The shit beacons have been lit, kids!
President Orange Colostomy Bag has pissed off our allies (YOU LEAVE MEXICO ALONE YOU FUCK), picked fights with nuclear capable superpowers, diarrhea-ed all over the constitution, AND has a bona-fide Nazi whispering sweet who’s-such-a-good-boys in his ear. All in under two weeks!
Inspired by the sudden, very real possibility of Global Thermonuclear War thanks to President Human Botfly, I’ve compiled a handy-dandy list of survival tips for those lucky enough to make it to the bunker. Let’s MAKE THE FALLOUT SHELTER GREAT AGAIN.
- Stock up on sweet 1980’s tunes featuring copious amounts of rock sax! Can you imagine being trapped underground for 30 years WITHOUT Quarterflash? Of course you can’t and no one ever should.
- Don’t forget the art supplies! Bunker Thanksgiving just ain’t bunker Thanksgiving without those traced hand turkey deals.
- Learn a dead language! Because changing all the “Danger” and “Warning” signs to Sanskrit is the best way to find out who’s paying attention.
- Study Cryptozoology! Nothing is more fascinating that the myths surrounding that which we don’t understa- shit. You hear that? ITS THE GOATMAN I SWEAR TO FUCK.
- Craft Night! I suggest learning how to make shoes. I’ve read “The Road”. Shoes are super crucial.
- Did someone say homebrew? OH YES COMRADE. Be sure to give your creation a catchy, situation appropriate name like “ICBM IPA” or “Polonium Pale Ale”.
- Be sexually adventurous! What, you gonna stick with missionary, heterosexual bullshit for the next several decades? Try a new hole.
- Start a band! Don’t waste your rock sax gift!
- Introduce yourself to that small Russian bunker up the road! I heard they have Tetris.
- And finally, when the time comes, open up that heavy, reinforced bunker door, breath in the fresh, radiation-free air, and venture into the wild. Sure, cryptids have taken over in man’s absence, but Sasquatches are KNOWN for their diplomacy.* What have you got to lose? Well, maybe a couple of limbs and one or two of your tastier organs but, hey. Man had his chance, and man elected an orange, land dwelling lamprey. Maybe we should relinquish control to mother nature.
Maybe the bunker is our only hope.
*Lies. I don’t know enough about Sasquatch diplomacy to make that kind of claim.
Harden your heart with QUARTERFLASH Y’ALL.