How Will You Cope With Being Left Behind?

That was the essay question posed by NOSHA at our “Left Behind” party in May. You know the day the world was supposed to end? We even awarded prizes for some of the best submissions written that wacky evening.

Here’s the winning entry submitted by Betty of New Orleans:


How will I cope? What will I do?

In a word: very dry martinis. Wait! That’s three words. How irrelevant. But then, when it’s all over – everything is irrelevant. So right now, here and now, you want to Laissez Les Bon Temp Roulez!!! Yeah, baby, let the good times roll-l-l-l. (Make those very dry, Bombay Sapphire on the rocks martinis).

But while we’re on the subject, why on earth (pun intended) would anyone fear a god they’ve never seen – much less trust to “beam ’em up, Scottie” to an unknown place, at an unknown time, in an unknown – what- spaceship?

Think about this SERIOUSLY. It makes no sense. It’s (more) religious fantasy.

Be good to people, hope they’ll be good to you – and – make mine a double, two Cajun olives and three cocktail onions and Sinatra on the CD player. Shit, do you really need anything more?

Thomas of New Orleans

Being left behind for a while is like being half-ass in heaven and half-ass in hell. I guess my right behind is in heaven and my left behind is stuck here until the end of days.

So as I see it, my left behind is just behind my right behind on that narrow road to heaven or hell. By being non-committal, I am actually covering my ass pretty well.

Of course, I don’t want my left behind to fall behind my right behind too much as it may cause a crack in the fabric of the universe, in the neighborhood of Uranus.

Now, if I want my left behind to join my right behind, I must probably follow the Lord’s way and turn the other cheek in order to be chic, worship the Lord more than my Ford, leave my neighbor’s ass alone and not kill the valuable time I have left until the end of time.

Laura of Slidell

First, I would thank god for finally saving me from his followers. Afterwards, I would do the most heinous acts, since I’m doomed anyway:

Red beans and rice on TUESDAY
Mimosas on THURSDAY
Put tomatoes in gumbo and all sorts of villainy!

I would then grab a group of followers and proclaim myself the NEW messiah and force non-believers to sing karaoke. And, of course, my headquarters would be that nice yellow mansion on St. Charles Ave. I’d probably do some reading and learn to garden….just because. And practice for hell by standing in front of fires in August.

I’m very excited and hope to be in one of the upper circles of hell. The one with the celebrities.