The people you share the planet with are sheep. Non-thinking, quick-to-panic, I-did-it-because-they-did-it, wool-less sheep. This weekend the whole herd descended on the unsuspecting super-market, like a swarm of locusts attacking a field of corn. There’s no logic to what they bought. They shopped like the city was leveled, as if the mother of all earthquakes shook the earth and they drooled and they had the red eyes of rabid wolves, ironic since sheep are ascared of wolves.
It appears that a large contingent among was just waiting for the chance to go post-nuclear.
