Monday, May 23, 2011

The Crapture

The end of the world as knew it...Yeah. You felt it, didn’t you?

You felt the beginning of the end.

The Great Endgame has begun. Our days are numbered. Numbered, in fact, as if some great Brainiac from the past had calculated how many days our planet took to fulfil a complete orbit around our sun and then broke this incredible number up into periods and weeks and days and then assigned these days a number so that we could keep track of where we were in the big countdown to what I have been instructed to call – The Crapture.

I ain’t telling you who instructed me. Let’s just say it involved me, a mountain and some stone tablets. Or was that tablets that made me stoned? I can’t remember.

It’s not important. What is important is that The Crapture has begun and it will affect everybody. Every dirt sucking sinner. Every the-sun-shines-outta-my-ass righteous dude.

E.V.E.R.Y.B.O.D.Y.

You got that?

‘Cos I don’t recall reading a clause that says bloggers are excused so you can wipe that self satisfied smug look off your face. You’re gonna get your shit and then some just like everybody else.

So. What are the signs of The Crapture? I know you’re all wondering.

Well, they ain’t so hard to read.

I’m talking oil famine. I’m talking global economic meltdown on... er... a global scale. Hell. Maybe even galactic. I wouldn’t be buying shares in the moon right now even if I had the money.

I’m talking times when the rich and famous are given the tools to cover up their dirty deeds by buying bits of paper from lawyers that prevent the likes of you and me even talking about the bits of paper they’ve bought from their lawyers.

I’m talking about times when the people we richly employ to safeguard and maintain the infrastructure of our societies offload the maintenance back onto us under the guise of The Big Society.

Or as it is called in Be’elzebub’s Old Soul Farmer’s Almanac, The Big Shit Sandwich. ‘Cos we’ll all be taking a big bite out of that one, I can tell you.

And there ain’t nowhere to run people. There ain’t nowhere to hide.

All you can do is hope that you’re one of the righteous and not one of those scum-sucking sinners who are going to be spending an eternity roasting in the devil’s own AGA.

And how will you know which you are?

Well, people, that’s easy to divine.

The sinners, the scum, the rotting festering pusillanimous sonsofbitches who are gonna burn in hell will, during the time of The Crapture, have power over you. They will have power to lord it over you. To direct your days. To work you hard. To make you dance for the bread of life. To whup your ass when you fail your annual appraisal or mess up a pitch. To beat you with the rod of humiliation when you try and waste as much time at work as you can by going to the toilet every half hour and then pretending to be constipated when you get there. These people will hold up a wage packet above you – just out of your reach – and make you beg for it.

‘Cos it’s a foregone conclusion that the righteous are gonna find The Crapture hard to get through. But you gotta consider it a little test. A way to temper your resolve.

You gotta see it through, brothers and sisters. You gotta bear with it. ‘Cos the good times there are a-coming.

Early retirement. A decent pension. Medical breakthroughs which will not only see you live longer but will actually see you living life to the full longer.

OK.

I’m talking crap. I’m just trying to make you feel better.

There ain’t none of that shit.

All you got is the shit sandwich.

Tuck in, people, and shut your whining.

It’s called The Crapture for a reason.

Deal with it.



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32 comments:

The Sagittarian said...

Haha, well posted. I have to say "What are the odds of an earthquake in NZ anyway eh?" Thats a question I am quallified to answer as it happens. We did have a nice shake just after midnight of the Crapture and we all cheered cos it was only a 3.4!
Anyway, as it appears there are still quite a few of us naughty ones left I suggest we make the most of it....meet you at the bar!

Steve said...

Amanda: make mine a whiskey on the rocks. In fact anything on the rocks will do. I can swallow anything these days. ;-)

Being Me said...

I'm suitably scared. I even read that with a Bible Belt/America's heartland accent in my head. I'm a goner.

Steve said...

Being Me: when those flames start licking at the soles of your feet, you just check out the level beneath you... 'cos I'll be there looking up. ;-)

P.S. Meant nothing pervy about that, by the way.

Wylye Girl said...

It has started Steve, it really has. On Judgement Day I lost TV, internet and telephone all in one go. It was to stop me contacting the outside world to tell them what was going on. A communications blackout was just the first step.

Well, either that or Virgin Medi(ocre)a had a fault on their network......

Steve said...

Wylye Girl: the clue is in the name. Virgin Media. Virgin. They are going to give birth to something unholy, I tell you! Unholy! The spawn of the devil! Curse Branson and his impious beard of doom!

Phil said...

Dunno what church you drink at Steve, but May the 21st has been and gone – again – and it was yet another ‘no show’ like all the other 3248 apocalyptic ‘no shows’ before it. Crapture is such a bum load of pants. It’s just a cheap excuse to get completely mullered and laid on a regular basis for the devout atheist lush clubs on the outside chance that one day the world might actually blow itself up tomorrow and catch everyone by surprise. Which would be a real pisser if all you had left in the cupboard was half an inch of crème de menthe and a bad back.

Convert to this new age rage called Islam and their cute lunar calendar, it’s really cool. Every year they all take a month off for a carnival of epic feasting and partying. Everyone stocks up their fridges, sleeps during the day, then they all come out to play and gorge themselves stupid after dark. And they’re all so polite and civil to each other too. My local mosque mates call it ‘Ramadamadingdongtime’. It’s really starting to catch on down here. They know everything you ever need to know about breeding goats too. I was amazed.

Steve said...

Phil: ‘Ramadamadingdongtime’? Isn't that something that John Travolta and the T Birds sang at the end of Grease? Plainly I need to watch this film again - here's me thinking it was about high school sex when actually it was a hotbed of Islam. A month partying you say? Sounds great. Do they do fancy dress as well?

Kelloggsville said...

I folded my clothes on the front lawn and stood naked for a while but the beige middle age syndrome persisted even naked and after being ignored except by a spraying cat I decided to call it a day. Let me know the next date I need to do it because it was quite liberating really.

Steve said...

Kelloggsville: naked? Do you really think there's a GAP store in Heaven? Mind you, there might be one in the other place...

Löst Jimmy said...

I blew all my wages on this latest Doomsday, looks like I'm broke again and still shackled to my earthly coil. Bah!

Steve said...

Löst Jimmy: hope you blew your money on something long lasting...

Heather said...

Seems that life will be carrying on much the same as ever despite yet anothers dooms day warning. Has anyone found Harold whats-his-face that started all this off since the 'rapture'?

Nota Bene said...

We were stuck in a traffic jam at the MOMENT. And I thought, what a crap time to die.

Personal JC said...

I think this Harold Camping & his Rapture rubbish about sums up how man has continually modified religion to justify his owns needs and not just with christianity but with a few other religions as well.They all have been constantly rewritten into something which could have brought great good into this world but unfortunately has been abused to their own ends.BTW Mr Camping Christianity never gave a date for this otherwise how would it have been a test of faith?
P.S. I also don't adhere to the notion of telling people what to believe, it's a personal choice.A good soul is a good soul in any faith & my God isn't someone who takes pleasure in vengeance or is short of a bob or two either.

Steve said...

Heather: I think Harold has locked himself in his room with a Do Not Disturb sign hung on the handle. Too late really. I think he was disturbed a long time ago.

Nota Bene: you'd prefer to be speeding?!?

Personal JC: your God sounds like my kinda man. P.S. Does JC stand for anything Messianic and are you a fan of Depeche Mode?

London City Mum said...

Hmmm. I'm still here. And all I had to deal with on the 21st was the aftermath of the school camping night.

Ho hum. As you were then.

LCM x

the fly in the web said...

I gather that firms set up in business to look after your dog or cat once you had been 'beamed me up, Scotty' in the rapture moment...I bet they took upfront payment and have now skedaddled with the loot.

In case you are looking for an alternative source of income, you could try offering this service before the Mayan Calendar crap hits the fan next year.

Dumdad said...

I buy my overpriced shit sandwiches at Crap A Manger. They're shit but it's all we've got. What's my point? There ain't one. "We're doomed all doomed", as Private Frazer was wont to utter.

Trish @ Mum's Gone to... said...

I'll get started on the packing. What's the luggage allowance?

Steve said...

LCM: I think the school camping night may be what triggered it. Something about a rent in space and time. But that might be just something I heard on Doctor Who.

The fly in the web: I might specialize in goldfish. It'll save on the paperwork. First come, first serve when it's time to hand them back. Who's going to know?

Dumdad: I prefer to go upmarket at skidMarks & Spencer but at the end of the day, shit is shit and tastes like shit. Though apparently a Mexican has real heat to it.

Trish: anything you like provided it fits through the eye of a needle.

Martin Lower said...

I laughed like a drain at this! I like the way everyone's poking fun at this now, as the 21st May 2011 is history. Mocking beforehand, might just have been pushing your luck somehow.....

Gorilla Bananas said...

So the problem here is that you're constipated while other people are shitting on you. Don't strain on the loo, whatever you do, or The Crapture will turn into The Rupture. Just find a toadstool to hide under like a hairy forest gnome.

Steve said...

Martin: it always pays to hedge your bets. Especially with the big players. I was actually crossing my fingers as I typed this post.

Gorilla Bananas: constipation is good. There is far too much diarrhea in the world...

MOTHER OF MANY said...

I was quite happy really there was no Crapture,being a sinner and all that but it was having to do all the housework on Sunday which rocked my world because I didn't bother doing housework Saturday because Crapture was coming!

Steve said...

Amanda: that's the worst thing about it. All that money I borrowed from the banks thinking I'd never have to pay it back... wonder if the Government can give me a bail out?

Mark said...

Now the really sad thing about this topical and humorous post is your joke about...

...early retirement. A decent pension. Medical breakthroughs... living life to the full longer.

Those are reasonable and attainable goals and yet no one has that belief any more.

Steve said...

Mark: it is sad. Because without the hope of those things what the hell are we all striving and working our fingers to the bone so hard for?

autumnraven said...

Apparently Mr. Camping is now saying we all gonna die on October 21st. Go ahead and mock...I'm sure if someone is planning on personally destroying the world at some point in time but hasn't told a soul when that they are mocking too...wouldn't you? Oh wait we aren't gods...but we were made in his image or something like that...whatever. Work sucks.

By the way...Personal JC LOVE what you said. :)

Steve said...

Autumnraven: the only sure things in life are death, taxes and work sucking. As for October 21st... I'm already planning what to buy my family for Christmas.

Suburbia said...

Ah, religion, you've gotta laugh haven't you?!

Steve said...

Suburbia: it's either that or crying.