I have never thought the Mayan end-of-the-world thing was any more credible than then fifteen score other times various people have declared that the World Will End On X Date. In fact, whenever anyone brings up the topic of the Mayan 2012 prophecy it makes me kind of mad. It’s a sort of Magical Negro/Noble Savage trope. I’ve seen people who mock some backwoods preacher for announcing that The Rapture Will Occur On May 11th, but then take the Mayan thing seriously because, I guess, the Mayans have some Mystical Corner On The Rightness Market Because They’re Magical. I dislike elevation and glorification of any group of people because it’s racist. Sure, it’s a “good” racist technically because they’re being praised. But it’s still stereotyping because of an ethnic commonality. How is The Mayans Are Magic any less racist than any of the negative stereotypes about any maligned racial group? It’s not.
But here we are a couple of weeks away from Magic Mayan Doomsday and everything here got really weird at the middle of last week and only now does it feel less weird. It’s as if everyone I know entered some permanent state of full moon psychosis and the month of December was dedicated to Sheer Lunacy.
Of course, we’re supposed to get our new puppy on 19 December, so I guess we’ll get to enjoy him for a day or so before the world ends. I guess if you’re going to go ‘poof’, it’d be tough to do any better than to vanish during the happiness of playing with a puppy. For those of you who missed the Facebook announcement because you weren’t hanging out on the Internet the day before Thanksgiving, congratulations on having a productive Wednesday. Also, that’s the day I announced that we’re adopting a third dog; he’s a male Bernese Mountain Dog. We were the last to turn in a deposit so we had ‘last pick’. Which is technically not a “pick” because if you aren’t choosing between at least two options it’s not a choice. And I was fine with our non-choosing choice because that meant that God/Fate/The Universe was going to select our child for us. Kind of like when you’re pregnant or adopting a human. Then the Sheer Lunacy (see, this is on topic!) infected one of the other pet-getters and they moved their deposit to another litter. And we now have a choice. I still don’t know how I’m going to choose between Uber-Cute and Uber-Cute.
I found out yesterday that I inherited a small amount of money from my grandmother. Actually, technically my Mom inherited some and decided to give each of her four children a portion. That was majorly generous and I’m incredibly touched. This weekend we’re going to use a bit of that money to get an artificial Christmas tree–something we’ve not had in decades. I’m hoping that the lights and the green and the tradition of it all will go a ways toward offsetting all the weirdness. At least I’ll have a week to enjoy it before the meter runs out on us all.