Greetings post-industrial dogshit.

We comprise what remains of the once-great Mayan society. Y’know, that Mesoamerican culture that gave you advanced writing system and an independently formed concept of zero. How else would you calculate Tarvaris Jackson’s quarterback rating?

You may also remember us as the people you confused with the Aztecs and as the inspiration of Nickelodeon’s hit game show Legends of the Hidden Temple. All those gay Aztecs gave you was Apocalypto. Warfaring dickholsters.

Fuck them Olmecs while we’re at it.

Lately it seems our relevance as an ancient civilization has dwindled to near nothingness. It was only in your folly that our importance was reaffirmed.

Our forebearers created an staggeringly accurate calendar that predicts the end of the world in 2012.

Just today, your preeminent sporting league has assigned accursed shit basin Indianapolis as the host site of its championship game in that year.

Ahem.

Told ya so.

That event, headlined by a unholy halftime act REM, will touch off a gruesome death spiral for humanity that will conclude when Tina Fey is elected president of your country, after the Republicans foolishly hope to counter the political might of horrific yapcunt Hillary Clinton, who will wrest control of your nation in a matter of months.

It’s gonna suck.

I don’t know what else to tell you.

Want some maize?