Apocalypse Herder Vol V. Or Tales Becoming Increasingly Dark As Civilization Continues To Consume Itself. WARNING: Possible Moral Compass Shift Ahead.

  The power's been out forever. Water has been a thing of the past for over a month now. For the most part the frenzied murder-circus in the streets that was commonplace for a week or so, has more or less just become murdering at a kinda medium pace. Like when it's convenient and it is clear the victim has something of value to take.


  Increasingly though 'something of value' denotes having skin or being comprised mostly of meat, which we're all guilty of. Both of these things are useful to folk who've decided that humans are just other animals, and they're way easier to kill than deer. Especially when you live in an urban center that is teeming with people, but noticeably lacking in livestock, wild game or fucking locally grown vegetables.


  And while we're on the subject of fucking vegetables, let us not understate their importance in a human being's diet. I read a book about Lewis and Clark's expedition to the Pacific and let me tell you, humans cannot survive on red meat alone. These guys were able to shoot idiotic amounts of deer, elk, bear, birds of every description, small critters of every stripe. For weeks at a time they were able to consume up to twelve pounds of deer or elk meat a day and yet they were still on the verge of starvation and suffering from extreme malnutrition because the meat was too lean to provide the fat needed and they had very little in the way of carbohydrates or vitamins. Most of the life saving components of their diet were provided by the tribes of Native Americans they encountered along the way.


  So although it sounds like the solution to all your problems, grilling up some homo sapiens, is a temporary fix. It does, admittedly, offer you ample opportunities to perfect a meat marinade for that ultimate street-food skewer or kebab. But even the greatest tasting strip of human buttstrap won't save you if you can't find cabbage, potatoes, carrots or fucking rhubarb to consume it with.


  That being said, there's nothing lean about your average American in 2020 Trumpmerica. We have an obesity rate of roughly 40% percent, which if you ask me, is definitely a clear indicator of a society in decline.


  I firmly believe that if Lewis and Clark's expedition had to subsist almost solely on the average and easily stalked 2020 Murrikan, that they would've been fine due to the incredibly high fat content of our meat. Not to mention all the second harvest Wendy's they could've scooped from our still warm innards.


  So to segue seamlessly into this next bit, I'm going to say that just as with that historic expedition, I am too facing adversity with gunpowder and sheer fuck-you'ed-ness.


  Just like Lewis And Clark: the brass balled, tougher-than-you-will-ever-think-about-being motherfuckers.

 
  Don't let their names fool you, they're were badasses. Read their damn story.



  Ahem.



   Like I alluded to in the Title of this installment, things haven't really been going well. Two weeks after the water went away the world lost it's mind and everything went mule-dick crazy, all societal norms went out the window. Turns out some really thirsty people decided they will absolutely cut your throat for a bottle of Dasani and that sentiment spread wildly among other dehydrated folk. Despite our societal lethargy, turns out a lot of humans can still adapt quickly to paradigm shifts that involve their survival. Chief among them is the killing of other people to obtain resources necessary to their continued existence.


  Duh. 


 
  If you were harboring any illusions that this wouldn't be the case, I'm pleased to announce that you were wrong. Humans, especially those accustomed to an easy lifestyle, will revert to angry, homicidal-chimp mode much quicker than a human acquainted with deprivation.


  So, you know, shoot anyone on sight wearing nice clothing. They're savages, trust me.


  
  Ergo, things have gotten a bit uglier than most of the population saw coming. The preppers of course are mostly fine, having made their out to the secret bunkers where they eat rehydrated food and comment on the fall of civilization and presumably fuck a lot.


  Myself on the other hand, one who prepped just enough to ride out the initial chaos and culling of the Amurrikan population am finally running dry on supplies and getting hungry.


 And although there are no accurate numbers to be had, I'd be willing to bet at least 6 cans of ravioli that out of a population of 330 million, after a month without any of the trappings of civilization, that a third of us are already gone.


  And I'm proud to say that I haven't eaten a single one of them so far!





  But having said that, here are some of the atrocities I've perpetrated since shit went down. In the spirit of full disclosure.


 

  -I beat a dwarf to death with a mace a friend made me over a package of rancid pancetta which I attempted to use in a carbonara. The problem is the dog milk I'd harvested for the sauce had gone sour and I'd long since eaten the dog who'd provided it thus negating the chance of getting more milk. I felt with his physical limitations the dwarf should've been carrying a firearm, but I am glad he wasn't because:

A) I didn't get shot, and

B) I didn't have to expend a round killing the wee fuck. It was like clubbing to death a wounded porcupine. It wasn't fast in the first place....


   -I shot a guy from my window who was yelling about Jesus at what I felt to be an inappropriately early hour in the morning. When things first went fucky, I used to yell at these Jesus Freaks to shut up, give them the opportunity to move somewhere where I couldn't hear them and where their brains could potentially remain in their skull. Now I just shoot them without any warning.


     I'm trying to sleep for fuck's sake.*1


   -I ran over a kid on a skateboard because I could. Seriously it's the end of the world and just by being outdoors at the same time as me makes you a rival. And now that murder is an outdated notion gassed forth by the corpse of society, well, sometimes it's best to preemptively off someone in case they may be a future competitor for dwindling resources.


   Especially if they're a minor and they make themselves super easy to kill. Sometimes you just can't help it.




  -I improvised weapons with insanely cute kittens as the delivery vector. God help me.


  -I, without remorse or prejudice, rained fiery death down upon the chaos on the street below me via Molotov Cocktails. People really should've chosen a different area to slaughter one another at than underneath my window.


  That cost me a fair portion of my gas reserves as well as many empty vodka bottles. Although the greasy fire beneath my window may have been considered festive under the right circumstances, I found it too much like a pig roast to truly enjoy it. Made me think about harvesting some crackling or asymmetrical boiled leather armor bits.



  But I'm not going to apologize for it and despite my protests otherwise, I can totally foresee myself eating the fuck out of other humans rather than starve or kill myself.



  I am prepared in the spice department as well as other areas.




 Yours in protein acquisition,

-Apocalypse Herder














*1 Honestly I just shoot them all anymore no matter what time of day it is and whether I'm trying to sleep or not. All that clamoring just brings more two legged predators around and frankly I can't be having all that. I'd rather spend 2 or 3 rounds painting a sidewalk with insane person brains than spend 20 or 30 rounds defending my habitat from a bunch of opportunistic potential cannibals.


I refer to this as Fuckem's Razor. It's an Apocalypse Thing.

Stalking The Ruins In Search Of Appropriately Soft Cloth: How The Shit-Ticket Wars Devastated My Neighborhood. Or, The Cannibal Gangs Are Really Starting To Get Frisky.

  Even after all the chaos, killing and pointless atrocities, I still can't believe it was the lack of toilet paper that sparked the madness which utterly destroyed my neighborhood. Not the lack of meat or readily available protein. Not the memory of bread. Not the absence of Coca Cola.


  In the end it was the inability to adapt to wiping our cooters and/or assholes with something other than plush, quilted toilet paper that sent the populace over the edge.


  Turns out the average American can deal without having burgers or kielbasa and sauerkraut for much longer than they can deal with the trauma of wiping their excretory bits with something other than what they were accustomed to.


  The killing started within 36 hours of the total loss of bathroom tissue. People who used to barbecue together and have block parties now savagely murdered their neighbors and friends for those sweet, sweet shit tickets.


  Gleeful butchery as long simmering disagreements over hedges, property lines and jealousy over lighting arrangements boiled over into all out intra-street warfare, with the underlying triumph being the seizure of your slaughtered neighbor's stash of quality ass-wipe fodder along with whatever of their other possessions took your fancy.


 
  Luckily for me, I adapted to the post-toilet paper world readily as I had a handy supply of t-shirts which no longer fit as well as dozens of socks with holes in the heels or toes that I had never gotten around to throwing out.


  When I ran out of those, I adapted again, utilizing old porn mags and vintage Hit Parader magazines to wipe my butt. The came the curtains and small squares of bath towels. Then stray dogs when I could catch them.


  I used whatever I had to to get by. I grew immune to remorse. Corpse hair works in a pinch, better than oak leaves by far.....


  Some folks failed to evolve, they couldn't swallow the shame and just stopped wiping altogether. They became pitiable creatures, plagued with any number of anal related hygiene problems. Generally very irritable and likely to attack with little or no provocation. As time went on, I found it best to just shoot someone who was walking funny as they were usually insane from their backdoor torments.



  I survived the turmoil be the simple expedient of having food, not really being concerned about what touched my sphincter in a cleansing aspect, and shooting every single cunt who tried to use the walls outside my door as cover as they tried to breach my reinforced door.


  I may not be able to see them, but even trained people are predictable in the available cover they choose. The only problem with their available choices are that my .45's don't recognize single walls of lathe and plaster as substantial obstacles and I have had great success just shooting these desperate fuckwits through my walls.


  The strength of your access points is critical to your survival in these marauding times. Your defense is only going to be as good as you controlling access to your space. And if you're faced with motivated and equipped enough antagonists, your best isn't gonna do unless you live in a completely self sufficient, impregnable vault.

 
  Good luck with that.





  Speaking of home defense, the Cannibal Road Gangs around here are starting to really come out of the denial closet and just flat out admit they're going to eat you if they can catch or shoot you. While I appreciate their transparency, having to constantly fight them off is taking a toll on my ammo supply. Sure, they collect their dead for pot roast so I don't have to smell them and that's nice. But it's not like they're doing it for me.


  I'm not opposed to the idea of cannibalism per se, in fact I have stockpiled many dry rubs and marinades in preparation for the day I must feast on long pig or die. That being said, context is everything and while having to eat a fallen comrade for survival is an unpleasant prospect, actively hunting down other people for food and enjoying the act seems a bit excessive to me and I hope at some point another option becomes available other than suicide.


  In all honesty, this new world which we find ourselves in: post toilet paper, post law enforcement, post morality, post easily obtainable food, post vodka, does have it's own pleasures. I can't lie to you and say that I didn't enjoy killing all those feral scumbags that tried to kick down my door and take all my stuff after filling me full of lead.


  I did.


  I was defending my cat. I love her but to a hungry stranger I can easily see how delicious she looks. I can't be having any of that. If anyone's going to eat her, it's going to be me. And I'll cry while I do it.



  But that's the world we live in nowadays. Full of tears and greatly lacking in air conditioning.



The Former Herder of Strippers,
The StripperHerder