The funniest thing about that whole incident is when the commercials came during the “invasion”.
“Oh my God! The Martians are vaporizing people left and right!! And now, a word from Campbell’s Soup…”
Would I be out of line if I went out into the front yard and yelled BRING IT ON?
Only if you hang a “Mission Accomplished” banner on your house.
Only if you hang a “Mission Accomplished” banner on your house.
:smack:
I’d find the hottest woman I could and start banging her.
Hell, I wouldn’t even have to ask permission; we’re all going to die anyway.
I would think to myself “Boy, you think science would have found out about this years ago”, because they would have. Then I’d masturbate. But since the end of the world was comming, I would get off in a dog’s mouth.
I’ll tell you one thing- I’m not going outside! I can see the streets would be filled with maniacs, drunks and rapists.
I’d stay in, order a pizza - and tip the guy with a couple hundreds - and watch either a doomsday sci-fi movie (just so I could say “nope, they got it wrong”) at the end, or watch a few Simpsons episodes, concluding with Bart’s Comet.
But if Clinton had announced it, the dog would be replaced by a goat.
Put the finishing touches on my time machine, then go back in time so that I have long enough to build a space ship. The go to a few minutes after I heard the news about the meteorite. Then I’d use the space ship to get away.
After that I’d either wake up, or come down off the acid trip. Then realize that the meteor thing was real, and freak out, while drinking and looting all that I could.
That was going to be my answer.
I take back part of what I said earlier. I’d pay the pizza guy with a check.
I’d put my baby in a spaceship and send him to a universe with a yellow sun.
Until then, however, I’ll have to settle sending this thread to IMHO.
A few things…
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Check to see if the whole thing isn’t just a gigantic hoax. Double check and triple check.
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Find my friend and we would both head to the nearest bar. I’d ask the bartender for two beers because the world’s about to end, hand him a 10 dollar bill, and tell him to keep the change. Go to the nearest smoke shop and do the same.
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If the bartender actually does give us the liquor, I’d lie on the roof with my friend (as mentioned before) and finish it all, and watch the…planet… hurtling towards us.
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Sit back and enjoy people panicking, play some bitchin’ tunes (or choons), don a pair of Ray-Ban shades I looted from the eyeglass store, and die knowing that I was a real hoopy guy. Er… girl.
First I’d be alarmed.
“This means Cheney’s going to be President!”
Then, a smile.
“But only for 90 minutes.”
That one never gets old.
This is what I’d do: make a wise-ass comment to whoever was with me, something like, “A meteor the size of Jupiter? More like we’re gonna crash into it! . . . . . . so, who’s up for some drugs and/or sex?”
Or, if we were on the side of the planet that was going to get a good view, I might go up to the roof and watch.
Nah, a solid body the size of Jupiter would have such a massive (heh!) gravitational field that the tidal forces would rip our tiny planet to shreds long before impact.
But it might be a hollow body the size of Jupiter! Eh? Eh?
I’d visit a girl I know’s house and ask her if, maybe, she wanted to make the last 90 (or 75 by the time I got there) minutes memorable ones.
After she says no, I’ll beg.