The End of the World is Nigh
Jan 21st, 2008 by Jim Kennedy
There are certain, universally-accepted signs of the end of the world. If you’ve ever read the Bible’s Book of Revelations, you will be in no doubt when the world is ending. If, for example, you look up and behold…
“…a great red dragon, having seven heads and ten horns, and seven crowns upon his heads.
And his tail drew the third part of the stars of heaven, and did cast them to the earth: and the dragon stood before the woman which was ready to be delivered, for to devour her child as soon as it was born.”
…then you probably won’t think “Oh, Dragon’s Den is on tonight, I must set the video.”
If, later that same day, you open the front door to a woman…
“arrayed in purple and scarlet colour, and decked with gold and precious stones and pearls, having a golden cup in her hand full of abominations and filthiness of her fornication:
And upon her forehead was a name written, MYSTERY, BABYLON THE GREAT, THE MOTHER OF HARLOTS AND ABOMINATIONS OF THE EARTH.”
…you are not going to say “No thanks, I gave at the office.”
If, later again, you…
“…beheld another beast coming up out of the earth; and he had two horns like a lamb, and he spake as a dragon.”
…you are most likely at this stage not going to misinterpret this foul portent and focus on an unimportant detail such as figuring out what is the sound of a beast that spakes like a dragon. No, even the dimmest amongst us will surely realise that the game is up and it’s time to cancel the milk.
Even if you missed all those obvious signs that the time of our earthly dominion is over (and I clearly have), there is one other clue, a notice in the paper, if you will, that was foretold…
“…and, lo, when the end time has come, the wrath of the Lord shall be revealed to you in a typo in a heading in the Times, and there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”
From the print edition:
Uncorrected as of 4:00 PM in the online version, so it must be true:
So, it’s all over. With any luck I’ll see most of you tomorrow at the right hand of the Lord, failing that I’ll catch you (and Madam Editor) in the lake of fire and brimstone. Thanks for everything, it’s been a blast.
Note: I’m just having a dig at the once-great bastion of high standards, the Irish Times. It’s not my intention to belittle the tragic events reported in the article in question. Kids being killed on the roads in this country is an ongoing tragedy, and my sympathies go to the families.
So . . . 111 is the sign of the beast? I would have thought that a sign of the Trinity. Odd.
Jeffery Hodges
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Jim - you post this up and within 24 hours the world’s stock exchanges are in freefall… Ye wouldn’t have the curse of the Kennedies upon ye by any chance ??
PS those descriptions from the Book of the Apocalypse, are they Bibi Baskin or Anne Doyle ??
Ever since Finn McCool got a letter published by the Times last September http://www.forthefainthearted.com/2007/09/29/easily-pleased/
I have wondered whether the end was nigh!
Jeffrey - well, if 111 is the sign of the Trinity, then I guess the Irish Times and Trinity College are in it together, heralding the end of the world. Who would have suspected?
Seán - don’t shoot me; I’m just the piano player. As for your P.S. - shudder
Ian - a quick snoop indicates that the mythological hero does indeed live on Iona Road: http://www.eircomphonebook.ie/search/iona_Dublin/fionn_maccumhaill.html
Funny, I drive down that road most days, but I’ve never seen a great warrior in the area sucking his thumb for knowledge, but I’ll keep an eye out.
I once worked for Fionn MacCumhaill. I was a part time hotel porter in his crappy “3 star hotel” - straight up. And while I can report that the fosterlings were not able to play handball on the width of his behind, I can say that he was a bit of a bastard.
Jim,
I really thought it was a wind up!
There are two of them - which is the real one?
I’ll have to delete that post.
Ian - I wouldn’t delete it. A mythological, wide-arsed, all-knowing hero who in his later life is a bit of a bastard, runs a crappy “3 star hotel” in Drumcondra, and writes crank letters to the Times - sounds like the bones of a decent novel to me.