Spent the night in the wilderness. Cold. Alone. Forsaken.
I think that I bedded down in a clump of poison ivy, no doubt growing rampant due to lack of federal government funding. That's what the mushrooms told me. It was kind of odd that they didn't start talking to me until after I ate them, but it all makes sense now. Now I know. And knowing is half the battle!
Thankfully, my cell phone battery is holding out, so I am able to spread my message... flee, flee, ye fools, from the wrath that is to come!
It is only a matter of time before cell phone towers start falling, killing everyone in their wake. Bridges and roads and monuments and buildings and all that start decaying immediately if they're not kept in the presence of a soothing flow of federal government money. Soon rabid squirrels will run rampant through the streets, infecting everyone with the zombie plague, just like the NIH warned before they went dark.
Went dark. Dark. Dark. Cold. Itchy.
You would think that everyone would know all that, wouldn't you? I am pretty sure they covered that in high school civics class. Or maybe it was in health class. Whatever. It's common knowledge. Lack of federal government spending equals climate change, rampant erosion, acid rain, plagues of locusts and ravening hordes of post-apocolyptic barbarians fleeing from mutant rabid squirrels. Ipso Facto, E Plurbus Unum. Cruscio Reductio! Fuego! Fuego! Iä! Iä! Cthulhu Fhtagn!
The mushrooms are telling me I should probably not eat any more of them. Just in case.