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Tag: Trumpocalypse

Trumpocalypse Now?

TrumpocalypseNow

Fear fatigue. You have it too? The pundits are predicting a face-melting future and everybody’s afraid that the sky is falling. But at the end of the day, all these end-of-the-world rants are just, well… rants, aren’t they?

See, I grew up under the threat of nuclear war. The leaders of the two most powerful countries in the world — the US and Russia — both announced they were willing to nuke each other. They publicly decreed they would nuke the world! So forgive me if this fear of a boardroom blowhard Oompa-Loompa leaves me just a little bit underwhelmed.

I refuse to give in to fear, to be controlled by it. We’re better than that.

That’s why I wrote “Escape to Ash Island” — to share a vision of a world after all this has gone. A new world, rising from the ashes of the old. Full of hope and humor and humanity. It’s a weird book. It’s not for everybody. Not the usual doom-and-gloom that most dystopian novels give us. Because I believe, in the end, we’ll live past all this fear, and start building a better world for everybody.

“An entertaining read about friendship and the survival of hope, set in a vividly imagined world.” –Examiner.com

Healthy doses of wonder, humor, and terrorizing fantasy creatures. A really enjoyable read, really well done!” –Writership

So if you want to get a glimpse of a different future, check it out. You’ve got nothing to lose but fear itself. Huzzah!

PS: to keep up with what’s happening next, join my mailing list!

I am a refugee from the US…

CvH_Spanish1

Tucked deep inside the bag’s nether regions (OMG you saw the Trump-Pence logo, right?) is a helpful list of Spanish phrases. These will come in handy in your escape to Mexico, when you need to translate useful phrases like:

How many nutrient-cubes for this scrap metal?

Don’t laugh, you’re gonna need that. And the scrap metal. Nutrient-cubes don’t grow on trees, you know. Well, they might have once. Back when there were trees.

Let’s see what else is in here…

The Donald’s secret love…

Wrapped up in a tiny baggie was what appeared to be a necklace with a strange gold disk. But what could be inside the shiny amulet? What magical golden talisman could give me hope in the Trumpocalypse? What secrets could it—OH MY GOD!!!

CvH_locket

It’s the master of hopey/changey himself, Barack Obama! But what could it mean??? Having lost all hope for America’s political future, I rubbed it and made a wish… and dug deeper inside the bug-out bag…

Inside the Trump bug-out bag…

CvH_bag

A couple months ago, the crazy card game Cards Against Humanity announced a special collector’s edition bonus pack, aimed to help you survive the impending Trumpocalypse…

Under Trump’s America, you and your family will wander desolate highways, taking shelter in burnt-out automobiles as you escape the Red Dust. You will wish you had the tools to start fires in the terrifying night and protect yourself from roving gangs of bandits. Keep your loved ones safe for only $25.

And thus, the Donald Trump bug-out bag was born. They sold out immediately.

All 10,000 bags have sold out. When Donald Trump is elected President, you will perish in the wasteland. Sorry.

But not before my clever wife got her order in! And yesterday, when we got home from work, it was sitting on our porch, waiting for us. Everything we would need for our future life in Trump’s America.

Filled with glee and apprehension, we took it into the back yard. Because it’s not safe to open such things indoors. Knowing the CvH folks, there’s no telling what’s inside. For all we know, they could’ve drugged up a Chupacabra and stuffed it in there. So into the yard it goes…

Zipping it open slowly, the first thing on top was a small stack of small manila envelopes. Envelope #1…

CvH_envelope1

Open only in case of dire emergency? There was the electric feeling of impending doom in the air, but no, it wasn’t dire. Not yet. Proceed with caution to envelope #2…

CvH_envelope2

Currency? Exactly what constitutes currency when a blustering Oompa-Loompa takes over your country? Fearful it might contain unruly hair samples from said Oompa-Loompa, I reached for envelope #3…

CvH_envelope3

An application for Mexican residency? Had it really come to this? And would it really be recognized? Would they really let me over Trump’s wall to that mythical land of rapists and good people and what-not?

Clutching the envelopes in my trembling hands, I knew I wasn’t ready for what was inside. But I had no choice. I had to keep going…

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