I survived The Rapture.

Oh, you all did too?

Well, damn.

It’s pretty safe to say that the majority of the population didn’t trust Harold Camping’s prediction. It shocks me that anyone would take it so seriously that they would empty their life savings in his name, but people are bored and want to believe in something.

I mean, we don’t even trust 89-year-olds to drive. Why would we trust their apocalyptic theories?

At exactly 6 p.m. Saturday, I was enjoying a chili dog and a sweet tea for my last supper.

I figured that if the world was about to end, I wanted to go out in style with a happy stomach.

Hopefully, the earthquake wouldn’t interfere with my application of the perfect mustard line onto my dog.

I wasn’t the only one less-than-worried about my imminent demise. The world looked pretty normal Saturday.

Children were playing, grills were fired up and rusty vehicles were blasting horrible music through the neighborhood, but there were a lot more jokes.

“Man, I shouldn’t have planted all of those flowers today! I won’t be able to enjoy them after the world ends tonight.”

“I’m sitting at home alone drinking Smirnoff. I really don’t want to go out like this.”

“The end is here! Wanna make out? It could be your last chance.”

Others created left-behind scenes at the end of their driveways by carefully placing entire outfits across lawn furniture with signs reading, “Jesus was here.”

Why didn’t I think of that?

It seems like the only person not talking about Judgment Day is Camping. The President of Family Radio is trying something new: shutting his mouth.

Family Radio’s website was shut down Saturday, but reappeared Sunday. When I perused over to it, the first thing I saw was the countdown.

“Judgment Day is May 21, 2011. The Bible guarantees it! Days left: 00.”

That is probably the best joke of them all.

It’s not like these predictions are anything new. Every generation has been convinced that the end is near. Actually, this is the third one that I can personally remember.

Camping swore 1994 was the year of the end, too.

Well, that didn’t work out so well. 1994 was the year of “The Sign” by Ace of Base, though.

Coincidence?

I remember being legitimately scared of Y2K. As the crowd around me was counting down the new millennium, I bit my lip in anticipation of a chaotic black out.

Considering all the stuff our cell phones are able to do now, I guess it was pretty unrealistic to believe that technology was incapable of counting from 1999 to 2000.

But then again, I was 10 years old. That’s a pretty good excuse for being gullible. I also thought my eyes would get stuck if I crossed them too much.

I am no religious scholar, but I’ve been told that no one will know the date of the real Rapture and that it will come like a thief in the night, according to the Bible.

But how literally should the Bible be taken by Christians?

Is Jesus going to come in a black ski mask, sticking a finger through the pocket of a sweatshirt to resemble a gun, too?

That would be kind of awesome.

But there is no doubt that those who donated will be feeling like its end of their world financially. They’re going to want their money back.

I’m going to make my own prediction.

Lawsuits.