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May 11th, 2011

Originally published at Big Ugly Man Doll. Please leave any comments there.

There are only 10 days left ’til the end of the world, per the internet, which is the only news source worth quoting anymore and therefore it must be true.  I know, we’ve come close before , but we here at Big Ugly Central are reliably informed that this is the real deal.  We’re planning a huge May 21 End Of The World party to celebrate the Rapture, when there will be no more future, no more past, the judgment, the end of everything on earth, the end of Time.  Rain date is May 22.

So, with 10 days to go, I’m going to highlight a different thing each day that I’m NOT GONNA MISS when the freakin’ world ends.

Sure, there will be moaning and great gnashing of teeth (don’t worry if you don’t have any, I’m reliably informed that teeth will be provided for your gnashing pleasure).  Sure, there will be pain and suffering and right bad weather.  Sure, it’s the end of the world as we know it, and we feel fine.  But despite all that, despite all the good things that will end too soon come the Rapture, there’s a host of things that, let’s face it, you’re Not Gonna Miss.  Please feel free to comment with your own NGM comments as well – I’ll tally them all up and see what we’re all least likely to miss at the end!  For right now, I’m going to kick this off with:

Number 10:  Donald Trump’s Hair.

For the love of all that is holy, please God, call the Rapture early so we don’t have to see any more of that bird’s nest on the head of the Donald.  Really.  You called home the peacock on Herbert Haft’s head, you seem to have calmed the storm of Don King’s superglued coiffure, and I no longer wanna get me an Al Sharpton haircut.  If the Donald buys his way onto the Republican ticket, I worry that his legions of preppie minions will be marching in peaceful demonstration, arm in Armani-clad arm, singing “We Shall Overcomb” though the streets of New York.

So God, because I’m Not Gonna Miss the Donald’s Hair – call the Rapture on May 21.

Yep, looks like another post from the Big, Ugly Man Doll!

To be read in 2026

Originally published at Big Ugly Man Doll. Please leave any comments there.

Dear Number One Son,

I know you’re 25 now, but I’m writing to your 10-yr-old self.  I want to thank you, now, for eating that stash of Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs I’d hidden at the top of the freezer.  You probably know by now that they go on sale right after Easter, and that I can only resist for so long.  With your meds suppressing your appetite, I know that you needed the sugar way more than I did, and I’m glad you ate them.   Instead of me eating them. 


In case I forget to thank you later.

Yep, looks like another post from the Big, Ugly Man Doll!