[WEEKEND OPEN BAR: The one-stop ramble-about-anything weekend post at OL. Comment on the topic at hand. Tell us how drunk you are. Describe a comic you bought. This is your chance to bring the party.]

We are post-apocalyptic.

The Mayan Doomsday has come and gone, and we’re all still here. Don’t give me any guff about the prophecy actually being a misunderstanding of white colonials or a co-opting at the hands of New Age dolts or the exploitation of profiteers. Last night was the end of the world and we did our best to survive.

My woman and I braced for the end by eating sushi, drinking, and watching movies.

And it would’ve been a find end. But here I am, still breathin’ and shit-talkin’ on the afternoon after the Last Night on Earth. Looking out the bay window of my third floor apartment, there’re no zombies to stave off, asteroid fragments to avoid, or swirling plague winds to justify wearing my hazmat suit. The robots haven’t raped our dogs and the aliens’re finding a better species to share omnidimensional enlightenment with. The bogeymen that knocked on our doors last night have already hopped back on the bus to return to Doomsville.

The Mayan idiot-scholars were wrong. Roland Emmerich was wrong. Hell, even the X-Files was wrong.

We’ve all survived an apocalypse. Not the first, and certainly not the last. And it feels great! But it’d be a goddamn shame to let this conflagration of hope dwindle down to the last embers. Let’s make the most of it, let’s take this sense of opportunity – even if we don’t really deserve it – and do something with it.

What’re you going to do now that you’ve survived the apocalypse?