Can a surrender bring back the government?

Two weeks into the apocalypse and things are changing quickly.  No running water (the Feds own the water).  No hamburgers (the Feds own the cows). No electricity (the Feds own the electric grid).  The Feds own everything (for our benefit).

With the federal government shut down the remnants of humanity with me behind the barricades have devolved.  Without cable hope is gone.

But just as I thought the world has gone to hell forever from the other side of the barricades come refugees.  They are excited and claim to have a solution that will bring the god of government back into our lives.

They call themselves “Republicans.”

“Surrender is how to do it” is their battle cry.

It’s simple.  All we have to do is give the half-chocolate god everything he wants and the government will resume.  We have to stop resisting.  The half-chocolate man wants to increase the power of the federal government.  So do we.  The half-chocolate man wants us all to love the federal government with our whole heart, soul and mind.  So do we.  The president wants the federal government to control every aspect of our lives.  So do we.  The President wants all of us to buy health insurance or get fined.  So do we.  Don’t you see?  This shutdown makes no sense.  Only those who don’t trust the federal government want to shut it down.  There is no difference between the Democrats and us.  Surrender!  Peace and dignity through surrender!

I’m not sure I trust these so-called “Republicans.”  One of them, who calls himself their leader

We must surrender!  All salvation comes through the Federal goverment

told me that if I did not surrender it was because I was racist.

He says he’s a Senator or something.  But I think he’s actually a zombie.  So I shot him through the head.

But I cannot stop the Republicans.  They keep coming through the barricades and telling me to surrender.

The others believe them.  They try to stop me when I shoot the Republicans in the head.

Perhaps they are right.  Perhaps we should surrender and give the half-chocolate god all he wants.  If we do, food, water and electricity will return.

Is surrender too small a price to pay?

I will do my duty to the feds and surrender.

Shame really.  If I surrender I will no longer have a reason to shoot the government-lovers who call themselves Republicans in the head.

This is Manhattan Infidel, preparing to surrender.

(11019)

The government is still shutdown. Shit. It’s stil shut down.

Manhattan.  Shit I’m still in Manhattan. I’m here now.  Waiting for the Federal government to give me a mission.  Every minute I stay in my apartment I get weaker and the government shutdown gets stronger.

I’m afraid.  I’m afraid that soon the Federal government shutdown will be permanent.  And if that happens, well, then I’ll have nothing left to live for.

Today I took my usual walk through the neighborhood. (I don’t walk past the barricades.  My power is respected only inside the barricades.) One day, when I have conquered all my enemies inside the barricades I will expand my power outside.

I saw one man writing the words “Hope and Change” on the walls of the buildings that haven’t been burned down by the blood drinkers. I asked him what this hope and change was.  He claimed to have once worked for the President of the United States before the barricades went up and the outside world was closed off.  A time long ago.  A time when the Federal government still watched over us.  Before we became orphans.

You don’t talk to President Obama.  You listen to him.  The man’s enlarged my mind.  He’s a poet warrior in the classic sense.  I mean sometimes I’d say hello and he’ll walk right past you.  He won’t even notice you.  And suddenly he’ll grab you and he’ll say “Do you know I am a Constitutional scholar.  I’m the smartest man in the room.” I’m a little man.  A little man.  He’s a great man.

That man still has hope.  Hope in the Federal government.  The poor deluded man. There is no hope.  We are on our own.  Never again will I get a letter in the mail from the IRS telling me I owe them money.

I killed a man today.  I shot him down in the street. Why?  Why not.  Just to watch him die I guess.  Who will stop me?  No one.  Who’s to say that murder is immoral.  The Federal government used to tell us what was right and what was wrong.

How many people had I already killed? There were those six that I knew about for sure.  Close enough to blow their last breath in my face.

I’ve started keeping mementos of the people I’ve killed.  A watch from one.  False teeth from another.  I cut one person’s head off and use it as a paper weight.

But still I have memories.  They come to me in my dreams.   A time when the sun shone and there were no barricades in the street.  A time when I didn’t have to kill.  I can barely remember those days now since it’s been over a week.

People have started committing suicide.  And not just the usual suspects of musicians, mathematicians and bloggers.

Everybody gets everything they want.  I wanted to repent of my capitalist past and they gave me a shutdown for my sins.

I’m out there operating without any decent restraint, totally beyond the pale of any acceptable conduct.  All because the Federal government has shut down.

Someday this shutdown’s going to end.  That would be fine with the frightened people behind the barricades.  They aren’t looking for anything more than a way back home to the Federal government.

Someone once wrote, “Hell is the impossibility of reason.”  Well that’s what this place feels like – Hell.  I hate it already and it’s only been a week.  I’m so tired.  I got up at four in the morning to go to the bathroom.

No I don’t have a going problem.  I have a growing problem.  Damn enlarged prostate!

This is Manhattan Infidel.  May the Federal government rise again stronger than ever.

(796)

Is there nothing the government doesn’t own?

Water is life.  But water is scarce nowadays.  I went down to the river but the riverbank had been closed off by barricades.  The Federal government owns the water.

I tried to get past the barricades but a park ranger told me to move along.  Like all good Americans I owe my allegiance to the holy Federal government and their appointed employees. So I walked away.  I would have to get liquid somewhere else.

There are dead bodies mangled in the barricades.  Obviously they had tried to get past them but were cut down by the moral authority of the Federal park rangers.

With no access to water the neighborhood has broken down into two groups:  The blood drinkers and the urine drinkers.

Without the guidance of the Federal government humanity seems to be regressing.  Without the Federal government to tell us what do civilization is collapsing.

There was a time when order prevailed.  All Americans looked to the Federal government for strength and iPhones. All that has disappeared.

There is weird chanting in the neighborhood:  “Pray.  Pray to the half-chocolate man and the government will return!”

It has been a week since the government deserted us.  No one can even remember the President’s name anymore.  Nothing but a vague memory of a man from Hawaii named Barry.  This is who the neighborhood prays to now.  They pray to the half-chocolate man and they sacrifice their offspring to him.

“It’s for the children” said one woman before throwing her child on the fire.  “Well, not these children obviously.  But the next ones.”

It is time for one man to restore hope to fallen humanity.  I have decided that man is me.

At night I found a dead body in the street.  He was wearing a strange blue uniform and had a bag by his feet.  I opened the bag to find letters.

This is how I will restore hope to America.  I will pretend I am a postman.   I will pretend to deliver mail from outside the barricades.  Mail from far away places.  Mail from Washington D.C.

Mail is delivered by the Federal government.  Mailmen are Federal employees.  If they see me dressed as a mailman they will have hope again.  Hope and change.  Hope and change and iPhones.

So the next morning I stepped outside dressed as a mailman with my bag of letters.  I was surrounded by a crowd who were anxious for news from outside the barricades.

I addressed the crowd:

I believe in America.  I believe in the Federal government, which is functioning again by the way.  Yes.  The federal government has reconstituted itself and the President’s name is……..Richard Starkey!

I then sat down and looked at their faces.  Many were in tears at the news that the Federal government was once again functioning.  Yes, it was a lie.  But it gave hope to the masses.

Except for one person who stood up and said, “What, couldn’t Pete Best get elected?”

I had to  kill him and drink his blood.  Sometimes force is necessary to maintain hope.  And change.  And iPhones.

This is Manhattan Infidel.  I am the postman.

(1139)

The world is changing.

The world has changed.  I feel it in the water.  I feel it in the Earth. I smell it in the air. Much that once was is lost.  In the land of Washington D.C., in the fires of the Oval Office the dark lord Obama forged a government shutdown.  Into the shutdown he poured his cruelty, his malice and his will to dominate all life. One by one the government parks and war memorials beheld the power of the shutdown.

But there were some who resisted.  And they fought for the freedom of their land.  Victory was near but the power of the shutdown could not be undone.  The hearts of men are easily corrupted and the shutdown of power has a will of its own.

History became legend.  Legend became myth.  Rumors grew of a shadow in Washington D.C. and of a nameless fear. The shutdown of power grew.

The time will come when bloggers will shape the fortunes of all.

My name is Manhattan Infidel.  And this is my story of survival in the post-apocalyptic government shutdown world.

Tuesday October 8th 2013

My portable generator kicked in this morning when the power went out.  I looked out my window and saw Con Ed workers being tortured and eaten.  Fools.  Get their knowledge on how to keep the electric grid up and running before you eat them.

But I guess I can’t blame my fellow humans.  Food is scarce.

The roads are peopled by gangs looking for food.  I think it’s October but I can’t be sure.  Each day is more gray than the one before.  It’s cold and growing colder as each day the world dies without the Federal government.  No animals have survived, having already been eaten since the shelves are bare in the supermarkets.

The roads are peopled by refugees towing carts.  Cannibalism is the great fear.  That and the possibility that the Federal government will never come back and mankind will be on its own.

I have knives in my apartment.  They are necessary for self-defense.  I usually strap a few to my belt before I venture out.  I also put on a football helmet to protect myself from projectiles hurled from the tops of buildings.

The memories of the pre-shutdown world are disappearing from mankind.  Sometimes I tell the locals in the neighborhood stories of courage and justice.  Of a land called America where the rule of law was supreme.  Where people put black stuff in their cars that enabled them to drive long distances.  All that is gone now. Never to return unless the Federal government shutdown ends and they go back to providing us with free stuff.

The cars are still useful but as barricades against acts of aggression from rival war lords.

I had a run-in today with such a war lord.  He told me to hand over my knives and my football helmet.  I sliced his throat back to his spinal cord and drank his blood.  I don’t enjoy drinking blood but his gang was watching and now they know I am the dominant war lord in my neighborhood.  They fear me now.  And that is good.

At night I close my windows.  I keep sharps objects by the windows just in case my apartment is raided.  Since no one has shoes anymore I’ll be awakened by the screams of the invaders as they look at their lacerated feet.  (I saw this tactic in a Macauley Culkin movie once.)  I must study this warlord.  He has much to teach me.

My number one priority is protecting my portable generator.  Without that I cannot continue to document the post-apocalyptic world I inhabit.

Also it comes in handy when I want to update my Facebook status.

This is Manhattan Infidel signing off hopefully for not the last time.

(1015)

Blame old white men! It’s always the fault of old white men.

With the shutdown of the Federal government entering its second week and the survival of our nation, our culture, indeed our very way of life in jeopardy I have decided to devote the pages of this humble blog to the subtle and not so subtle changes in America until the resolution of this unprecedented crisis.

I will bravely continue to document what I find until I run out of food, water and electricity. If I run out of electricity I will use a portable generator.  I am prepared to risk life and limb to bring my readers the facts.

Monday October 7th, 2013

I woke up this morning dreading the impending chaos.  Still no resolution of the crisis affecting our battered, bankrupt, bleeding land.

The spirits in the sky are angry my friends.  I went out to get breakfast and noticed dead birds littering the streets.  My fellow New Yorkers scooped up the carcasses and ate them raw.  No doubt it was the first solid food they have eaten in a week.

Restaurants are closed.  “The end is near” signs hung in some windows.  “Repent!” in others.

A scraggly man with a beard accosted me.  “Why are the Republicans doing this to us?”

I had no answer for him and gave him some bubble gum from my pocket.  He consumed it, tears of gratitude flowing down his cheek. I then went back to my apartment.

Perhaps the sign was right.  Maybe it was time to repent.  Maybe this unprecedented shutdown has been foisted upon us as punishment for our sins.

The word of Psalm IV came to mind:  “Offer the sacrifice of righteousness.”

One thought came to mind:  I must find a virgin.

So I left the sanctuary of my apartment (after thoroughly bolting it shut) and went to the nearest high school to find a sacrifice of righteousness.

Unfortunately for me there were no girls at the high school. Half were home suffering from morning sickness and the other half were dropping their children off at the babysitter.

My next stop was a middle school.  I asked the first 14-year girl I saw if she would consent to be my sacrifice of righteousness.  She laughed and asked if I wanted go twerking with her.  I had no idea what this twerking is.  Perhaps it is an innocent game young girls play nowadays, similar to hopscotch?  She seemed amused by my ignorance of twerking and then asked me if I wanted a blow job.

Note to self:  Things are worse than I thought.  Young women are now selling their bodies in exchange for food and shelter.

Unable to secure a virgin for my sacrifice of righteousness I went back to my apartment building.  But before I could enter I had a confrontation with a man with a scar who called himself “Nightrider” 

You want gasoline? You go through me!

who said he was now in control of the neighborhood.

I am the Nightrider.  I’m a fuel-injected suicide machine.  I am the rocker.  I am the roller.  I am the out-of-controller!

He informed me that If I wanted gasoline I would have to go through him and pay a weekly tribute for protection.

I thanked him and went up to my apartment and collapsed on the couch, frightened and drained by what I had seen.

Damn those evil Republicans for bringing the apocalypse upon us!

My name is Manhattan Infidel.  If you are reading this you are the resistance.

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