I stood out in the town square wearing my giant chicken suit and orange feathers.  On my soap box I call out to you.  “The world will end in exactly 1,390 days.”  I point to an obscure bible passage that I found.  “When I added it up by alphabetical numerology A=1 and so forth.  It added up to 1390.”  You nod in interest and agreement.  “Plus I deeply understand from my bible school teachings that this was the year our lord who art in heaven who guided Moses or what is his name Columbus to discover America.  From here we rule the world.  Rome is now Washington DC and the Legion Order of Cat Fish Franchises have conspiracy plans to break the Builder Burgers into smaller pieces so that the Queen and her royal backed Bank of England can control the money supply better.”  

You continued to walk on and did not listen anymore to me.  I felt compelled to get off my soap box and come after you.  “Of course, I am making this all up, but you should go along with it anyway.  Why?  Because you are on a new form of underground camera show called “Gag Order”.  Understand?”  You stand there confused not knowing whether to take me seriously.  You look around and see a video camera in the corner.  “Yes, I’m going to say whatever I want to you buddy boy.  Freedom of the press, got it?”  You look angrily at me.  “I am willing to go to jail or the fricking mental institution for my right of free speech, got it?”  You nod slowly.  I grab hold of your vest and twist it.  “What will it take for us to wake up?   Don’t you want to preserve the planet?”  Finally you reply.  
“Well, interesting you should ask that.  Since the world is scheduled and pre-ordained to be destroyed in only 1,390 days we’ve got no time left.”   

In a grouched faced fashion I sneered.  “How much time do we need is the question, ok?”  (Disclaimer:  Since I haven’t really gotten around to counting up the days on the calendar to see exactly when this date exactly occurs – lets be flexible about the exact date.  As long as you get the idea you can make a note in a day or two to make a random check).  

You replied again to me nicely and now I am torn.  I’ve torn your collar.  You say. “If it happens it must be God’s will to let this be – let this be.  If he or she wants it stopped I am sure the almighty could prevent this disaster from happening.  On the other hand, it may be a test of Lucifer whose task is to challenge and determine who is stronger.”  You pause as I am about to say something. You interrupt my thoughts.  “Let  – the ignorant will of the people or their good hearts rule.  It is our natures to listen to your sad street slobber corner appeals and I enjoy reading your slanted spray painted slogans.  I don’t have time or money to give today so, just let me go home.”  You start to walk away again.  I keep pace.  “I don’t mean any harm sir. I only want to warn everyone.  I’ve even begun to use professional telemarketing services to call and intimidate rich families in the middle of the night anonymously so they can spread the good word.”  He said he could see I’m a good man whose just a little crazy.  “Now, the real issue seems to be – if what you are saying is all true and you manage to alert all the people.  Then what?  What can they do about it?”  He had me there.  I haven’t thought that far in advance of my plans.  

“I have given this a great of thought and feel I am doing my share just by shaking up and scaring the populace to repent.  It is difficult these days convincing a weary public.  I ask you to stop running away from me.  Let us stand together in unified silent prayer.  Once we have spread the message and packed our bags for the big journey the Mother Ship will arrive and take us all away.  Then we’ll all be ok again.  Once on board their friendly space craft most aliens that allow chanting will let us use their technology to return to a brand new Earth so we can decolonize this planet.  That will help us live together better.”  

“Don’t you want to live on top of a Utopian world?  Ok, if you walk any faster I won’t be able to keep up with you.  Look, come back next week to the same place for the annual World Beat Banging of the Cake Pans contest.  It is part of divine plan to alert god and bring this identity crises to its head.  I’ll do anything for the utmost’s attention.  Can you bring one of your crock pots?  Please take a stack of my pamphlets to pass on to others.” You stop and look glazed eyed at me. “I can now see that there is great urgency to your message.  Take me to your leader.”  You start laughing.  I reiterate “We only have 1,390 days left.”  You keep walking away and I know it is hopeless.  “I better stop following you around now and go back to my soap box in Red Square or some other nut will take my space.  Thank you for being human, supportive and listening.  Got any spare rubles?”