Life isn’t so bad. Living in anarchy has it’s perks. For example, I’m my own boss. Well, minus my actual boss, the one who makes my hours (and can take them away). Sure, I can’t go to the park or swim in the Great Lakes or the ocean. But, enforcement isn’t that strict. Just get your grandpa and a few of his drinking buddies to help you storm the beach. Tell them, it’ll be just like Normandy.
Taxes are still taken out of my paycheck to fund a government that doesn’t work, so no change there (too easy [hey, I couldn’t avoid it]).
Law-abiding citizens don’t really know what to do; but those of us who weren’t de-clawed by the government are using our guns to form a militia to defend this country, just in case. I mean, when you live in anarchy, anything can happen. We might even invade France, just because (too soon?).
It’s unclear yet, just how long this will last, but I’ve begun hoarding food and supplies. Bandages and toilet paper will become scarce. I haven’t got my defenses laid out; but my neighbor’s front lawn looks like a graveyard. I think it’s urban camouflage. Another house as guards posted around the clock: a giant pumpkin, a headless horseman, and a green skinned witch. It looks like the neighborhood is taking the threat seriously and preparing accordingly.
At least, I can still go to work and get paid. With everything shut down, it’d be a shame to get paid without going to work. Wait a second…I think it’s time to put in for a vacation. If Congress can get paid to not work, so can I (yes we can!).