It is foretold in Revelations that two men in the northern wilds of Saskatchewan, incensed over the preparation of a fast food breakfast sandwich, will procure a serpent from a jacket pocket and hurl it forcefully across the counter at an innocent employee.

It is not a question of if a killer asteroid will strike our planet, devastating at the very least a city, and at most the entire race. It is just a question of how soon. The current consensus: it won't be too long now.

Between the ice storm and the Super Bowl, this week will go down in history as the worst week for tri-state commuters of all time. Early this morning, a wintry mix the likes of which has not been seen since last year hit New York City, New Jersey, and Long Island.

Rising seas, high transportation costs, its enough to make a man move to the middle of the sea.... And be surrounded by thousands of other people in a beautiful floating city.

The future of America (and, indeed, the world) will be characterized by widespread and increasingly violent skirmishes for control of the last sources of precious, precious water. Currently, we're in phase one: the legal battles.

Gone are the days when a "brand" was just some bullshit made up by bullshit consultants who charged a ridiculous amount of money for bullshit. From now on, brands are people—just like you.

"Detroit," the name of an area of ruins that was a vast manufacturing center in ancient times, is having a tough run. It's lost a million residents. It's gone bankrupt. But one thing Detroit can still be proud of: its roaming packs of wild dogs.

Justin Bieber's monkey, OG Mally, whose rejection by the pop singer and virtual exile to the depraved nation of Germany has captivated fans of both popular music and lesser primates, has begun to settle into his new adopted nation, perhaps finally ending a saga that has brought the watching world to a virtual stand-still.

This is not a "thing" that should distract anyone from their daily routine— in fact, it's probably best if you don't even read this and just continue on with your day in blissful ignorance— but, since we're here, we might as well mention that the Air Force guys in charge of launching our nation's apocalyptic nuclear missile arsenal are, like, totally incompetent.

Nathaniel Rich's second novel, Odds Against Tomorrow, traces the life of Mitchell Zukor, a young mathematician obsessed with predicting apocalyptic natural disasters. After college he finds himself working for a secretive insurance firm in New York City, where his ability to predict these cataclysms becomes his job. After his predictions are realized, Zukor is proclaimed a prophet in this new world, ravaged by natural disasters.

Now another person in China has been infected with the H7N9 strain of bird flu, previously unseen in humans.

Evan Goldberg and Seth Rogen, the dynamic screenwriting duo behind Superbad and Pineapple Express, reunite just in time for the End of Days to pen a post-apocalyptic comedy vehicle for their buddies.

NASA claims that the world isn't ending tomorrow have largely fallen deaf ears despite overwhelming evidence that it's already tomorrow in some parts of the world and those parts are still intact.

Many people now, at this point, have forwarded us the email they received from online dating service OK Cupid (screen-shotted) above, which was sent out with the subject "do you want to die alone?" which would probably just barely fall on the side of "cute" if it weren't accompanied by a graphic of an asteroid emblazoned with President Obama's face hitting the earth, in the process ripping to shreds what appears to be a rather large copy of the U.S. constitution. Hmm.

The world is ending! Thirty-three schools in Michigan are closing "in part because the Mayan calendar predicts the world will end on Friday." The New York Post is trying to help a model have sex. And yet for some reason, you're at work, instead of your bunker/place of worship/celestial energy node. But that's because you knew that Gawker would help explain to you why the world isn't ending tomorrow, and why everyone else thinks it is.

William Tapley is a lot of things: "Third Eagle of the Apocalypse," "Co Prophet of the End Times," and talented songwriter.

Though our grandparents are often referred to as "The Greatest Generation," we, too, will make our mark in history as the generation that endured merciless war without end. First, the War on Drugs; then, the War on Terror; and now—everyone, please load your weapons—the War on Bees.

California, the doomed and sun-scorched absurdity ruled by Bloods, Crips, Mickey Mouse, and Arnold Schwarzenegger, will sink into the thirsty lips of the merciless ocean by century's end, according to scientists. The time to flee is now.

The recent global economic collapse combined with the cravenness of the banking industry and the general cheez-brained of the American public have made it all but inevitable that eventually the general public would simply start hoarding their few remaining valuables in iron boxes built into their bedframes and/ or outhouses. Some in the safe industry are "reporting sales increases of as much as 40 percent from a few years ago." But what are you people keeping in there?

Not to alarm you, at all, but in the near future our globe will be a hive of warring city-states in which armies driven mad by thirst slaughter one another over the final trickles of our parched world's last dying streams. That's what the government thinks, at least. Are you ready? You better get ready, my friends.