Sunday, July 06, 2008

If there are 2 eyes in my head, there are 4 seasons in a year

Movies about a dystopian future always inspired me. Running through a world reduced to crunchy gravel covered with tattered buildings and simple machines seems like the perfect place to be the next people’s champion. Food and water would be scarce, but you would never have feel like you didn’t live in peace. No cell phones, door to door salesman, spam, Asimos, or local TV news. You wouldn’t have an alarm clock ruining your life every morning, and people would never take your parking space. You would just wake up whenever you felt like it. You just roll out of your cave, or if you are lucky, a dilapidated building, and wait for the day to bring you something.

The post-apocalyptic world is yours.

There wouldn’t be many people around so everyone with in a 20-mile radius will most likely know you. You wouldn’t be self conscious about not having many friends because everyone would be in the same boat. Hunting for all of your food might sound awful, but the agility needed to do so will leave you lean and ripped, which is a god thing considering you will be wearing scraps of clothing. Shoulder pads topped with spikes and feathers will only look good if you have nice biceps.

All of the cars would be totally gnarly with their cages for bodies and huge wheels perfect for patrolling around a desolate earth. There would be no cops around to stop you for driving to fast or blowing stop signs. You might have to evade gangs of cannibals though. Just you, the road and contaminated air flowing through your unkept hair.

In all of those movies about post-apocalyptic earth (Mad Max trilogy, Escape From New York, Tank Girl, Ghost Dad, some parts in The Terminator) the hero always has a legion of people on his side. There is no government holding them back, just a calvacade of dirty faces waiting for them to unlock a new water supply being held captive by a band of rogues traveling on motorcycles and dune buggies. The people the heroes in these movies save aren’t asking for much.

So when you want to bitch about gas and the suffering economy don’t imagine a world where everything is free. Imagine a world in ruins. When some stoner is talking about the Terminator and exclaims, “That SHIT is GONNA HAPPPPPEN MANNNN!” Don’t wince or sniff at their comment, embrace it. Welcome it. Just imagine folks: No distractions, lack of parking, awkward silence, retro sneakers, hipsters, Soulja Boy, fake wrestling, real wrestling, or online gaming. And when you are caught in a convo when someone is bitching and catches themselves and sheepishly mutters, “It could be worse.” Just reply, “I hope it gets worse.”