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May 20, 2011
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Friends, how excited was I half an hour ago when a combination of Sailor Jerry and garden variety divine inspiration led me to an epiphany that maybe three or four people who read this will be interested in? Very excited. And rest assured that I am about to foist my findings upon you with my trademark misguided generosity. Those of you who couldn’t care less may enjoy aspects of the humour and/or writing style, even if the content isn’t really your thing because if you can be perfectly frank you prefer the posts where I philosophize in a kind of dry wry way that hints at my underlying humanity, or rant at length about something I have no control over. That’s okay. I’m not the kind of person who tries to please everyone, and your opinions are perfectly natural and nothing to be ashamed of.

Now then, gentlemen, moving on. As you are probably aware, a certain fucky wackjob in the U.S. of A. with the joke-friendly surname Camping (e.g.: Hey Camping, is that a pants tent or is that a crucifix in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?) has predicted that May 21–that’s tomorrow, for those of you who are reading this today and for whom “today” = May 20!–is going to be the beginning of the end of the world. Call it apocalypse or call it rapture; either way I’m going to make a pun out of it momentarily.

Meanwhile, those of us who pay careful attention to the lyrics of our Notorious B.I.G. albums can’t help but recall, on the eve of the alleged Doomsday, the following tidbit from “Respect”:

 Then came the worst day, May 21st / 2:19, that’s when my momma water burst. / No spouse in the house, so she rolled herself / to the hospital to see if she could get a little help. / Umbilical cord’s wrapped around my neck; / I’m seein’ my death and I ain’t even took my first step. / I made it out, I’m bringin’ mad joy. / The doctor looked and said, “He’s gonna be a Bad Boy.”

For those without working knowledge of east-side ebonics, the meaning of this line is that May 21 is Biggie’s birthday. May 21? But that’s—


According to my interpretation of the facts, the learned Dr. Reverend Father Camping isn’t exactly wrong. While it is important to note that Christ’s second coming will not occur tomorrow, Camping is correct that May 21 will be the day of The RAPture (a.k.a. Rapocalypse) (you were warned about the puns). Biggie’s intent to return to Earth some day was made clear in the title of his final album, “Life After Death.” While I have previously hailed this album title as a stellar exemplar of a major Indo-European poetic theme appearing in modern oral poetry, I am now hailing it as a veiled prophecy.

The second coming of Biggie Smalls is at hand! And I’m not going to sit here and call myself an expert in the field of hip-hop apocalypse, but I’ll be surprised if Big Poppa doesn’t show up with a small but powerful army of resurrected rap superstars, known collectively as the “four whoresmen”: 2Pac, Nate Dogg, Big Pun (“big pun,” get it get it get it?? I love you forever, gangsta rap!), and of course Ol’ Dirty Bastard! They’ll be rollin’ through Earth blastin’ cats with their Gats, MCs spendin’ Gs, droppin’ E, makin’ Ls jump like fleas. The End Times be comin’ wit’ end rhymes. Unghh.

Throw your soul in the air if you’s a true player!

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