Momnesia

Things I Will Do After the Rapture/Apocalypse - National Edition

So it seems that Harold Camping, who declared the rapture was coming back in May, has moved it to Oct. 21. Let's face it: I'll probably still be stuck here on earth with some really fun but spiritually bankrupt people. So I'm revisiting the things I would like to do after the second coming. Here's the national wish list. You can read the Augusta, Ga., wish list, too. I'll follow up with national and international editions. In the meantime, I'm off to stock up on supplies. Does anyone know how long penicillin will keep?

A side note: Some of you have been kind - and delusional - enough to insist that I will not be left behind after the rapture. As evidence to the contrary, I feel I should let you know that this series of posts is going in my blog's "Family Travel" section.

Live for a while in each of these: an oceanfront mansion in Malibu, a penthouse on Central Park West, a houseboat in Puget Sound, a lagoon-access beach shack in the Keys, a glass-enclosed A-frame in Tahoe, a teepee on the plains, a Winnebago on the road, a river-adjacent cabin in Ocoee, Tenn.

Declare myself CEO of Apple, Inc. Snatch up their working prototypes. Fire myself for corporate espionage. Go all “Jerry Maguire” on my way out.

Drive an Amtrak train to New Orleans. No reason. I just always wanted to drive a train. And driving one into New Orleans seems apropos.

Learn how to play an instrument. Travel the country rocking the stages at: The Grand Ole’ Opry, Crocodile Café, The Fillmore, Red Rocks, Stubb’s, Bowery Ballroom, 40 Watt Club, The EARL, Tipitina’s.

Pick a president’s nose at Mount Rushmore.

Okay, so this might be slightly more involved than I anticipated...

Put a manhole cover on the top of Old Faithful, and see how far it shoots into the air.

Stop for a bite to eat at the Donner camp. (That was supposed to be funny, but... ew, nevermind.)

Run in a touchdown at Lambeau Field.

Parking issues will be greatly ameliorated. Actually, why don't we get rid of some folks right now?

Bust into classified documents to figure out if there really was a moon landing, aliens at Roswell and a single shooter on the grassy knoll. Also the recipe for Kentucky Fried Chicken because it pisses me off. It’s just chicken. How is it so good?

Shush myself in the Library of Congress.

Ring the Liberty Bell.

Find a clown and kill it.

Elect myself President. Declare war on Pangaea.

Invent a holiday: The National Day of Awesome is the day where no one is allowed to do anything mundane. Everything must be done on the Scale of Awesome.

Wear a new pair of socks every day.

Find a couple of old boyfriends (who will definitely also not be raptured) and hire a big heathen dude to follow them around and knock things out of their hands. You wanted some post-rapture ice cream? Smack! Picking up a book? I don’t think so. Oh, did you drop your keys? Again? It will never stop being funny.

Sit in the Lincoln Memorial’s lap.

Steal the Wright Brother’s plane from the Smithsonian and take it for a spin. Heck, steal the space shuttle and take it for a spin (note to self: actually read instruction manual this time, not like when you bought your Hyundai and couldn’t figure out how to work the stereo).

Paint KISS makeup on the statue of Strom Thurmond in Edgefield, S.C.

Find out what’s in the Alamo’s basement. And who is buried in Grant’s tomb.

See how many times I can ride The Hulk at Universal Studios Orlando before I throw up.

Blow up every Hard Rock Cafe, Planet Hollywood and Margaritaville theme restaurant I come across.

Ride through Concord, Mass., with a single lantern shouting “Jesus is coming! Jesus is coming!”

Burn every available copy of the “Left Behind” series. ‘Cause now that’s just mean.

Would you like me to read the part where heathens can suck it?

Do you have any ideas for an international edition of this list? Send them along and I'll post them in two days (with attribution, of course)!