Until The Next Rapture

“Keep dancing ‘til the world ends” – Britney Spears

According to Harold Camping, Britney would only have to until 6 p.m. May 21, 2011, to keep dancing. Yet the world did not end, and thus the dance-a-thon continues.

I spent Doomsday 2011 at Target with my mother, eating a Ritter Sport chocolate bar and reading Facebook Mobile reactions to the most obvious outcome since Mariah Carey’s “Glitter” tanked at the box office.

What I learned about myself: I have witty friends. Reactions to the non-raptureness of the Rapture ranged from the angry (“Camping made people kill themselves in fear! WE MUST STOP THIS MAN!”) to the apathetic (“Meh. It’s 6:01. Chili’s, anyone?”) to the humorous (“Guys, Heaven has SURROUND SOUND!”) to the just plain ridiculous (“I keep hearing Australia disappeared, is it true?”).

Alas, all the Rapture was able to offer was a few good laughs, scattered religious debates and the knowledge that, try as they might, no one can assign mathematical values to things that aren’t numbers. As it stands now -- a full three days since we were all supposed to meet our maker -- life goes on as seamlessly as it has after every other Doomsday in history.

But what if it hadn’t?

 Had the world truly ended on the 21st, we would never have known whether John Rich beat Marlee Matlin on Celebrity Apprentice, and we wouldn’t have had to witness Gary Busey so adamantly hocking his mass-produced plastic kite (for sale, naturally, on a Website that specializes in frozen steak).

We wouldn’t have to hear the uninspired song choices of Lauren Alaina and Scotty McCreery on the American Idol finale, and would (thankfully) be spared yet another “Yo dawg, YOU’RE IN IT TO WIN IT” from Randy Jackson. (We would also forget completely about Randy Jackson’s existence, which may have been the Rapture’s only positive accomplishment.)

Post-Rapture, 90 percent of everyone I know would explode in the frustration of not knowing how the Rays performed overall, and the other 9 percent would follow suit because they’d never see the cast of Broadway’s The Book of Mormon get away with performing “Hasa Diga Eebowai” on national television. (The remaining 1 percent is that weird breed of person who likes both.)

Had Camping’s prediction come true, the long-standing rule of celebrity deaths would have been broken (pop- culture-challenged types: they die in threes) as Osama Bin Laden and “Macho Man” Randy Savage do not constitute a trio, though one could argue that “everyone on earth” might count as the third “person.” (It did in that one Nicolas Cage movie. But that also had glowy-faced aliens.)

One could also argue that Osama Bin Laden is not so much a celebrity as he is a public/historical/political figure head, and to that I would say: his death tied with Haley Reinhart’s (*extremelyunfairriggedandbiased*) Idol elimination in sheer number of Tweets. Let that speak for itself.

Imagine spending a whole eternity in heaven/hell/purgatory/wherever you see yourself going when/if the Rapture occurs and not knowing the answers to life’s most important questions: Will we ever pay off the National Debt? Will gas eventually drop below $3.50 a gallon? Which of Sarah Palin/Michelle Bachmann would make a worse president? Are Harry and Pippa gonna do it, and if so, will Kate pop out a baby just to rub the line of Royal Succession in Harry’s face? Who will be the new boss on The Office? Will the All-Stars cycle of America’s Next Top Model be worth watching since Jade Cole “declined immensely”? How many cities will have Real Housewives spinoffs before Bravo finally oversaturates itself? Will Google become a sentient being? What comes after Blu-Ray? Will they ever re-release Steel Magnolias in Digital 3D?

Will we ever stop asking questions?

I, for one, am glad we are still here. The fact I am not a religious person in no way detracts from my humanity, and I respect the beliefs of everyone provided the respect is mutual: Believe what you will.

I just . . . I was not ready for last Saturday to be the end.

Or next Saturday.

Or the next thousand Saturdays.

Because, ultimately, all of these questions will be answered by December, and I want to see what my kids will be asking at their first Rapture.