Be Ready When the Sh*t Goes Down( A Survival Guide to the Apocalypse)

by Griffin, Forrest

  What happens next is wholly dependent upon your location in relation to the blast. If you are living in the target city, the one that has been struck, you are smack-dab in the thick of some mayhem. Since you had the foresight to purchase this book, I’m going to give you a tip: save some of the money you would normally spend on booze and your Internet porn subscriptions and go buy yourself a radiation dosimeter that tracks the level of radiation, which is measured in rads.

  At the very least, you want to get a radiation badge, which looks much like a credit card. Anything measuring more than one hundred rads is considered “hot” (saw it on Fringe, so it has got to be legit). If the area in which you are residing is registering hot, no one is coming for you. The First Responder teams, such as the Chemical Biologic Incident Response Force (CBIRF), label zones that measure a hundred rads or greater as No Go Zones, and they ignore that part of town altogether. Chances are you will be stuck there for several days. In cities that have a population greater than 7 million, such as Los Angeles and New York City, the No Go Zone will produce anywhere from one hundred to two hundred thousand fatalities within the first twelve hours. Those who do survive but did not construct a fallout shelter will most likely be soaked with a heavy dose of radiation, which is evidenced by severe burns and sickness.

  ANIMALS KNOW WHEN IT’S BETTER JUST TO DIE

  If you do not have the money to purchase a radiation detector, just go down to your local pet shop and pick up a shit-ton of canaries. Apparently, they die super quick from radiation and will let you know when to get the hell out of Dodge (yes, I stole this from Close Encounters of the Third Kind).

  Outside of the No Go Zone, you have the Fallout Zone. If you managed to seal up your doors and windows or get into your fallout shelter quickly enough, you might have a glimpse of hope at truly surviving. Some degree of radiation sickness should be expected. If you purchased a radiation dosimeter like I suggested, you can always test yourself to see how fucked you are. If you don’t have one, you can gauge your level of sickness by your symptoms. Minor radiation poisoning can lead to throbbing headaches or light skin burns. Significant doses are said to be able to cause genetic mutations. I don’t think this means that overnight you will grow a dick out of your forehead, but it does mean that you’ll have a stronger likelihood of having deformed babies should you decide to procreate and bring a child into a jacked-up, godforsaken, post-nuclear-war world. If you ever wondered where all the deformed creatures come from in movies such as Total Recall, you got your answer. It’s sick fucks like you who want to get your groove on after sucking down large amounts of radiation. You’ve probably spent many a dark and lonely night thinking about that three-titted girl.

  To avoid having to name your child “Thing” or “It,” I would highly recommend remaining indoors for at least four days. But be warned, once you do venture outside, you will have to work your way through a gauntlet of dead bodies, rubble, and all sorts of shell-shocked and desperate people who may be completely fucked in the head. As I mentioned in the escape route section, stay off the main roadways and keep to lesser-traveled paths. However, be on the lookout for any Red Cross or other medical units.

  If you manage to link up with a unit trained specifically to handle major crisis, you will be sorted out in what is called the DIME system—Delay Treatment, Immediate, Minimal, and Expected (yes, the government loves acronyms). If you see yourself being marked with a green tag, you are basically fine and won’t receive much attention, but you can breathe a sigh of relief because you’ve just advanced to the next round: post-nuclear-war survivor. If you get marked with a yellow tag, you have minimal injuries and will most likely survive. In my personal opinion, the yellow tag is the worst because you will be waiting around for hours and hours, bored out of your mind. If you get a red tag, you are in the immediate category and will receive priority treatment because they think they can save you. If you get a black tag, you have been labeled as “expected”—as in “expected to die” (there simply is no nice way to say that). You won’t receive shit, except maybe some morphine for the pain, which at this point may not be such a bad thing.

  Going out in a nuclear blast during the end of the world isn’t a shameful death, unless of course you were doing something unmentionable during the actual impact. For example, if you were trying to figure out if the chick you were jerking to online was actually a dude, and then you noticed the Adam’s apple at the precise moment the bomb hit, I’m afraid your death isn’t as heroic as you may have hoped. In fact, once in the afterlife, expect to be the laughingstock of the next world.

  If you get released from a medical unit with a clean bill of health or you do not link up with such a unit, it is important to remember that a shit load of people will be fleeing the city. They will attempt to find refuge in towns and states that cannot support an instantaneous mass immigration of this kind. Survivors will be competing for resources, and this will undoubtedly piss off the locals. In a short period of time, refugee camps will be established. Personally, I advise avoiding them at all cost. You want to go solo instead. Just strike it out on your own and live like the wolf—El Lobo. Howling at the moon in your anguish. Always hunting. Always yearning.

  However, if this does not work out for you or you get corralled by law enforcement officers, you’re going to have to learn how to survive in a refugee camp. It will become a dog-eat-dog world very quickly, and I feel it is my duty to give you some much-needed pointers. How do I know so much about refugee camps? Well, I used to watch that HBO prison show Oz all the time, until it got super-duper gay. And there is a strong chance that I watched too much of it, as I am now using words like “super-duper.”

  FORTUNE COOKIE WISDOM

  The apocalypse isn’t all doom and gloom. Sure, everyone is dead, the world is in chaos, and all those near-extinct species are now extinct . . . well, most every species is extinct. But you must think of the many benefits. There will be no more reality TV, which is the lowest form of entertainment. Even lower than curling (a pathetic sport that is somehow still in the Olympics). The obvious exception is TUF because it is a show where people with actual skill compete against one another for an actual goal. (It did wonders for me. Without TUF, you would not be reading this book and, consequently, dying a horrible death in the apocalypse . . . Oh, and that show where they compete to make the best cake is pretty legit too.)

  In addition to no more reality TV, the roads will be far less crowded, which means fewer instances of road rage. In fact, most cases of road rage will be me kicking unoccupied vehicles. There will also be no lines anywhere—try to wrap your head around that. Of course, there will be nothing left to actually do, but at least you won’t have to wait in line to do it. So your family and friends may have died, but there will be no traffic. Come on, that’s a fair trade.

  LIKE SUMMER CAMP, ONLY DIFFERENT:

  HOW TO TOUGH IT OUT AS A REFUGEE

  Refugee camps are designed for the unwanted, and so the majority of the time they are constructed on very inhospitable terrain. If you are in Louisiana, expect to be placed in the swamps. If you are in Nevada, expect to be placed in the middle of the fucking desert. If you are in Arkansas—well, anywhere in Arkansas is pretty fucking shitty.

  Since they placed you in the crappiest part of the state, there will be no permanent structures. Although tents will be erected overnight, most of them will fall over in the first storm. You will most likely have to sleep outside, but instead of being out in nature with a good deal of breathing room, you will be packed into these camps tighter than a pedophile’s shit in San Quentin. Basically you’re going to be like the aliens in District 9, except without the cat food. (Though come to think if it, you’ll probably be pretty hungry, so it won’t take long for cat food to become a desired luxury . . . and yeah, I mean you will be selling your body for a can of cat food.) All night there will be the obligatory sobs and anguished wails (kind of like what I hear from my wife during and after sex). To avoid going mad, you are
going to have to train yourself to stay hard. I don’t mean walking around 24/7 exclaiming, “I am the owner of a boner!” I mean you want to have to stay emotionally tough. You can’t let things faze you, no matter how terrifying they may be.

  Food will be scarce, and so you must get used to taking things from people who are less aggressive and dominant than yourself. Just like in fighting, survival is based on who really wants it. There are many ways to develop this mental toughness prior to an actual scenario. For instance, I find it helpful to take things from small children and babies with little or no remorse. It’s just a good way to get started. Next time you see a child relishing an ice-cream cone, walk by and simply snatch the dessert from the child’s clutches. It also helps to scream as loudly as possible to scare the living shit out of him. This adds to the power of your action. Even if you are in training and trying to eat healthy, snatching ice-cream cones, cotton candy, Popsicles, etc., is great practice. You don’t even have to eat it: just drop the tasty treat on the ground in front of the child. This not only helps you forge your emotional toughness, but it does the same for the child. Children need to experience more of these types of life lessons if they’re going to make it. Trust me, you’re doing that kid and yourself a favor. It’s a win-win . . . Although, it can be kind of difficult explaining that to the parents and the judge.

  The next step to becoming refugee-camp tough is to start punching people. I obviously have a bit of a head start in this department, but you too can cultivate your ability to strike another for personal gain so long as you start now. For example, it is okay to take practice swings at those who are weaker than yourself, so long as it is done in the name of your postapocalyptic training.

  Even with this toughness, though, refugee camps are just going to suck, so again, my advice is to stay on your own and avoid refugee camps. In a postapocalyptic world, trust no one. When things begin to settle down and you have the urge to rejoin society, the dosimeter in your Go Bag will come in handy for determining whether or not you will be accepted back into life with others. Measure yourself before you try to reintegrate with any kind of organized group or law enforcement types, as they will most certainly measure you before allowing you to mingle with their constituency. If you are registering above a hundred rads, you will be treated like the redheaded stepchild of mankind. Even if you are below the necessary amount of radiation, your new friends might attempt to give you a “cleansing,” which is a whole new joy of this modern world to look forward to.

  Hints on Surviving a Nuclear War

  1. Avoid living near major metropolitan cities, military bases, or the White House.

  2. The Emergency Alert System, which replaced the Emergency Broadcast System in 1997, broadcasts emergencies over the radio, television, and even satellite radio. Keep one of these channels open at all times.

  3. Purchase a battery-powered radio for those times when the power goes out.

  4. Have at least fourteen days of emergency supplies in your fallout shelter.

  5. Build an underground home. In addition to help protect you from fallout, it will dramatically cut down on your electric bill.

  6. In case you are not at home when a nuclear attack occurs, purchase a radiation suit and store it in the back of your car.

  7. If you are exposed to fallout or radioactive dust, remove all of your clothes before entering your fallout shelter.

  8. Avoid vacationing in North Korea or the Middle East.

  GIANT SPIDERS ARE SCARY AS SHIT

  If you think the notion of giant spiders is crazy, you haven’t watched enough post-nuclear-war movies. These documentaries have taught me one thing—be very wary of giant insects that have grown to prehistoric stature after ingesting large amounts of radiation. Personally, I cannot think of anything more terrifying. Spiders are all over the place, and in the animal kingdom they are ruthless. While radiation has a tendency to deform and kill humans, it seems to make spiders and other insects larger and more powerful. When all jacked up on green nuclear waste, the little fuckers that you’ve been smashing for years are going to be the size of minivans, and they will come looking for revenge.

  Next time you capture a spider in a jar, grab a magnifying glass and take a good look at it. They are hairier than a female Armenian power lifter, and they have eight eyes that surround their body, allowing them to see in all directions. They are perfect killing machines. If you desire to see their ruthlessness firsthand, throw a more docile insect into that jar. When viewing the spectacle through a magnifying glass, you will most likely shit your pants at the savagery. Instead of tearing its food to pieces, the spider drives its fangs into the flesh of its victim and injects a poison. This poison doesn’t kill the poor little buggy, oh no, it liquefies its innards while it is still alive. I recommend watching this horror show very closely, and then I want to hear you tell me you are not afraid of giant fucking spiders.

  P.S. Once you’re finished studying your future foe, use your magnifying glass to burn that little bastard-fuck to a crisp. At the very least, fill the jar with water or gasoline. Just murder the fucking thing ’cause that’s one less spider we will have to deal with postapocalypse.

  Apocalyptic Movies You Should Never See

  1. Armageddon: I really wanted to like the movie because an asteroid impacting Earth is such a feasible scenario for the apocalypse. If scientists spot an asteroid heading toward Earth, our only chance of survival could very well be to send out a mining crew to blow the thing up. If such a thing actually occurred, I am sure the sales of Aerosmith CDs would shoot through the roof. However, I find the movie so ridiculously stupid, it actually makes me angry.

  2. Deep Impact: Sounds like it should be porn, but unfortunately it’s not. This came out around the same time as Armageddon. Why do theme movies always seem to come in pairs? In any case, the movie was actually worse than Armageddon. Morgan Freeman is president and that’s about the only thing I remember beyond the fact that it’s about an asteroid. Hopefully, the real apocalypse doesn’t have this much drama or bad acting. I’m banking on a whole lot more action and explosions.

  3. Waterworld: I don’t know if there is enough water to cover the whole world, but if there is, I hope I am the first one to develop gills. But even with gills, this movie will still suck.

  IT AIN’T BEDROCK, IT DAMN SURE AIN’T FRAGGLE ROCK’IT’S RAGNARöK, MOTHERFUCKERS

  Before I go into the story of Ragnarök, I just want to clarify something. Things will get real nerdy-sounding real fast. Just so you are aware, the story of Ragnarök is where all the Hobbit shit, Dungeons & Dragons, and some of the canned metal tunes came from. I am going to use names like Midgrade the Realm of Men, and Asgard (not Assguard—ASGARD, but don’t worry, ass guards will be covered later in the book, as you will probably need one in the apocalypse). If you think I’ve been listening to techno all day while playing PC games in my basement, you’re wrong. That’s what you’ve been doing. I’ve been in the library, reading up on all this shit . . . well, at least my coauthor has. So if anyone is a nerd, it’s him . . . and you . . . especially you.

  This is the real story of how the Vikings viewed the end of time. And when I say “Vikings,” I am not referring to the ones with “lifebars” or “HitPoints” or “damage points” or who-the-fuck-cares points. The kind of Vikings I’m talking about are the raping, pillaging, looting, and killing kind. So put aside your initial reaction to flush my head in a toilet or Saran Wrap me to a flagpole and listen, because even though the nerds of the world jacked up this story to make themselves feel like they could slay anything from the safety of their computer keyboards, the truth is that this story is all about cutting people and hacking them to death with hatchets and axes and tearing things in half and stuff. It is a story from the manliest men to ever exist. Anyway, check it out.

  So Ragnarök is going to come after mankind has been fighting for three solid years in winter conditions. I’m talking hard-core war for three years straight in the freezing co
ld. By this time, a lot of us will be dead or starving or really fucking beat down. During this massive battle, mankind kinda loses its mind. People get sicko-pervo on each other. The prediction says that fathers will start trying to kill their own sons, while mothers will try to hook up with their sons. And sisters and brothers will start getting it on as well. Sounds like some pretty isolated people wrote it, right? Apparently, the Vikings had some deep Freudian issues (maybe this is where the realm of Nerdgard started to relate to them, I don’t know).

  At any rate, there will be no rules whatsoever, so if Ragnarök really does come to fruition, just go crazy and do whatever the hell you want. But whatever you decide to do, just make sure you dress warm. According to the ancient texts, three straight years of winter wasn’t enough. With the onset of Ragnarök, another winter will set in, except this one will be so freakin’ cold that they actually give it a name—Fimbulverr. Sounds like what you did with your stinky pinkie the other night, if you know what I mean.

  Once this winter comes, we start to meet the bad guys in all of this. Two brother wolves, Skoll and Hati, turn up after chasing shit around the universe for an eternity. Their main target had been the sun and the moon, and about the time of Ragnarök, they finally catch up to them. Being stupid dogs, instead of turning them into their chew toys, they decide to eat the sun and the moon outright. If they were my mutts, I would either give them a swift kick to the ribs for their insolence or send them to Michael Vick for a little obedience training. But that’s just me.