During the lead-up to the final days, they all liked to mock Brooklyn for being uniquely unequipped to deal with it. Coastal elites, with their books and their Ivy-league educations, packed into coöps and apartment buildings like a bunch of rats. What they forgot: we’d been pickling shit for years.

So maybe their Aunt Maudes were canning geniuses, back in the day. Did Aunt Maude put ginger in her beets? I don’t fucking think so. Is Aunt Maude even still alive? I hope, for her sake, that she is, but I have my doubts.

It turns out that the complex apparatii of single origin deconstructed drip coffee, with a couple chip-ins from Open Lab biologists, can be rapidly repurposed into water distillation ones. So what that “organic Sumatran lattes” have become “de-phthalated Schuykill spring waters”. You can take our caffeine, but you can’t take our penchant for overly descriptive smug menus. We still have clean water, at least. Maybe you could repurpose some of those meth labs?

Maybe avocado toast is a thing of the past, after you spitefully killed the Mexican economy (though, I mean, now that open internet doesn’t exist anymore, there’s no Instagram to post clever variations on avotoast, so what’s the point of that shit anyway?) but we started rooftop and vertical gardens ages ago. Hell, why do you think crucifers got so cool, towards the end? We were aligning the only shitty vegetables that might grow during a nuclear apocalypse with the elite. Sorry if you didn’t plant kale because Obama ate it?

Yeah, so Brooklyn -for all your shitposting-

is probably going to be fine. We care about each other, we can pickle any vegetable you throw at us, and we all hate rats. Especially the rats that hope we’re all gonna die.