Yes, the Mayans had it wrong
But no, I don’t regret for a moment having spent the past six months dressed in a jade-colored breechcloth and jaguar skin shirt praying to Kinich Ahau and Itzamna, nor do I regret selling my Willie Mays rookie card to fund a pilgrimage to Caana and the Cave of the Witch, having first made stops at blessed cities of the northern lowlands like Chichen Itza, Uxmal, Edzná, and Coba — from the last of which I picked up a really sweet roll of seeded Yucatan cotton that I hope one day to weave into a bitchin’ winter skull cap.
Because better safe than sorry, right?
I just wish I’d been a bit more circumspect about engaging in some of the more controversial Mayan rituals. Though in my defense, the dude was stuck in a low-paying job and was constantly high on glue fumes, so nobody is really going to miss him anyway.