I am going to look very silly-though nobody will see my embarrassment-if I get this wrong:

Planet Earth, I declare now publicly, will not disappear from the face of the universe on Friday, the publication date of today's issue of The Farmville Herald.

Or any time soon.

Mayan calendar or no Mayan calendar.

Among the many things which boggle my mind-particle physics, the big bang theory, and whether to chew pudding before swallowing-is how millions of people who lived their whole lives without paying any attention to Mayan culture all suddenly believe the world's going to end today because they think a Mayan calendar said so.

If the world does end, so be it. I will certainly have egg on my face, and much other debris from the global cataclysm if the world ends violently.

But, with respect, I'm not Mayan and I will continue to use the same Barnes and Noble calendar hanging from a tack stuck in the wall beside my computer, a computer, by the way, which also boggles my mind.

Frankly, I think most Mayans agree. Theirs is a rich history-the only fully developed pre-Columbian written language, and systems of mathematics and astronomy that boggle my mind.

In the spirit of end of the world bipartisanship, however, if it is Friday now and you believe the world has ended I respect your point of view and will happily debate that point with you if we happen to bump into each other next year.

Those of you who expected or hoped to go to heaven after the end of the world must be sorely disappointed right now, for two reasons in particular.

Firstly, of course, you were probably hoping heaven would be free of this column, that perhaps Shakespeare, Tolkien or Fifty Shades Of Grey might become your regular columnist.

Frankly, I agree. I also hope heaven is free of this column because I'm looking forward to other activities. It is heaven, after all.

Secondly, if the world has ended then the afterlife sure resembles all the other aspects of your life on Earth in Farmville, Prince Edward, Buckingham or Cumberland.

I would argue, however, that if you passed through the intersection at Sprouses Corner on your way to Buckingham or Cumberland Court House, or Dowdy's Corner heading to Farmville, then we're still breathing the same old air, the world intact.

On the other hand:

If, viewing this issue impartially, I am alone on this planet at 20 minutes past two on the afternoon of December 21-the world having ended peacefully-then I think it's only fair to warn you that I plan on opening all of your Christmas presents.

Look, I've got to have something to do.

I will spend the remainder of my life, in fact, opening Christmas presents, going from house to house, perhaps sliding down a chimney here and there, because there will be so many presents to open if the world ends on December 21 for the rest of you and, cursed by my unbelief, I am left here without succor or companionship.

And what a succor punch that will be. Depending, of course, on what I find after stripping the wrapping paper off some of the larger packages.

Many of you, of course, are reading this potentially final Rafterthoughts column on Thursday, December 20, given the differences in home delivery and the fact that any subscribe to our internet web site edition.

You still have a day left on Earth before growing angel's wings, or something else.

To you I offer this suggestion: If, after reading these words, you still believe the world is going to end tomorrow, go ahead and open one or two of your Christmas presents now.

Just please leave a few under the tree for me.

Thank you, and Merry Christmas.