"Post-Apocalyptic Greeting Cards"
The future is ripe with misery and misfortune. Not totally unlike classic disasterpiece movies of the late 20th century (Mad Max, Waterworld, Forrest Gump), the world we know will become a hazardous land of mutants, sub-mutants and professional dog groomers.
But in the topsy-turvy world of blood and carnage, we have to remember the simple things. The good things. The very, very few simple and good things.
But in the topsy-turvy world of blood and carnage, we have to remember the simple things. The good things. The very, very few simple and good things.
Like birthdays. Everyday, hundreds of birthday cards are printed on remnants of cardboard and aluminum house-siding and shipped feverishly across Continental Sector 17 (a.k.a. The Former American Midwest; a.k.a Death Zone 3000) on the post-man's bonecycles and flown across toxic skies in cannibal hovertanks.
Yes, the world would be a less horrible place if eight year olds get an envelope of wood shavings from Grandma in the future. It would also be less horrible if Guinea Pigs never acquired a taste for flesh.
