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Posted: September 7th, 2007, 1:41pm CDT
You've probably heard about the hurricane that may be wending its way toward our city. CBS News reports that the storm—now in its infancy over the Atlantic—may very well turn into a category 1 hurricane before it lashes our shore over the weekend. While experts are still unsure as to whether the storm will maintain its position long enough to gather the necessary wind, we're of the opinion that it's better to be prepared for the worst. We don't want you to panic, obviously, but this is how things will play out.
Is there really going to be a hurricane?
Well, as we noted above, no one can say with any real certainty. But, yes, there is going to be a hurricane. It is going to wreak terrible damage on the city, leaving a wake of death and destruction not seen in this area since those riots in the Bronx back in the seventies.
That sounds terrible. What can I do to prepare for it?
Apart from fleeing immediately, nothing. Oh, sure, you can go to the grocery store and panic-shop for provisions, but they're not going to be of much use. Once this baby hits, all bets are off. Society will be divided into two groups: Marauding zombie rapists who will take advantage of the chaos and lawlessness to feed their insatiable rape urges, and everyone else, referred to from here on out as "rapees."
Oh, come on. Is it really going to be that bad?
It's going to be worse. Here's what's going to happen: The combination of wind shear and chronic rain is going to snap our crappily-constructed bridges in two almost instantly. Tunnels will flood and collapse. The authorities will consider sending boats or air carriers to help evacuate the island, but will decide against it because of the more-than-reasonable fear of being raped. Escape from Manhattan will be all but impossible. Shelter will likewise be difficult to find: While many of our buildings are supposedly constructed to withstand these kind of storms, city inspectors are notoriously easy to bribe. Many of the structures you see in Manhattan are actually constructed of balsa wood and sheetrock. With almost nowhere left to hole up, you will be easy prey for the zombie rapists, who will be hypersensitized to the presence of rapee flesh due to the high humidity and their boundless desire to rape. As night falls, the ass-raping will begin. By day two of the storm, those rapees who have somehow survived twenty-four hours of being brutally violated in every imaginable orifice will be chained together and marched down to Ground Zero, where they will become participants in a Zombie Rape Olympics. (Particularly painful: The Synchronized Raping competition.)
Now you've got me worried. I really don't want to get raped by zombies. Is there any way to defend myself?
Conventional weapons have no effect on the zombie rapists. Fuelled by the adrenaline that comes from continually violating the bodies of unwilling victims, the rapists are almost impervious to knives and bullets. Your best bet is to smack them on the nose, like a shark, which will momentarily distract them, but be warned: This makes the zombie rapists extremely agitated. Should they catch you as you attempt to flee, you will be mouth-raped. Repeatedly. Then they will eat you.
So basically you're telling me that this hurricane is going to turn New York into an island of rape-crazed zombies who will rape everyone in their path and will not stop raping until there's no one left to rape, and there's nothing I can do about it except get raped a lot?
More or less. But you can save yourself by leaving now. NOW. Drop what you're doing and get on a train or a bus or an airplane and leave the city immediately. All of you. Clear out of New York for this weekend, please. It's the only way we're going to be able to get into Wakiya this Saturday, which we stupidly forget to make a reservation for last month and are now in a serious amount of trouble that has resulted in a withdrawal of sexual services for the last week and an endless tirade of abuse about how inconsiderate, thoughtless, and insensitive we are, not to mention we're crap in bed. But we're thinking about you here: Leave New York now or you're going to be raped. You heard it here first.
Potential Tropical Storm Could Strike NYC [WCBS]
With the possible exceptions of various sarcastic asides by John Dickerson and Jack Shafer, online journal of contrarianism Slate has run like one intentionally funny piece in its 100 year history—this examination of Chuck Klosterman jacket photos by Doree—so we're not entirely sure why they keep trying. Humor is not really your bag, Slate! Today we received an ominous email from Slate's indefatigable flack: "Slate V Spoofs Lolcats: Polcats—What if Barack and Hillary Wuz Kittehs?" It might go... a little something... like this: