One day, my officemates and I were drinking and this is what we think really happened:
The Mayan calendar maker was old. So he needed a "heir" or an apprentice so that when he dies, someone will continue the calendar. But the young men of the tribe were so busy chasing women, playing Mayan poker, drinking and doing drugs [I bet the hallucinogens during that time were awesome]. Long story short, no one wanted the job.
So the old Mayan calendar maker dies on December 21, without an apprentice. And the Mayan science of calendar making goes with him to the grave.
Flash forward to modern times and some scientist/archaeologist digs it up and misinterprets the damn thing.
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