First published on 11 Nov 2011. Updated on 10 Aug 2012.
According to some of the world’s leading doomsayers and crazy people, 2012 is when the Mayans predicted the world to end. Since we at Time Out Sydney take ill-supported interpretations of the calendars of long-dead civilisations incredibly seriously, we decided to ask some of our favourite funny folks the following question: "Just in case the Mayans were right and the world is going to end in December 2012, what do you hope to have done in the next twelve months?"
I would learn Mayan, take a crash course in archaelogical history, buy a one-way ticket to South America & sort this out myself. That and, I'd try to be a contestant on It's A Knockout.
I'll be spending the next 12 months doing exactly what I did before Y2K: stockpiling my underground bunker with supplies. I've had a single vision for myself all my life, to be voted People magazine’s sexiest man alive. A bunker might not seem as sexy as a penthouse overlooking the city – but if I am the last man alive, I am a shoo-in for sexiest man alive.
Tim “Scientist or Comedian?” Lee
I’ll be turning 32 in the next twelve months and as such I would like to complete the act of getting a wardrobe that has actual doors and doesn’t use the words ‘close rack’ or ‘Gumtree.com’ in any of its advertising.
I hope to have completed my 52-metre Lego idol of the Mayan Howler Monkey Gods to appease them and assure my place as a favourite for the next 5,125 years. So far I’ve only done the feet, but I’m quietly confident.
Actually, this is pretty difficult for me to answer because I'm already living my dreams. Picture a rap video: my life is exactly like that. I have tons of cash, chicks push up on me all the time, and I constantly have occasion to rhyme "money getter" with "honey hitter." Also, not a day goes by that I don't contort my fingers into letters of the alphabet and give shout outs to certain geographical locations I enjoy. My life is freakin' sweet.
In this time of economic uncertainty, I'll be damned if an extinct civilization travels through time and space (probably on some sort of time and space boat, am I right?) to take apocalypse-causing jobs from the hands of honest, hard-working, megalomaniacal Australians. It makes me bloody sick to think that my children won't get to grow up in a world that I haven't ended on my own terms.
If the everything really does blow up into a huge vacuum of nothingness in December 2012 in Sydney, we’re in London which gives us 24 hours to move to American Samoa.
Jennifer Carnovale & Madeliene Culp, aka Cloud Girls
The Mayans were the original hipsters. They sat around drinking chocolate and wearing woolly hats, complaining about the end of the world, and how everything had already been done, in a previous cyclical timestream (known today as 'the Eighties'). Also, I'm the sort of person who will let things slide right up until the deadline. So we'd get to December, my birthday is just around the corner, which means I'll lose another week there, and before you know it there's only a few days left, and it becomes quite clear I've wasted the last year sitting on the couch, drinking chocolate, wearing wooly hats and complaining about how I never rode my bike enough.
I want to sync iCal on my iPhone with the iMayan calendar so I can get an alert ten minutes before the world ends. Then I'll promise my wife that in 15 minutes I'll give her a foot rub and then mow the lawn.
Just based on form, if the Mayans had any REAL ability to forcast the future than maybe they might have noticed that their civilisation was about to crumble in the 9th century. But if they ARE right, I want to be sitting with Harold Camping, the radio preacher who missed twice this year with end of the world predictions. Just as the skies boil and the end arrives I want to casually remark, "Whatta ya know Harold: these Mayans got this shit right aiming from over 2000 years ago and you fracked it up twice!"
I would marry Kim Kardashian (it would probably be over before the end of the world), start a cult and get a really big home loan that I can’t possibly pay back.
I have three words for everyone: credit card applications. I've already got a wallet full of fresh cards and between now and December 2012 I'm going to max them all out. And if the world doesn't officially end, I'll certainly be faking my own death.
I'm sorry, 2012? 2012! I thought it was 2011! Do you mean I wasted a year stockpiling condensed milk and beans? So many Facebook event invites ignored... I need to be alone now.
I hope to have become a fixie-riding, moustache-wearing, “creative” with a shared office space in Darlinghurst and penchant for sentences like “this band is the next Boy & Bear”. Come New Year’s Eve 2012, I will then be able to punch myself in the face and die happy.
It’s a toss-up between achieving spiritual enlightenment and getting a head job off Keira Knightly.
I would just like to perform as much stand up comedy as I can. There was a moment a few weeks ago I realized how much I loved stand up, I was hungry after a gig, I was really upset that I couldn't buy the food I wanted, then I remembered there are kids in Africa who don't have gigs.