The end is here.  Life as we know it has come to a sudden and horrific end, and the world and all that is in it now crashes headlong towards utter ruin.  Elliot has been voted off of American Idol.  Yes, this past week, local Richmond guy Elliot Whatshisface lost in a close three-way vote between himself, The Golden Calf of the Israelites, and Dagon the Philistine Fish-God, who, to his credit, did a pretty bang-up rendition of “Sunshine Lollypops and Rainbows” on the night in question.  At any rate, people in Richmond haven’t been this angry since we lost the War.

 

            Remember back in 2000 when everyone was all freaking out because of allegations that George Bush had rigged the vote or sent Dick Cheney out with a shotgun to the polls?  Well, that pales in comparison to the wild conspiracy theories being spun even now, most of which boil down to a couple of main points.  One, American Idol hates the South, and two, Elliot was just so gosh darn messianic that clearly for him to lose, vile and malicious forces had to be in play.  Because of course, he couldn’t have just not been good enough.  I know, I know, heresy, but someone has to say it.  So anyway, now the poor guy has to come back to Richmond to either get awarded a pity contract to do an album, or he can go back to working at Bagels & Beef, or wherever he was before the gods of stardom saw fit to toy with his destiny. 

 

            But the fans, of course, have other plans.  Rumors abound that Elliot shall return to Richmond, not in his earthly form, but gloriously transfigured, as Elliot the White, emerging triumphant from his seemingly fatal battle with the entertainment Balrog that is Ryan Seacrest.  Some who claim to have met him in person claim that he has the power to heal the sick and the lame, and if there’s one thing that all this has shown us, it’s that in Richmond, we’ve got plenty of people who are totally lame.

 

            Indeed, even now a prophecy has begun to circulate that his faithful, the Elliites, if you will, must stand against the rest of us apostates in the coming days, for before Elliot returns to Richmond, we shall have to suffer through the reign of a great deceiver, the Anti-Elliot, who shall lead the people to destruction, turn the James River to blood, blot out the Sun, eat all of our knishes, and smite the city council with a mad plaguey case of the stupids (some defenders of the prophecy point out that this has already come to pass for the most part).  At the end of this great tribulation, the Anti-Elliot will transform himself into the form of Richmond’s greatest foe (other than Spanky, Lord of the Mole People and Bob Dole) the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.  Then, in this our greatest hour of need, Elliot will once more appear, all shiny and triumphant and whatnot, riding a chariot of flaming leisure suits and beans, and breathe fire and pop rocks upon his nemesis, and with an assist from the Arthur Ashe statue, shall beat all unbelievers down into the earth with a tennis racket.

 

            After this, a thousand years of paradise shall ensue, after which point everything will just go back to the way it used to be, except that by this time, the Feivel the Polish Immigrant Mouse will be the mayor, and the motto on City Hall will have been replaced with a neoclassical bas-relief of a bunch of walruses playing Uno.

 

            So, welcome back, Elliot, it’s been a long strange trip for all of us, but you’re the lucky guy who now gets to be stalked by every crazy TV addict in the metro area for the rest of your life!  And if you happen to see Dagon again at the class reunion, tell him I said Hi!