December 26, 2011

Saturday night begins the year of the Mayan apocalypse. Time to get your ducks in a row … just in case. It’s true the Mayans did’t invent the wheel or gunpowder or the Internet, but they did come up with the concept of zero and they estimated the solar year to be just slightly longer than 365 days. Chronologically, they deserve at least as much respect as Pope Gregory XIII. Human sacrifice? OK, yeah … mistakes were made. So the Mayans tossed a few slaves into the city water supply every now and then to bring in a good maize crop. Don’t judge. Can you say with absolute certainty that your Whopper doesn’t contain the tip of some Mexican immigrant’s index finger? For all you know, your Whopper isn’t just made by immigrants; it’s made of them. How’s that for transubstantiation? Body of Jesus indeed. Really, how were the ancient Mayans supposed to know that the corn gods wouldn’t be appeased by the blood of innocents? Judging by stone carvings and a few surviving maize scrolls (you call it corn), it would appear that Mayan gods had a serious blood fetish, and they were particularly fond of piercing – tongues … ears … genitalia. That makes sense. There’s a lot of blood down there … at least on warm days and during full moons. And, if you’re cursed with immortality, you’re bound to resort to a little kinkiness after a while. Imagine if Louis XIV had lived a few extra centuries. Rest assured that in that amount of time he would have dreamed up a kink that would have rivaled the Turducken in hedonistic depravity. All the Mayan gods were asking for was an occasional drowned slave and blood drippings from ritualistic piercings. Is that so wrong? Fortunately, like drunken sailors on shore leave, the Mayans were allowed to be seriously F’d up before they got their Prince Alberts (which the Mayans just called “Ouch!”). They smoked wild tobacco and ate mushrooms and peyote (which they also soaked up through enemas because it’s quicker, and after all, what’s an enema when you’re about to spear your foreskin with a stingray spine?). They also licked toads, but before you get on your high horse, make a short list of things you wouldn’t lick if you knew they would deaden the pain of an impending dick piercing. If you’re like most people, you probably wrote down “baboon’s ass” and then scratched it out. Yeah, it’s that short. As long as you’re making lists, now might be a good time to put together a Mayan Apocalypse Bucket List. For instance, if you always wanted a Prince Albert but have been procrastinating, 2012 could be your year. However, you might want to put that on the list right after “morphine enema.” Just sayin’. Whether 2012 is the end of days or just 365 more in an endless succession of days that stretches through the eons, the new year is a good time to reflect, take stock, and plan for the future. Right now though, it’s still the old year, and it’s time to party like the world is about to end. A good place to do that on New Year’s Eve is at the 29th Street Ballroom, where an interesting assortment of local bands will be re-creating the musical magic of the year 1977 by performing songs from bands of the era. Here’s a brief rundown: Party Lines with Johnny Walker will be the Talking Heads, Jason McNeely and members of Flesh Lights will be Cheap Trick, members of Gospel Truth will be Suicide, members of Lola Cola will be the Runaways, Bobby Jealousy will be Blondie, Roky Moon & Bolt will be David Bowie, the Bad Lovers will be the Dead Boys, and the Shivery Shakes will be Television. Wow. That lineup just might be the hallucinogenic cultural enema that precedes the Prince Albert of the Mayan Apocalypse.