Are We Finished Here

From Sumerian flood freakouts to the Mayan calendar meltdown, humanity’s been calling for the apocalypse since we learned to grunt

Since the first Neanderthal got high on fermented berries and stared too long at the sunset, humans have been predicting The Big Goodbye. The Final Curtain. The Cosmic Flush. The very moment all our petty arguments, shopping lists, and Facebook rants get vaporized into stardust.

And why not? The end of the world is the ultimate drama — better than Shakespeare, bloodier than Scorsese, more expensive than Avatar. It’s got fire, floods, angels, devils, mushroom clouds, plagues, horsemen, and if you’re lucky, a soundtrack by Ennio Morricone.

The Sumerians, bless their cuneiform hearts, were already calling for our collective last dance around 2800 BCE. “Flood’s coming,” they scribbled, “better start building boats.” Gilgamesh’s hometown prophets were just early edition weather forecasters with a flair for annihilation.

The Bible went full Quentin Tarantino on the concept: Four Horsemen, rivers of blood, stars falling like cosmic acne. The Norse gave us Ragnarök — gods battling frost giants in a final winter rave. Hindu seers promised Kalki would ride in on a white horse to smash the cycle. The Mayans penciled in December 21, 2012, and the whole internet stocked up on freeze-dried lentils.

Spoiler: The sun rose on December 22, and half of us still had to go to work.

Fast-forward to plague-ridden Europe, where every eclipse, comet, or goat giving birth to a two-headed kid meant Judgment Day was upon us. Year 1000 AD? People were so sure it was the end that some sold their land for cheap. Year 1666? Triple sixes — they were practically handing out pitchforks at the door.

Even Isaac Newton got in on the game, scribbling “2060” in his notes like a cosmic reservation. Then the 20th century rolled in, and we stopped blaming demons and started blaming ourselves: nukes, oil spills, rogue AI, climate collapse. We traded fire-and-brimstone preachers for scientists with PowerPoint slides and satellite data.

Top 10 Failed Apocalypses (a.k.a. Humanity’s Greatest No-Shows)

1. 2800 BCE – Sumerian Flood Forecast

The earliest recorded “We’re Screwed” bulletin. Carved in cuneiform, predicting the gods would wash us all away. Spoiler: they didn’t, but the Sumerians still got water damage.

2. 66–70 CE – The Great Jewish Revolt

Some zealots thought Rome’s siege of Jerusalem was the big finale. Instead, it was just another bloody chapter in the ongoing anthology called Humans Behaving Badly.

3. 1000 CE – The Millennium Meltdown

Medieval Europe was convinced Jesus was clocking in for the Last Judgment at the stroke of midnight, January 1, 1000. People gave away land, livestock, even spouses. January 2 was very awkward.

4. 1346–1353 – Black Death Bonus Round

With one-third of Europe coughing up lungs, everyone figured the Four Horsemen were here. Nope — just fleas, filth, and terrible public health policy.

5. 1666 – The Triple Six Special

London burned, plague returned, and 666 was on the calendar. People braced for hellfire. They got insurance claims instead.

6. 1844 – The Great Disappointment

William Miller, American preacher, convinced thousands the world would end on October 22, 1844. The morning after became “The Great Disappointment.” Still the funniest name for “Oops, I was wrong” in religious history.

7. 1910 – Halley’s Comet Gas Panic

Rumors that comet tail gases would poison Earth sparked a run on gas masks and “comet pills.” The comet came, waved, and left us breathing just fine.

8. 1975 – Jehovah’s Witness Countdown

Predicted the end of the system of things in 1975. When nothing happened, they quietly moved the goalposts. Humanity is undefeated in Apocalypse Dodgeball.

9. 2000 – Y2K

We didn’t die, but your uncle’s VHS player still thinks it’s 1900.

10. 2012 – Mayan Calendar Misread

New Age entrepreneurs and Hollywood turned a calendar reset into a death sentence for the planet. December 21 came and went, and the only thing that collapsed was bookstore sales in the “Apocalypse” section.

Here’s the kicker: every single apocalypse prediction so far has been dead wrong — and dead right. Wrong about the date. Right about the fact that it will happen eventually, because that’s how the universe works. Suns burn out. Galaxies collide. Civilizations choke on their own hubris. In five billion years, our star will swell into a giant, roasting Earth into a cosmic Hot Pocket.

But the human race? We’ll probably trip over our own shoelaces long before that — nukes, pandemics, AI overlords, take your pick.

We keep predicting the apocalypse because it’s our favorite bedtime story. It strips away all the noise and leaves us clutching the only things that matter — love, food, music, maybe some tasty indica if there’s time. The end of the world is our mirror: ugly, glorious, absurd.

So the next time some robe-wearing prophet, government scientist, or YouTube survivalist tells you the end is near, just nod, pour yourself a drink, and remember: they’ve been saying it since we learned how to grunt. And one day, one of them will finally get it right.

And when that day comes? I hope the sky splits open to the sound of Coltrane in full flight — sheets of sound ripping through the atmosphere, every note a rebellion against silence. No sheet music, no rehearsal, just a cosmic jam session where the universe leans in, basslines rumbling through collapsing galaxies, cymbals splashing like supernovae. If we’re going out, let it be with a saxophone screaming in the dark, turning the last seconds into something holy, wild, and impossibly alive.