I get excited about a post-apocalyptic world.  Everyone is sexy and knows martial arts.  Except for the zombies, of course.  But otherwise, it’s all black leather, silver buckles and the pirate internet.  Ridiculous motorcycles, warehouses of booze, and the unprecedented opportunity to connect with people in ways not possible in the pre-apocalyptic world.

And everything is free.  Or the currency has changed to something absurd.  Something that’s no longer manufactured.

At least, that’s the premise of my sci-fi novel that I have written in my head. 

Whether it’s a giant monster, a plague of zombies, or simply the economic apocalypse (which has nearly been brought about by George W. Bush, thanks to the rich and/or religitardalated), the apocalypse arrives with promise dripping from its outstretched hands.  With the herd culled, there is more room –and more unattended retail space chock full of GOODIES– for you and me.

Also: this is why manual can openers are SO important.  You don’t want to be caught in the apocalypse with a goddamn electric can opener.  Please. 

In the post-apocalyptic world, I am SO HOT.  With a little help from one of my friends, I can make armor-plated bras.  HOT.

Reality, in the form of Monday, is peeking up over the horizon like a foul spirit.  O murd’rous day!  O spite!  O hell!  O fie, fie, fie!

Start stockpiling toothbrushes.  Just in case.