s, or for us Congregationalists, Christmas-Pong at the Bar, know that we are all equal in God’s eyes, so Make A Joyful Noise Unto The Lord.


Today, My Blog Is A Man

Please join me this day, December 20th, in celebrating my blog’s one-month birthday! 

For those of you who have real children, do you recall how you counted your newborn’s age?  At first it was in hours.  An infant’s age can be tracked in nano-metric time this way.  In temporal micrometers.  You can see this in baby-book captions.

“Above: Little Farthquar at 10 Seconds Old! (no, that’s not his umbilical cord. Go Baby Farty!)”  “Baby Farthquar at ELEVEN HOURS!”  “HOUR 24: Going home from the hospital!”

And so it goes, page after relentless baby-book page, until you reach the finish-line where you learn that, after 175 pages, Farthquar coincidentally reached his 175th hour.

Well, it’s like that with my blog.  (Only it is 700 hours old, thank you.)

Yes.  Today my blog is a man, according to the ancient tradition of My People (the group from  Protestant Bible Debate).  But according to even ancient-er traditions handed down from The Mayans, today is the last functional day of the world.  The end is nigh*.

 (*nigh = 'tomorrow' in Mayan)

This impels me to make the most critical decision of my 54 years. 

Do I blog about bowel incontinence?  

Or making noise during sex?

Seriously, if I were assured that tomorrow, Life As We Know It [On The Internet] Ends, I might as well blog about something I find funny and not worry about offending anyone.

(I know this sounds like 'magical thinking.'  Because it is.  Instead of being sad the world ends tomorrow, I will be sad when it doesn’t.)

Are you ready?  --Flipping a coin--  

Well, bickety-bam!

The noise-making treatise wins.

I will go prepare this for you now.  God knows I’m not going out to buy green bananas or recycle plastic today.

I’ll be right back.