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It's 2010 now. And you know what that means--only two more years until the apocalypse. That is, only two years left according to those folks who somehow decided that the end of the current Mayan calender (2012) must harbor profound and lasting effects on the world as we know it. And these guys know what they're talking about. I mean, come on. Look at the evidence. Oh, there isn't any evidence? Hmm. Oh well. Never mind the evidence part. Look at all the speculation! Surely you can't argue with the speculation. RememberY2K? I bet you felt like you had egg on your face after ignoring all the speculation back then once all the bombs went off and all the electricity failed and everyone simultaneously coughed, burped, and farted. Oh right, that didn't happen. (But it could have). Ok. Forget I mentioned Y2K. And forget all those other times when everyone was positive that the world was coming to an end (note: nearly every generation since the dawn of man). This time it's really going to happen. The point is, I'm excited for the upcoming apocalypse. And you should be, too.

Imagine for a moment that the apocalypse has gone down. You no longer have any obligation to your family. Your wife has maybe gained a little more weight than you would prefer after having your two children who time and time again have proven to be nothing more than a drain on your wallet and incapable of having the simplest of conversations regarding Derrida and deconstructionism (or sports, if that's your thing). Also, your kids are ugly. Anyway, they're on their own now, buddy! You're 100% free to strap on your black, spray-painted shoulder pads and drive off in your dune-buggy. Of course, you don't want to forget your trusty baseball bat with the nails sticking out of the end lest you be captured by the freakishly large, mutated via radiation, squirrel-birds. Those things can sting pretty bad when they bite. Also, their hyper-condensed radium spit is prone to turning even the bravest marauder into a slowly decomposing mass of flesh. But, hey, that's what those shoulder pads are for, right? The point is you're free. Well, not entirely, of course. There are still some things you'll need to do before you'll be truly free.

First of all, you'll need to secure plenty of aluminum cans. Your best bet is to ring the nearest church bell to summon the closest marauders within earshot (standard post-apocalyptic phone call). Let's assume your town has two rival factions. When the groups show up, challenge their leaders to a death race for all their cans. One gang will inevitably be run by a ruthless guy named “Torpo” with a gigantic scar running diagonally down his face. You'll know Torpo as the guy wearing the most chains as a shirt and a clean-shaven head minus the one braid emerging from the side of his skull. The other gang will be lead by a similarly ruthless, totally banging, girl named “Alexis.” Alexis will be the hottest member of her gang. And she'll be donned in oily rags that somehow only make her look that much more appealing. When the race starts, do not immediately go for the gold. The race has delivered a perfect opportunity for Torpo to make an attempt at Alexis' life, thus paving the way for dominance over the entire region. Once Torpo has deployed his novelty-sized, spring-loaded boxing glove successfully causing Alexis to crash, you're clear to win the race. Regardless of whether you win or lose (which, for some reason, is entirely dependent on how much time you've spent shooting womp-rats in your youth), Torpo will demand all of your cans and try to kill you. Fortunately, Alexis will have survived the crash, and she'll kill Torpo. For whatever reason, she'll also ask to come along with you on your journey. Why she would be willing to give up her new found queenship for an asshole like you is anyone's guess. But let's say for the sake of narrative that she's tired of the marauder life. And she wants to see what's out there. (Note: After the apocalypse, “what's out there” is slang for “your junk”.) Congratulations! By effectively shooting two squirrel-birds with one stone, you've just secured all of the aluminum cans you could ever possibly need.

Now that you have your cans, you and Alexis need to head to wherever the de facto Government is now located. You'll find out where the Government is by one of two ways: A) you will have something that they want (i.e. some useless artifact from the “before time”), they'll take it from you, and then you can simply follow them, or B) quit being an idiot. You obviously know where the Government is located. I mean, for Christ's sake, it's the Government! Again for the sake of narrative, let's assume that it's option A. The trip itself will be fairly uneventful and would best be acknowledged by means of a montage. (This is assuming montage capabilities exist after the apocalypse.) The montage will consist of you looking like a badass driving down an unnamed road, fighting off small bands of marauders, and shots of Alexis taking off her rags to reveal her boobs (which infers that you get to have sex with her). The montage will end with your dune-buggy entering a ruined city that will represent your arrival to the Government's domain.

Once you're in the City, you need to find a way into the Government's stronghold. You shouldn't have too tough of a time locating the stronghold as it will be the tallest building with luminous black clouds and broken skulls surrounding it. Though you won't be able to get in, a crazy old man will leap out of nowhere and offer to lead you into the building through a secret underground entrance (that only he knows about) if you're willing to hand over all of your aluminum cans. This is exactly why you've collected the cans. Give them to the lunatic and follow him into the sewers. BEWARE! The crazy old coot will double-cross you. However, this is why you've allowed Alexis to join you in the first place (also, the kickass humping). She will sacrifice herself to save you by jumping in front of the not-so-inconspicuous harpoon the old man has been lugging around with him. At this point, the old man will run off into the darkness, cans and all, and you'll have to say something badass to Alexis as she coughs blood and eventually dies. Asking her if she wants to have sex one last time is probably inappropriate considering that she's dying and all, so instead say something like “Remember all that boning we did? Well, I'm gonna screw the Government so hard it's going to have multiple orgasms just like you did.” This is only a metaphor. Do not attempt to physically screw the Government.

Despite the fact that the old man double-crossed you, he did successfully lead you to the promised secret entrance to the Government's headquarters. Once inside, you'll need to stealthily kill every motherfucker you see. Don't get too cocky though, as the alarm will sound at some point. And you'll have to book your way up to the top floor right quick. As every single guard is looking for you, the door to the President won't be secure. And you can pretty much waltz right in. The President will either be Arnold Schwarzenegger with war paint all over his face OR a (temporarily) calm and collected Gary Oldman. Whoever he is, he'll say something like “Nobody's ever made it as far as you have” and “What did you think you were going to accomplish by coming here?” It doesn't really matter how you reply because he's going to call the guards in that were somehow standing right outside the door even though they weren't there like a second ago. Don't worry about the guards if you can help it; just go after the President. Once he falls, everyone else will treat you like Dorothy after she killed the wicked witch in The Wizard of Oz. Kill that bastard and slowly walk away all covered in blood and sweat. This is your last opportunity to say something baddass, so I suggest it be damned good. “The bigger they are, the harder they fall,” is a perfect example of the lamest thing you could possibly say. Instead, try for something like “Business is good, the death business, or the business of death, or my killing you business” followed immediately by a hearty scream as you run down a mist-filled hall for no apparent reason.

Now that the Government is no more and all the ports have been opened once again, you can head to the harbor and charter a boat with the wise old captain that you've known since you were a kid or some shit. He'll take you, free of charge to a remote, isolated island. There you can relax and spend the rest of your life a completely free man. Oh, and a completely starving to death man.

I hope this comprehensive guide will be useful to you in the post-apocalypse. I know that in these pre-post-apocalyptic times, it doesn't seem like this sort of thing is all that important. But one day I'm sure you'll thank me and the internet for supplying you with the best instructions possible for handling the apocalypse. In the meantime, enjoy life as it is today. Someday, you're gonna miss air pollution, miles of fast-food restaurants, and Nick Cage movies.