But, as always, I must remain stalwart, and keep a cool head about me. I'm not the type to jump to conclusions. Therefore, you should understand how serious I am when I say that after reading this article about the widening gap between the rich and poor worldwide, I am officially predicting a violent class war that will leave millions dead. Not thousands. Millions. LOOK AT THESE CHARTS.
Statistics are like these hips; they don't lie. That’s why I’ve put together this little guide, to help the only people in the world I give a damn about: my readers. You guys. My Mom? Fuck my Mom. But then she started reading my blog, so we’re cool again. So listen up Mommy, or end up dead in a gutter with your skull collapsed by a gold brick.
Also, are you making ham for Thanksgiving? You really should.
HOW TO NOT DIE WHEN THE GOVERNMENTS OF THE WORLD COLLAPSE
The first thing to determine when taking part in a bloody class war is which class you belong to. Remember, the middle class has been dissolved, either through greed and failed economic policy, or in vats of acid. Class wars aren’t some bullshit sport like soccer: there are two teams, and two teams only. The rich. And the poor.
Which are you? Use this simple quiz to find out!
1. An animal head in your house is likely to be:
2. Your preferred mode of transport involves:
a) Complimentary massage.
b) Wrapping more newspaper around your stumps.
3. Quick! Look in your wallet!
a) I can’t; I have a man who carries my wallet, and he’s in the other wing.
b) I can’t; I sold it to help with the childrens’ college funds, but then, having nowhere to put the money, bought gin instead.
4. If you were a tree, what kind would you be?
a) The kind that drives an Astin Martin Vanquish.
b) The Christmas Tree from A Charlie Brown Christmas.
5. How would your broker most likely describe you?
b) “Who are you? Get away from me. Jesus, you stink.”
If you answered “a” a majority of times, congratulations! You’re rich. You will be targeted by thousands upon thousands of desperate, lonely people who want to take your wealth away by any means necessary.
If you answered “b” a majority of times, or stopped reading the questions due to illiteracy, you are likely poor. You should immediately acquire a copy of The Communist Manifesto and a mop handle.
Now that you’ve determined what side you’ll be representing in the People’s Glorious Revolution, it’s time to prepare yourself for the coming bloodbath. Follow a few of my simple, common sense tips and you’ll stand a good chance of making it to the next People’s Glorious Revolution in one piece (six at most).
And remember: If you’re poor, only read the poor section. If you’re rich, only read the rich section. I don’t want any nosy nellies ruining the class war for me. Again.
FOR POOR EYES ONLY
•Remember, all you’ve really got going for you is numbers. By the very definition of class war, there are way more of you than there are rich people. If you expect to win, you’ve got to take full advantage of that fact. Rich guy surrounded by a moat? Corpse pontoon. Hard-to-reach parapet? Corpse tower. Don’t limit yourselves. With enough corpses, anything is possible.
•Prioritize your looting: a plasma screen may seem like the hot item right now, but after power goes down nation-wide and gas kills all the crops, those cans of beans are going to look a lot more appetizing.•If all else fails, play the pity card. A moving address from a simple person with a humble heart can sway even the most jaded, entitled oil tycoon. Then, right when they’re tearing up, BAM! with the mug of coffee.
•If even the pity card fails, go for the disgust card. You may be used to the fetid smell of human and animal waste clinging to your body at all times, but I assure you, the rich are not. A quick roll in some offal before mobbing a bank can buy you valuable time while guards debate whether to toss their tear gas canisters or lose their lunches.
•When it comes to rewriting the Constitution of your country, try to get in on the ground floor. If possible, get yourself named emperor. It may not seem like a big deal now, but you’ll thank me later.
•Storm windows save you hundreds in heating bills over the long run. It’s just good sense.
DIAMONDS AREN’T FOREVER
•The poor can use improvised weapons, and so can you. I know you haven’t lifted anything heavier than a fine Cuban cigar in decades, but there are plenty of low-impact ways for you to defend your homestead. A light push will suffice to send most medium-sized vats of molten ore tumbling down upon the filthy masses, and nothing says “lay off my Monets” like wildly swinging a gunny sack full of candelabras.
•Did you know cars are responsible for an average of 1.2 million deaths a year? Pretty low, I know. Have your chauffeur put the pedal to the metal and see if you can’t up that average. Bonus tip: a little Pledge and some elbow grease will do wonders for blood, teeth and any other miscellany that may get stuck to the grill.
•You have missiles. Use them. On poor people. Your property values will thank you.
•Jonathan Swift once penned a satirical article entitled "A Modest Proposal," in which he suggested that the rich devour the nation's poor children. I'm not going to comment on that, but I will say that in a time of war, who can say what's satire and what isn't? Not the poor babies you'll be eating, that's for damn sure.
•Do not rely on your friends. They will abandon you. A lifetime of privilege and shiftless bloodsucking has left you all mistrusting and equally untrustworthy. To make matters worse, you may be under siege for months, even years (the poor are notorious loiterers). Instead, seek companionship from your vast collection of original-run books, wax cylinder recordings of Edison, and many mistresses. If you still feel unsatisfied spiritually, all you need to make friends with Woodrow Wilson is a hundred thousand dollar bill and some rudimentary origami skills.
•If it seems like you’re about to be captured, try and act poor. Do poor people stuff, like eating chips from a can or saying “ain’t.” Sure it’s unpalatable, but it may just save your soon-to-be-stinking hide. For a little extra insurance, try putting your rich clothes on one of the servants who doesn’t speak English.
And to both sides, remember: though a class war may be fought with crowbars and helicopter-mounted miniguns, ultimately, it’s a war of ideas.
So aim for the head.
When not writing for Cracked, Michael incites rebellion as head writer and co-founder of Those Aren't Muskets!