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We're Doomed

Yep. Sorry to have to say it, but there's really no way around it.

We're doomed. Hosed. Pining for the fjords.

We have maybe a decade or two before things really go to hell, but, honestly, it's going to get pretty bad much sooner than that. Yeah, this may sound hopeless, but who can be optimistic in a time like this?


(For those of you reading this via RSS: the main page banner has been changed to reflect this new clarity. I may get around to updating the individual item pages, but it's frankly hard to even find the motivation now.)


"Pessimism is a luxury of good times. In bad times, pessimism is a self-inflicted, self-fulfilling death sentence." -- E. Lindner

... I think somebody threw that up on Twitter not too long ago... ;)

April 1 is a good day to die, I suppose.

(I still like your original, "Open the Future: Nightmares, Disasters, Hopelessness, Scenarios.)

Sorry if I had anything to do with that!
--The Bernieator

Nice try!! I looked at the calendar earlier today. Read you tomorrow!

But you DO sound optimistic. Twenty years? We should be so lucky ;-)

Ain't nobody gettin out of here alive.

The world hadn't ended as promised.
Screaming in outrage, the mob gathered up all the doomsayers, tied them to stakes, and lit the flames.
Chants of 'Die! Die!' drowned the screams and protests. Through the smoke and haze, no-one else noticed the tall cowled figure standing beside Cascio.
"I don't understand" protested Cascio feebly, looking at his corporeal form crisping in the pyre.
"YOU'RE NOT THE FIRST." replied Death conversationally. It seemed to be what was required on these occasions.
"I mean, *why* didn't it all end? We had all the data we could have. Petabytes of it! We double checked the GEAS figures in a dozen scenarios: a DOZEN d'you hear? The margin for error just wasn't there!"
Death looked at Cascio with renewed interest.
"What else? It couldn't be avoided. There was no way we could have survived it. So... how?"
Death considered stories he'd heard when he was younger (if he ever *had* been younger). Morbid and cautionary tales of Deaths in other Universes consulting doomsayers and betting the graveyard in the futures markets. The trouble was, that nothing was separated from anything else, not really. It seemed to be something you forgot when you had discarded the personal touch of a scythe for an shiny, new, ultra-efficient combine harvester that just begged to be taken out for a spin. At that point, something about all those rotating knives seemed to get cause and effect a bit blurred.
A smile lit up the shade's face as realisation dawned "Oh! Of course!" he whispered as he faded away.
Death contemplated the spot where Cascio had been, a frown trying in vain to crease his calcified brow.

- with apologies to Pratchett

When the End of All Things happens, I want it to be drawn by Walt Simonson...

Oh! I get it!
This is all about the crab's POV!

Reaction to the NASA report on the catastrophe surrounding a 2012 repeat of the 1859 Carrington Event?

Naw! That's *seriously* scary!

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