The End is Near, Sea Bass!

If you are going to try to predict when the end of time will be, for Pete's sake, pick a date that is beyond your own lifetime. You're just going to look like an ass if you don't. I know, I know...you won't be able to enjoy the 'I-told-you-so!' effect if you're right. Trust me. It won't even be that good anyways. Predicting the future has got to be one of the toughest jobs out there. I mean like besides weathermen...they've got super dopplars to blame when they're wrong. The regular, everyday psychic I mean. I bet they're totally kicking themselves for not going to see the guidance counselor when they had the chance. They must've always known they were going to turn out to be psychics though. I also wonder what a good psychic brings home on a good week. You know what would be a sweet job? Professional bass fisherman. It really says something about our society when you can make a decent living as a fisherman and throw every fish you catch back in the water. How would you even explain that to a caveman? "No, Undungo, we don't eat the fish. Just throw it back. See, people pay me a boatloads of money just to watch me catch the fish. I don't need the fish. Hell, I don't even like fish." Do people even eat bass? I know they eat Chilean Sea Bass, but that's just a stupid marketing ploy. Those fish used to be known as the Patagonian Toothfish, but who wants to eat a friggin' Toothfish? Not me. You rename that sucker "Chilean Sea Bass" and I'm game.