If you live in Los Angeles, you’ve probably seen the billboards that have been springing up all over town like weeds that threaten to overtake and destroy your carefully tended garden (yes, I’ve been gardening a.k.a. pulling weeds all day so, no, I will not come up with a more original metaphor):

Yup, it seems that Christ is returning on May 21, 2011 (or next Saturday for those non-Asians reading this who aren’t good at math). According to the fine Christian folks sponsoring the billboards, the Bible “guarantees” this date as basically the moment of the long-awaited Rapture when true believers will be whisked off to Heaven to live in eternal bliss while I guess the rest of us fry in hell.

Basically, these true believers have calculated this date through “number clues” in the Bible:

In one clue, the site explains that because Noah was given seven days’ warning before the flood, and “a day is as a thousand years,” mankind has precisely 7,000 years from the flood to achieve salvation. This is one of the more straightforward of the site’s proofs. The others grow progressively more convoluted.

For example, the time from the Rapture to the end of the universe is determined to be 153 days, because “when we see that number we immediately think of the 153 fish of John 11:21. Also, the number 153 breaks down into 17 x 3 x 3. The number 17 signifies God’s kingdom and the number 3 signifies God’s plan.”

The site advocates “using a significant number’s multiple of 1,000 and adding 23″ as a method of determining the date of the Rapture in relation to the supposed dates of the flood, the Crucifixion, birthdays of kings and various Levitical feasts.

Now, I have no idea what any of that even means, but I do know this—if the Rapture does indeed come next Saturday, I’m probably going to hell. I figure I could spend the next week reading to blind children or building toilets in Africa to prevent a gruesome fate, but who are we kidding? One week of good deeds isn’t going to cancel a lifetime of sin.

Nope, it’s probably best that I just accept what’s to come and spend the next week having sex with all the ladies I’ve been meaning to have sex with, but haven’t gotten around to on account of doing stuff that seems kind of pointless now, like writing for this blog. So if any of the following women I’ve listed below are reading this (and I know you are so don’t be shy), please contact me immediately as time is now of the essence:

Jessica Biel, Jessica Alba, Jessica Simpson, basically any chick in Hollywood named Jessica, Maggie Q, Salma Hayek, a pre-Tom Cruise Katie Holmes, Sarah Palin and Michelle Malkin (in a “fair and balanced” three-way, of course), the members of that one all-girl K-Pop group—you know–that ones with that one song, my fourth grade teacher, the hapa-looking model in the lacy black bra and panties in the K-mart circular from the July 1998 Sunday L.A. Times, Katy Perry, the Asian chick in a UCLA sweatshirt who was walking her dog around Silver Lake reservoir last Sunday at 10:45 AM, Zoe Saldana, Phoebe Cates (wearing her red bikini from Fast Times at Ridgemont High), any incarnation of Betty Rubble except Rosie O’ Donnell from the 1994 live-action film, my friend Billy’s mother (Whas up, Billy? Say hi to your mom for me), the counter girl at the Burbank Baja Fresh who served me my Diablo shrimp burrito, the chick from the T-Mobile commercials, Betty White (hey, if the world is ending, I want to be able to say I hit that), Hilary Clinton (same reason as Betty White)…fuck it, why am I even bothering to make a list? If you’re female and the word “no” is absent from your vocabulary, just shoot me an email. I’m not going to be picky with the apocalypse breathing down my neck.

Well…now, that I think about it…I’ve never been with a dude before. If the world is going to end and I’m heading for hell, seems a shame to face that without being able to say I fucked a guy at least one time, right? OK, let’s do it, I’m opening it up to the men too. Hmm, I wonder when my fellow Offender Anderson is getting back in town?

Anderson being his bad ass self.