Tuesday, July 13, 2010


It was the year 2035, and things were just settling down after a busy and incomprehensibly destructive apocalypse. Fundamentalists had all been whisked away in their respective raptures, and the remaining survivors were breathing relatively freely now that there was nobody around to tell them how shitty they were all the time.

As life resumed and homes were rebuilt using pieces of charred cereal boxes and copies of Twilight XXI: The Thirst for Poo, all of the anticipated po-apoco issues arose one by one. Looting, lawlessness, zombie handling and reintegration, fire and explosion management, roving motorcycle gangs, hairdo confusion, Kevin Costner's gills, birth control, rebellious robots, illicitly replicated dinosaurs, nuclear fallout, pending alien invasions, and perhaps the greatest detriment to human civilization: bad attitudes. While everyone generally agreed that things were nicer without the fundamentalists, an overwhelming amount of the surviving population remained fairly pessimistic about life, something that the future historians eventually dubbed as society's "apocalypubescent phase".

Naturally, the most pressing of issues was food, and the eating thereof. Initial attempts at gardening only resulted in radiation-mutated man-eating flowers and vegetable gardens. This plummeted humankind's morale even lower, as the plants also indulged in loud and windless rants, detailing point-by-point how people had ruined everything and deserved to become extinct. The initial warrior-harvestors soon became so despondent during their annual autumn reap-fests that they returned to their apoco-villiages with slow dragging heels and unbearably gloomy countenances. They were eventually barred from reentering their communities, as the clever chiefs knew that allowing such downers to infiltrate would be disastrous to their future survival. Nobody likes a downer :(

So, yeah. Food was low. The first to empty were the supermarkets, then the restaurant kitchens, then food supply warehouses, then mormon cold storage rooms. When everything, from ding-dongs to "Grandmother Hatch's Famous Tex-Mex Salsa", appeared to be gone, society was left with a choice: battle the demoralizing, vicious and monstrous radi-gardens, or eat each other. It wasn't long before previous-friends started seeing each other as t-bone steaks and roast chickens, and it was at this time of awful cannibal consideration that a hero stumbled into light with some great news.

Warehouses. Full. Of edible underpants.

You can probably imagine the exulted joy that the survivors felt upon receiving this news. Not only because they were hungry, but also because most of them had run out of clean underpants. So the new age of civilization began upon the currency and incredible value of these piquant panties. As it happens, there were ten thousand such warehouses, and seeing as how there was only about 500 survivors, they were set for generations to come. Even once the radiation thing had settled and zombies had mastered the entertainment industry, society was entirely content with the seemingly infinite varieties, styles and flavours of these delicious, slightly erotic, and oddly indestructible briefs. At long last, there was peace in the world.

And that, dear children, is why we are celebrating today. On this, our Independipanties Day. The hero who discovered our plentipantiful future, as you all know, was Bill Pullman IV. Let us bow our heads and give thanks to the Gods of PlentiPanties.