So, rapture, eh? Tomorrow’s the big day, I guess. Especially if you’re one of the Haddads from Middletown, Maryland:

The three teenagers have been struggling to make sense of their shifting world, which started changing nearly two years ago when their mother, Abby Haddad Carson, left her job as a nurse to “sound the trumpet” on mission trips with her husband, Robert, handing out tracts. They stopped working on their house and saving for college.

Last weekend, the family traveled to New York, the parents dragging their reluctant children through a Manhattan street fair in a final effort to spread the word.

“My mom has told me directly that I’m not going to get into heaven,” Grace Haddad, 16, said. “At first it was really upsetting, but it’s what she honestly believes.”

Ouch.

As for this editor, I say good riddance. I’m ready to leave this world of grocery store lawsuits, ethical conundrums, flooding rivers, hate crimes, suburban transit debates, smallpox scares and interleague play. Because as far as I’m concerned, a world without the Macho Man’s unique brand of promotional insanity is no world for me. Rest in peace, Mach.