Chet Vincent & The Big Bend

Alright, I know the Rapture is only 12 or so hours away, but I thought I’d put together some essential tactics and strategies before the big day. Enjoy!

Offense/Defense and Gear

If you’re like me, you don’t own a gun. This is a problem. You’re going to need a gun. Like, bad. I recommend trying to find a merchant in the parking lot of the East Liberty Home Depot. I know you can buy speakers there. If you can’t get a gun, I recommend the most badass of all primitive weapons; the broom handle with antlers on the end, (as seen in Braveheart!). No one will fuck with you. That is, unless they have a gun.

Odds are you’re not going to be getting quality sleep during the end of days; what with all the screaming and explosions and meteorites. Your going to need caffine, (preferably in pill form - like those gawdy, insect-related 4 packs you see at the front of Citgo’s), and any other kind of accelerant you can think of. And let’s get real here - you’re going to need drugs. Hard drugs. And lots of them. Make some calls. Stop and ask a landscaping truck. Or continue to wait patiently in the Home Depot parking lot.

You’re going to need spray paint to write shit. It’s vital.

As far as water goes… My grandpa always said it was cool to drink from the Mon. Shrug.

Understanding Perishable Goods

When the Rapture comes, you’ll be faced with a hard reality; you’re never going to eat another chicken quesadillas or Heath Bar Blizzard again. That’s why I recommend making a Dairy Queen run NOW. If you have the money, pay in cash. Cash is also perishable. It’s not going to be worth dick in 3 days. If you don’t have cash, that’s why you have the antler stick. Jam it in a dude’s face. Get used to it. Savor your frozen treat because soon you’ll be eating dogs. Within a week people will flock to the hills of West Virginia in Mad Max-style caravans to harvest meat at puppy mills. 

Family

Avoid, avoid, avoid! First off, don’t go home. Straight up. The rapture’s going to start… it’s going to be all over tv… your mom’s going to INSIST you eat dinner with the family… She’s not going to want you to leave… on and on and on - RAPTURE BUZZKILL. Stay away from this nonsense. NOTE: If you were thinking you might have been adopted or are concerned one of your parents had an affair or both - DO NOT GO HOME.

Vengeance and Women

This preparation should start at the end of the work day TODAY.

Coworkers you never really liked/dicks, (even borderline ones), should get a big “fuck you” or a “suck it”. You know, why not? Maybe send a mass email with the Santonio Holmes cock pictures. There’s a good chance that in 36 hours you’ll be drowned and bloated on the banks of the Montour Crick by the old Wickes Furniture. So be sure to tell off as many people as possible.

That hot chick from the 2nd floor of your building? The freaky goth barista at Kiva Han? Your friend’s barely legal sister? Give these chicks the location of a rock you plan check underneath semi-frequently during the rapture. This will serve as the “Casual Encounters” portion of your own personal armageddeon craigslist.

NOTE: Women are not turned off by promiscuity during the rapture. If anything they’ll be impressed by your ability to juggle women with so much going on.

Anyone you have serious unfinished business with, who is also local, you should confront - at least verbally, (while phones still work). If they’re really close, go to their house and spray paint “I have food and blankets” on their garage door. That way, when shit really gets out of control they’re home will get doubly looted. If you get there and they’re already dead, (killed by looters or some kind of ”I’m a pussy and can’t bear to do sweet shit during the rapture! Wah wah wah!” suicide), put lipstick on that dude - immediatley. It’s not quitedesecration of a corpse. This way scavenging hoardes of foot traffic will see this guy, dead, wearing lipstick, and they’ll think to themselves, “Weeeirrrdo…”

What ever you do to make peace, err.. the opposite of peace…, pre-rapture, make sure you DON’T GET ARRESTED. Jail is even less sweet during the rapture. It’s like having to sit in the hallway during lunch recess.

Your Virtual Footprint

Plan on all parchment and physical copies of information to be burned or destroyed by biblical flood waters. Several milenia from now, some other species will come to inhabit this burnt, water-logged turd of a planet, (probably some cockroach/possum hybrid). Either way, when these things start using computers, you’re going to want to look sweet.

Spend 20 minutes to create, (or update), a wikipedia page. 

Just cover the bases: respected family man… lover of both cockroaches and  possums… often regaurded as the coolest dude ever… dick like a coffee thermos… Stuff like that.

Be sure to update your facebook statuses, gmail away messages, and so forth with cheery quips about the rapture designed to ANNOY THE PISS OUT OF PEOPLE.

For example:

Sheesh! Is it getting hot outside or is it just me? ;)

Judgement day? ON WING NIGHT?! fml.

Let’s go Bucs!

Living Like It’s the Rapture/Not Being a Bitch

If you’re not looting, doing meth, and you’re still using condoms - YOU’RE NOT GETTING IT.

It’s the rapture. Shit is on fire. The air smells terrible. There’s sodomy in the streets. Angels are snatching-people-the-fuck-up.

Throw shit off your roof. Spray paint “Praise Allah” on the side of a church - even though it’s mid-rapture, (NOTE: irony will not be lost in the rapture). Light smoke bombs. Explore the sewers. Listen to “Hold On Loosely” while you drive a city bus through the storefront of a Domino’s. That’s rapture. Scaring kids is rapture. Freeing animals from the zoo is rapture. Hiding in a bomb shelter like a bitch is so NOT rapture.

It’s a personal choice; do you want to die huddled in a damp basement with your loving family?.. Or, do you want to die strung out, blood-thirsty, dressed like the Ultimate Warrior, and beaten to death by a starving mob for stealing canned goods? That’s what I thought.

Becoming a War Lord

You’ve made it this far and I congratulate you for it. This is really the end game to your human life. In the miserable, charred ruins of Pennsylvania there’s only two things you can look forward to: regular meals and getting laid. To do this, you’ll need man power and that means underlings. Dimwitted, yet obedient, underlings. These dudes are going to do your foraging, booze-finding, chick abducting and all that other bullshit that you’re too busy runnin’ shit to do. Also, you may want to construct a throne of skulls. Something to think about.

So You’re at the Mercy of God…

Look, this is God’s party, like, Old Testament shit. So keep your head down and don’t say much. I know He doesn’t seem happy, but God knows you’re human.

And more importantly - God is a dude. Chicks say God is a chick, but let’s get serious. God is a dude. God likes football. And swimsuit calendars. And pratical jokes, (putting lipstick on a corpse notwithstanding). If you didn’t kill anyone, you’re probably good… depending how far along you got in the war lord game. If you’re trading sex slaves with the Ohio war lord, you’re probably not good. Worst case scenario you get 1,200 years in purgatory.

I know what you’re thinking, “Tad… that’s an eternity, (even though it’s really not, and that’s the whole point). And, frankly, I can’t help but feel that most of my sentence was based on things I did during the rapture -  based on your hand book!” 

I’d like to respond to those claims… IT WAS THE FUCKING RAPTURE. Do you think God was losing sleep about you double-parking a stolen Jetta while you got drunk and dicked off at Kenny Wood during the rapture? Absolutley not. Okay, some things in this manuel added some years, no doubt, but most of your penance is coming from grade school masturbation. 

NOTE: Though God is cool with most dude-stuff, this is one sin he just won’t budge on. 

In closing…

This is a rare opportunity. Rapture? Are you kidding me? It’s going to be sweet. But… It’s only going to be as sweet as you make it. So live it up; Get your hands dirty. Get your money’s worth. I know I am. In about 4 hours I’m going to tell off that bartender at Silky’s. Then I’m going to get hammered drunk. I want to be wasted when I break my first liquor store window.

See you out there!