Sure, we're sick of this whole Mayan End of Days babble, too.
For those with their heads in the sand, some Mayans believe that Dec. 21 (that's Friday) is the end of a 5,125 year-long cycle of the Mesoamerican Long Count calendar. And that's a big deal well beyond typical New Year's Eve turn-the-page hoopla. Some say the date marks the end of the world or some other catastrophe. Maybe Earth gets sucked into a black hole. Maybe Earth collides with a planet called Nibiru.
Some dour scientists scoff at the idea, demanding silly things like evidence and proof. So we asked our crack staff of journalists, curmudgeons and cynics all. Turns out, they'd seen plenty of signs.
So before you dismiss this Mayan End of Days chatter, consider these recent signals:
Dreams of mermaids and unicorns dashed
Sadly, we've had to confront some cold hard facts about beloved childhood creatures this year. Across the globe, mermaids and unicorns have permeated folklore for centuries – fantastic beings with mystical powers. Sea-faring men have feared and fallen in love with mermaids, so the stories go. And the horns of unicorns have long been coveted for their powerful magic.
Thanks to a government science agency, those of us who believed in mermaids had the spell broken in July, when the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration felt compelled to assure the nation that mermaids do not exist. "No evidence of aquatic humanoids has ever been found," NOAA posited in a brief statement about the half-human, half-piscene beauties of the sea.
As if crushing one archetypical figure wasn't enough, the Korean Central News Agency dealt another blow to our psyches this autumn, claiming archaeologists in North Korea had reconfirmed the existence of a unicorn's lair near a temple of one of the country's ancient kings.
Certainly there are a handful of one-horned animals on the globe: rhinoceros, narwhal, oryx, and even, in 2008, the discovery of a curious Italian deer. There has even been speculation that the narwhal, a porpoise-like creature with a long, spiky, twisted tooth, are the modern day equivalent of unicorns. Some legends claim unicorns, for any number of reasons, missed the boat when Noah gathered up all the animals on his ark to spare them from a flood and wound up as sea-dwellers.
But the fact that this so-called authenticated discovery comes from the same state-run agency that has touted its leader's accolades and the constant adoration of his people, can't be instilling oodles of confidence in unicorn believers.
So shed a tear and prepare for goodbye: if mermaids and unicorns aren't really real, our mystical anchor to the unknown is clearly adrift – perhaps an early foretelling of what Dec. 21, 2012 may hold in store.
-- Jill Burke
Heed the Mayans before you freeze
Witness the ever-growing ice fields of Alaska's Chugach Mountains. Everyone thinks the world is supposed to end in fire and brimstone, but it's clear now the finish is coming with a new Ice Age. It's already strangling Fairbanks, where some are succumbing to the cold while others are choking on the soot-filled air caused by those burning wood by the cord to stay alive.
Forty-degrees below zero in Fairbanks in December. Torrential autumn rains filtering through alpine soils to birth new glaciers on the slopes of the Chugach and Kenai Mountains. Ice fields growing in alpine meadows. Alaskans freezing everywhere.
Yes, we know. The end is supposed to come with fire and brimstone (or burning sulfur as those secular, scientific types might call the latter). Well, screw that. It's clear now the end is coming with a new Ice Age.
It's already strangling Fairbanks, where some are succumbing to the cold while others are choking on the soot-filled air of those burning wood by the forest to try to stay alive. The Incas -- warm-weather types -- tried to warn us.
They knew what the end looked like. Forget that Euro-ruse of the northern tribes with their "global warming." That is a theory authored by the inhabitants of the land of ice and snow. They'd like for the whole planet to be ice and snow. Ever tried to grow potatoes in ice and snow? The Mayans grew them, and sometimes they left them out at night in freezing cold.
Can you say hockey puck? Not only can you not grow potatoes in the ice and cold, the ice and cold make them impossible to eat. There are reasons the Mayans worshiped the god of the sun, he of the light and heat. They knew to fear the long, cold dark. And the longest, coldest dark is coming. Mark the day, Dec. 21. Alaskans have damn little daylight that day; North Slope residents do without.
If you were a Mayan, it would be the perfect time for the world to end -- 12/21/12. Two 12s bracketing a transposed 12. There's some deep meaning there somewhere. We're not sure we have time to figure it out. But be sure: The end is near.
-- Craig Medred
King salmon go all hipster on us
No one is exactly sure why chinook salmon decided not to come back to Alaska rivers and streams in 2012. Scientists will spend years trying to figure out why the fish -- which serve as the lifeblood of communities across the state -- stayed away. The Alaska Department of Fish and Game imposed harsh restrictions on fishermen across Alaska -- from set netters on the Kenai Peninsula to subsistence fishermen on the Kuskokwim River -- in an effort to protect future runs. But really, restrictions probably weren't the answer.
In fact, California may have the answer. Earlier this month, in a rare occurrence, a chinook salmon was spotted in an urban creek in the yuppie enclave of Berkeley, Calif. How the fish ended up there has wildlife biologists dumbfounded. Either it got mixed messages on the whole slow food movement (just because it's "slow" doesn't mean they still won't eat you, little buddy) or it was just interested in getting back to busking full-time.
The take away here isn't science or biology. Alaska just needs to up its hipster cred. A few more hot yoga studios, plus a couple organic, gluten-free vegan eateries and before you know it the salmon will return in droves. Probably wearing thick-rimmed glasses and your grandma's sweater.
If that's not a sign of end of days, what is?
-- Suzanna Caldwell
Title 21, Agenda 21, December 21
Title 21, Agenda 21, the Mayan end of the world on Dec. 21. Coincidence? I think not.
Anchorage's farsighted, much-maligned, long-anticipated, one-step-forward, two-steps-backward effort to update its comprehensive code – dubbed Title 21 – is locked in a holding pattern after 12 years. The "blueprint for development in the Anchorage Bowl during the next 20 years" was first outlined in a 2001 document entitled Anchorage 2020. In other words, the update is about to lap its end of days. Which would make the soon-to-be-outdated code as ridiculous as a reading of H.G. Wells' "The Time Machine" or Jules Verne's "From the Earth to the Moon" is today.
In the meantime, the United Nations' non-binding plan to encourage sustainable development, Agenda 21, has raised conservative hackles from Florida's shrinking peninsula to the melting glaciers of Alaska. Feebly disguised as a feint to protect the environment, Agenda 21 has greased the skids for global domination by none other than the United Nations.
The uncanny link between Title 21 and Agenda 21 has been exposed. Here's a partial list of terms that telegraph the U.N.'s intent: consensus, equity, protect, action, benefit of all, social justice, facilitator, traffic calming, common good, best management practices, collaborative, vision, livable communities. The proponents of Title 21 use the same terms! We're doomed.
Now we know why the Mayans were worried. A civilization that promotes the common good has degenerated to the point of no return.
-- Rick Sinnott