I spent the last few days saying goodbyes and then, as 6pm approached yesterday, I stood outside, arms outstretched, waiting, waiting, worrying that maybe I was passed over once again. Forced to consider an ugly proposition: maybe I am not among the 'chosen ones.' Maybe I didn't believe enough. Maybe I was going to live out my last days as an extra on the set of the greatest natural disaster story ever told, tentatively titled Terminated.

Then the hours ticked by and I felt the truth alight upon me: someone's got their math wrong again. Doomsday prophet Harold Camping might be a helluva church leader but he's sorely lacking at futures equations.

And our savior still hasn't arrived. Obama's a bust, Oprah's splitting, Assange's been handcuffed, and Bill Clinton's giving dour speeches to college graduates.

God dammit. No pun intended.