By Grant McGee: CNJ columnist
Last Saturday was supposed to be the beginning of the end of the world, according to a television preacher from California and his followers.
I remember another time when some people thought the world as we knew it would come to an end. It was 1997 when some “New Age” folks predicted our world would change from one made of matter to one made of antimatter.
There would be three days of darkness. All machinery would stop working, except for water systems. We would emerge on the other side converted to antimatter. Well, everyone except those who had too many alpha particles attached to them.
Alpha particles were negative/angry thoughts and if you had too many the three days of darkness would be illuminated by folks burning up like Fourth of July sparklers.
Everyone was told to boost their good, positive thoughts to eliminate alpha particles.
At the time I was living in Bisbee, Ariz. Weekly seminars on this stuff were conducted. I had nothing else to do on Tuesday nights so I went.
Changing into antimatter would’ve been interesting because antimatter didn’t deteriorate like matter does, according to the seminar teachers. So one could live forever, walk through walls and stuff like that.
The expected date came and went. One by one folks stopped coming on Tuesday nights. I packed it in when one of the attendees said the change was still coming because her vacuum cleaner and toaster were developing intelligence and rebelling against her.
I remember kicking back with friends and telling them about the stuff discussed in the meetings.
“What do you think the end of the world would really be like?” I asked my pals.
There was this long silence. You could’ve heard a pin drop.
Sideways glances were exchanged.
Finally, one of my friends spoke up.
“I think everyone would be really, really thirsty.”
Hmm, something to ponder.
Grant McGee is a long-time broadcaster and former truck driver who rides bicycles and likes to talk about his many adventures on the road of life.
Contact him at: firstname.lastname@example.org