You wake up and it's August and it's 7 AM, an hour after you went to sleep.
You get up, close all the windows and then turn the air conditioning on, setting it to maximum. You shave and shower. After the shower put your best clothes on: shirt, tie, long trousers, the whole works.
You then go to your room and get back into bed, and sleep until the remaining hours of daylight are over.
Things inevitably going wrong while organizing cultural events (clashing roadie egos, backup bands messing up the headliner's personal toilet, constant inspections from three different kinds of police one of which partially fictitious, official permissions only being given fifteen minutes before the gates open, show merchandising only reaching the venue some days after the show, co-stars climbing around drunk and completely naked in full view of the audience, stage exploding due to monsoons accidentally visiting the wrong continent) are, thanks to the butterfly effect, the only thing that's keeping our planet from being hit and destroyed by a passing meteorite.
The instant a show actually goes smoothly without a single flaw or screwup and even actually - god forbid - makes a profit, well, Boom and goodbye world, hello bigfatmeteoritewithallournamesonit.
I call this the evaristo permutation of Murphy's law as applied to event promotion and global holocaust.
And yes, all examples mentioned above are real.
