The end is far away. Except for you.

Free market forces will be subverted by the forces of the free market.

He who dares, loses first.

Planetary Emperor Gilgamesh III will select Continental governors based upon the results of an international arm-wrestling tournament. Resentment will lead to a resistance movement composed of rebels with poor upper body strength.

A direct link will be discovered between “partying like a rockstar” and “going through a pathetic downward spiral like a rockstar”.

A creationist biologist will commit suicide.

Uwe Boll will direct a Mrs. Pac-Man film before he leaves this world.

The existence of the Illuminati will be confirmed by a wanted ad searching for a new butler.

In the end, you can blame Alice.

Genghis Khan and Gandhi will be reincarnated as Siamese twins. A sitcom will be made immediately.

An intern for The Onion will receive a Pulitzer without a trace of irony.

Transformers 3 will consist entirely of robots walking on screen, reading excerpts of “Song of the South”, and exploding.

A creationist archeologist will commit suicide.

You can, in fact, stop the beat, the music, the Juggernaut, and the A-Train. The status of moving the blob remains unclear.

Alien invaders will be shocked to discover the first species to invent the atomic bomb before a cure for cancer.

The Boston Institute of Mad Science will not come under fire for training a generation of maniacs, but for turning a blind eye to student-teacher fraternization.

Senate popularity will suffer after accepting the goal of “blood for the blood god” as a faith-based initiative.

My time at Princeton will end in either world domination or abject failure.

The Deadpool vs. Goofy crossover will end in a fully choreographed dance number.

A creationist with a semblance of logic and common sense will commit suicide.

Being an offensive internet humorist will be placed on level with sainthood.

The situation is under control.