American-Dad Well civilization, it’s been a good run, but it appears the end is upon us. Cranks from Cambodia to Caroline county have logically and correctly concluded that the upcoming September blood moon and eclipse tetrad will herald an asteroid strike, the Rapture, and the End of Days.

I know what you’re thinking. The idea of the Rapture is so fucking moronic that no one in their right mind could possibly believe in it. Well think again.

An estimated 100 million Americans think true believers will be whisked up to heaven during the end times, and according to a Pew survey, a staggering 60% of Evangelical leaders also think the doctrine is real.

As a lunatic myself, I also can’t wait for the Rapture. My wife is a saint, and my kids are still too young to have committed any really bad sins, so it is with a heavy heart but a fair degree of excitement that I expect to watch them ascend into heaven.

I’m not a particularly bad man, and the worst thing I did this year was make a homeless guy sit and shake for five bucks. I also watched two retards fight over a Frisbee and laughed so hard I literally, not metaphorically, shit my pants. But Christianity is just such a gay little religion; I have a hard time fully accepting it and would rather be left behind than embrace it in my heart.

On the plus side, I feel like my entire life has been in preparation for a post-apocalyptic hell-hole. A place so awesome that were it not for a 7-year limit, all of humanity would be extinguished from the globe.

And while the other psychopaths are busy forming rival gangs to terrorize survivors, I really only have one goal. Looting the entire liquor store by my house and getting my haul back to my crazy uncle’s bunker before a band of marauders tries to turn my b-hole inside out.