We’re all gonna die. Maybe not today, next month, nor twenty years from now, but sooner or later, all of us--you, me, your friends, your dog, your progeny’s progeny’s progeny’s progeny, and absolutely everyone you both know and don’t know--are gonna die. Buy the farm. Bite the Big One. Kick The Bucket. Keel over.
And all of us will miss the ring-side seats (Come one! Come All! Getchure red-hots!) we all now have for the most FANTASTIC cosmic occurrence to ever rip apart our world!
Yesterday, I read on Spaceflight now (see link below) that in about 2 billion years, our Milky Way galaxy will have slammed into our neighboring Andromeda galaxy, 2.5 million light-years away, and it’ll mess things up royal. It was rather interesting for me to note that it will all be within our Sun’s lifetime. That wonderful, life-giving orb we all adore and love that hangs above us and proudly parades Her Bad Self across our sky each and every day. Beautiful, radiant, so gorgeous and giving we can’t even look at Her or She’ll burn out our eyes (real Homerian). Of course, by the time our worlds collide all our oceans will have boiled away. Then, in about another 3 billion years, both our galaxies will have merged into one foot-ball-shaped mass. No longer would there be any “milky way strip of stars” romantically stretching across our heavens at night (well, it’ll also be up there during the day, too...); it would now be one huge mess of stars. But think of the roll-coaster-like ride, as we all scream toward those other stars! Be a helluva ride!
Oh, and our placement in this new, cosmic tossed-salad? Well, our solar system would be not-so-politely muscled out of our current neighborhood (white picket fences, neatly manicured lawns, where everyone knows your name and friendly “Howdy neighbor!” every time we go out to fetch our properly delivered papers...), to about four times farther away from the center of our current system as we already are, to about 100,000 light-years--yeah, you guessed it: out in the boonies. Think outhouses, 40 acres of field to mow (or hay), cow farts (we know about these from my last blog), and no 7-11s just down at the next corner. But, on the bright-side, think about all the keggers and rock concerts you could now have out in your new Fields of Dreams without disturbing the neighbors!
And all the while our wonderful Sun will be burning Herself out. No more purty yellow-white glow, no sir/ma’am, it will by then have bloated into a huge angry red giant. Not a pretty sight, neither. Think SPF 30,000 and Space Blanket attire. No more choice between well-done and medium.
So, just thought you’d all like to know, and maybe, I don’t know...start packing?
