THE END IS NEAR, SO LET'S ALL HUNKER DOWN AND ACT SILLY.

Byline: JANE ROBISON

AS we hurtle toward the end of this century and prepare to embrace a new millennium and a new world order, we must consider the seismic possibilities of change and advancement awaiting us.

The countdown to the 21st century has begun. Only two years left (three, if you're anal retentive and believe the millennium doesn't begin until Jan. 1, 2001) to clone a human, teach every child to read, put a computer in every classroom, write a program that staves off a worldwide computer catastrophe, and split Los Angeles in half.

Frankly, I'm scared.

People are in a tizzy wondering what the future holds. Badness, nothing but badness. I say that with absolute certainty because we're living in the best of times. And when times are good, adversity is sure to follow.

``Seinfeld'' is about to go dark; Bill Gates should go to prison; and John Glenn is about to return to space.

What do these three things have in common?

The triangulation of the end of creation.

Jerry Seinfeld turned down 5 million bucks a week. Not even for $10 million would he keep his hit comedy show about nothing on NBC, he told an audience at one of his show's tapings.

Nobody in Hollywood turns down that much dough to stay on the air unless he knows something the rest of us don't.

What could that possibly be, you ask?

``It's not about the money,'' he said. Quick, somebody hide his BVDs; he's obviously delusional.

Or perhaps, through Psychic Friends Network, Seinfeld knows he won't be occupying his earthly container much longer and he only needs $5 in quarters for his next venture.

And then there is Gates, who seems to have incurred a pox upon his billion-dollar house. For opening a window to the world of all knowledge with the click of a mouse, Gates is fighting for the survival of his modest little company.

Powerful forces are at work here. An epoch battle of good vs. evil is shaping up. Can Armageddon be far behind? Is it available on CD-ROM?

And just as Saddam Hussein furtively builds a bomb to dump thousands of Asian flu chickens over Texas in one final, impulsive, insane act, NASA announces that 77-year-old Sen. Glenn will return to space.

Coincidence? I think not.

And friends wonder why I'm having issues with the end of the century.

Considering the gigantic leaps in technology in this century, I'm feeling orgasmically challenged for the future.

Radio, television, moving pictures, airplanes, space travel, computers were all born in the past 100 years. And all were given modest chances of success. After assessing the telephone in 1876, Western Union decided it ``is inherently of no value to us.''

Scientists toasted themselves for successfully cloning a sheep, further eliminating the need to go home to their wives and have relations.

When they bypass labor pains, let's talk.

I grew up thinking it was always going to get better. The future held such promise, such hope, such intrigue.

Perhaps this inescapable sense of dread and foreboding that looms so large in the cosmic ether comes from knowing the heady days of peace and prosperity are all but behind us.

I bought shares in Coppertone after Vice President Al Gore's speech, virtually assured that Global Warming was going to heat up the market.

Instead, New England is encased in ice and the maple trees in Vermont have been sapped of their syrup.

So much for Global Warming.

Questions consume me. Why is everyone going to see ``Titanic,'' a marginally good film depicting how extravagance and arrogance beget disaster? Is it just because people feel sorry for Paramount and 20th Century Fox?

People want survival tips for the first Titanic disaster of the new millennium.

The future scares. I don't want the future. I want a better past.

So go ahead, dazzle me with your projections of things to come.

I'll just shake up a martini, slip into some cocktail music and wait for the end.