If you’re reading this post, you survived the Mayan Apocalypse.
Congratulations, and Happy New Baktun, the Mayan’s 14th age.
Now you need to start scrounging around for bottled water and canned food.
Any water will do, although I recommend imported sparkly water like Perrier or San Pellegrino because it’s classy. If you can also get your hands on a SodaStream machine, fantastic. The Cola’s good and just pennies on the dollar compared to pre-made soda. The Swiss marketed the hell out of the SodaStream this holiday season, so I’d search for packages about the size of a Swiss breadbox under Christmas trees in burned-out middle-class neighborhoods.
As for canned goods, ConAgra’s Ranch Style Beans are flavorful and filling, and Libby’s corned beef tastes like buttered meat. But Hormel beef tamales — the ones soaked in greasy red-chile sauce and wrapped in paper — are out-of-this-world tasty after you’ve been hiking all day in the shattered ruins of civilization. Eat them right out of the can after warming them up over a fire fueled by books, which you won’t have time to read anyway.
Don’t worry about clogging your heart with fatty foods. This is no time to go granola on your diet. You’re in full-on survival mode. Eat all the meat and sugar you want, and chase it with cigars and whiskey if it makes you feel good.
Your next task is to start looking for a mate to help you re-populate the world. Or at least to keep you warm at night and help you fend off looters and zombies.
If you’re a woman, look for Will Smith or Denzel Washington. They have previous post-apocalyptic experience, wield a shotgun ably, and are as charming as hell. There’s no reason I can think of why you should suffer through the end times with somebody who doesn’t have a nice smile and a great bedside manner.
For men, I can’t recommend anybody in particular. You’ll know you’ve found the right woman if she’s wearing a samurai sword, carrying a pocketful of early pregnancy tests, wearing a torn cotton shirt, and her chest glistens when it heaves. And it will be heaving, trust me. As long as you’re not shooting blanks from your groital region, this self-sufficient baby-making factory is ready for you. Especially if you happen to look like Denzel or Will.
Fuel’s going to be a big problem in the New Age.
You’ll probably be driving an amor-plated Chevy Silverado or Ford F-350 with a machine-gun mounted in the bed Rat-Patrol style, so you’re going to need a lot of gas — more than you can siphon from the tanks of the useless Toyota Priuses and other battery-powered kids’ toys cluttering up the roads. There will be gas stations everywhere and no waiting lines, but the problem is that there won’t be any electricity to pump it out of the underground tanks.
Locate a generator to run a pump as soon as possible.
That won’t be a problem if you’re in a state like Idaho, Arizona, Montana, Wyoming, Texas or Utah. Poke around in backyards, where you’ll find a generator near every concrete survival bunker that didn’t take a direct hit from a fiery comet.
Don’t worry about battling debunked owners for the generator. They will have gotten drunk on homemade sour mash and shot one another dead arguing about whether the Founding Fathers would’ve approved of the 15th and 19th Constitutional Amendments, which gave blacks and women the right to vote. Strict Constitutionalists have strong feelings about the intentions of Founding Fathers, who apparently wrote the Constitution right after they finished the Bible and didn’t think much of anybody who wasn’t an old white man.
If you’re living in a more progressive state, it will be easy to find an abandoned Starbucks or a decent deli, but correspondingly hard to find a bunker. Head instead toward the wreckage of your nearest Home Depot or Lowe’s for a generator. You’ll also find a handy stash of survival tools while you’re there. Things like rope, clamps, hooks, hoists and chains, which you can use to build a fort and might also find helpful when you and your new partner get serious about working on being fruitful and multiplying.
You’ll eventually meet other survivors of the Mayan Apocalypse. When you do, I’d suggest banding together to build an RV encampment in the parking lot of a relatively intact Super Wal-Mart. In fact, there may already be one there waiting for you.
You’ll meet some weird people there — many of them toothless and wearing belly shirts even though they’re 100 pounds overweight — but there should be enough food, clothes and dry goods inside to keep your new society going for the next 395 years, which is when the next Mayan Apocalypse and 15th Baktun starts.
Until then, good luck and Godspeed.