It’s the end of the world as we know it, and I feel…pretty good.

Think about it. Look out your window. Read the headlines in all the newspapers. The end is near. But don’t worry. You still have enough time to run to the liquor store.

I know you’re all cheezin‘ out on me right now. You’re all saying “Dan’s lost it. He’s outta there. The pressure of producing a Pulitzer Prize-calibur condom, excuse me, column every Monday has finally driven him to insanity. He swore he would never, ever, not even on the darkest day, write about something really serious.”

Well, don’t get your panty hose in an uproar. I used to think the end of the world was a serious thing, too. It’s not. It’s a chance to do all the things we’ve ever wanted to do but couldn’t because of certain little barriers that held us back (laws, certain death, humiliation, she said ‘no’, etc.).

And don’t tell me the end isn’t near. I’ve seen the writing on the bathroom wall. You see it, don’t you? It’s right there above that toilet, sandwiched between “Student Association senators make better lovers,” and “Why are you laughing? The joke is in your hand.”

What it says is: “Hey Stupid, look at the signs. The weather has gone goofy. It’s chilly for a week, then it gets warm for a few days. It starts getting really cold. All of the sudden, we’ve got a nice little Thursday night blizzard. Then it gets warm again. Sun bathing on Halloween?

“And what about that earthquake on the West Coast? Maybe California is getting ready to drop into the ocean. That’s OK with me, as long as Rosanne Barr goes with it.

“And disease is running rampant. Try to tell me that you or someone you know has not been deathly ill in the past week or so. Sure.

“The campus is looking pretty strange lately, too. What’s this? They’re building a pyramid on the Holmes Student Center? What’s next, a sphinx lying next the East Lagoon? King Tut’s tomb on display in Diversions?

“What’s with the Monday columnist for The Northern Star? Geez, they must have really felt sorry for him to give him his own column. All he ever does is glorify booze (Isn’t that a wonderful word?) and fill his column with sexual innuendos. He makes NIU seem more like a cross between Club MTV and Romper Room than the fine, scholastic institution that it is. Now tell me that isn’t a sign.”

Do you believe me now? Good. It’s time to formulate a plan of action. Let’s figure we’ve got until about finals week. I say we just go for it. “Go for what?” you say. Go for everything.

Look at it this way. If you have no choice but to run into a brick wall, you don’t just want to smack it. You want to run into it like a freight train.

Let’s make our last few days and nights here the loudest, raunchiest, sleeplessest (Sorry if I spit on you) days and nights ever imaginable. Let’s show the man upstairs how much we’re going to miss it all.

But what if, by some miracle , we’re all spared? So we wasted our semester partying our butts off instead of studying. So we’re all kicked out of school. At least we still have each other.

Just come and find me. Somebody still has to watch out for signs of Doomsday. I’ll be the one waiting for Huskie Stadium to be swallowed up by the earth.