Global warming is fantastic. Hell, the leader of our free little world refuses to believe that it exists, so we might as well make the most of it. Can’t let the people get high. Better regulate that s**t, but crank up the heat, baby. Atmosphere who? It won’t be so bad. I’ve always wanted to live on the beach. I looked at a map the other day (it was my first time) and the expected ocean wouldn’t hit Nebraska, so I guess our kids will be safe.

There’s a show on TLC called “Extreme Couponing,” and all those ladies know what’s up. I’ve been taking notes. The one they hail as the “original coupon queen” looks like Betty White, circa 1990, and has mail baskets full of coupons. She can’t even lift them herself. But she’s SET. She’s the QUEEN. All those dollar-off Totino’s Pizza Rolls and Crest White Strips.

She has a coupon machine up there in New York that sorts them for her; just dumps them in the baskets and keeps cutting while it does all the work. A hipster could probably fashion all those papers into mattresses or vintage consumerism-style handbags and sell them at Urban Outfitters for 50 bucks a pop.

Those coupons won’t last forever. But maybe if she hits up a dollar store or two and frequent flyer’s the Target nearest to her she can buy a house for all that shit and guarantee her kids’ kids’ kids some United States of Atlantis street cred.

They could sell everything and make a boat-load of cash. Literally. Sail it over to good ol’ Florida and fish for Miller High Life and soggy clothing from the Gap.

Maybe we’ll end up evolving into some form of Anglerfish with glowing genitalia-esque rods hanging between our eyes and jaws that can double the width of our mouths in size. Think of the size of those Seatropolis McChickens, man. Trump’s kids’ kids’ kids won’t have to worry about their inherited Tamarin hands if they don’t have hands.

Maybe his offspring will evolve into some special form of Tamarin monkey with weird orange hair and they’ll shit down on us as they swing from whatever trees are left. Pluck a snack out of the water while we swim in schools and think way, way back, with our intelligent fish-human minds, to the pizza rolls and ramen noodles and the way toilet paper felt before the flood. Before the rebirth of the nations. There won’t be any Dollar Generals or Targets left, though.

I guess the couponers will be screwed. So, grab a beer, sit outside in the oddly warm February weather and get clipping while you can.