Gather ’round, everyone. Sure, a series of nuclear strikes has rendered the world outside this bunker a lifeless, irradiated wasteland, but I want to talk to you about something even more dangerous: political correctness.

While you're all obsessing over how much potable water we have left, or whether we're developing scurvy, you're ignoring the fact that free speech is under attack!

On college campuses across the country, students have been demanding "safe spaces." And I don't mean lead-lined bunkers to protect them from deadly radioactive fallout, which actually would have been pretty handy. I mean emotional safe spaces, so they don't get their precious little feelings hurt by challenging ideas. Sorry, kiddos, but the real world is a tough place—a lesson you would have learned, if you weren't all dead!

Meanwhile, comedians (if there are any left) can no longer make whatever jokes they want because the members of liberal media (if there are any left) are eager to pounce on any little misstep. People are so humorless these days! Look at Tony. Always boo-hooing about how his wife and kids didn't make it into the bunker fast enough. You can't tell me hearing a broad impression of a funny-sounding "ethnic type" wouldn't cheer him up.

Hey, why are you all trying to fix the air filter while I'm talking to you? This is important!

Look, I don't know the preferred term these days for the homosexuals, but if I get it wrong somehow I'm the jerk? Linda, you are quite possibly the last homosexuette left on the planet—please tell me, what do you people want to be called? Never mind, I'm not actually interested in your answer, because it'll probably just change in a month, and we've only got three weeks of food left.

Speaking of food, whenever I rank the seven of us by fatness, I suppose that's "body shaming”? Give me a break! Once the protein paste is kicked, we're going to have to eat someone, and Micah looks like a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound glazed ham with a goatee. I'm not going to cannibalize some thin and flavorless guy, like Jeff, just to avoid offending the delicate sensibilities of the bicoastal, NPR-listening, latte-sipping thought police! (The fact that NPR and both coasts and all lattes were incinerated by nuclear hellfire isn't relevant. You know what I mean!)

And when I tell Mandy she should smile more while she's cleaning out the bunker's septic tank, that's not because I'm sexist. It's because I'm old-fashioned. If you ask me, when a man sees a woman covered in raw sewage, and she's one of three left, and Linda's off the market, he shouldn't be afraid to compliment her on her appearance. Because, as the last survivors of the human race, we have a duty to repopulate the Earth. And, when we do, I'm not giving every kid a medal for "participation." Our hypothetical future children need to know there are winners and losers!

Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself. We'll be lucky to make it another two months. But, if we do, I'm warning you: I am not going to say "Happy holidays" around the bunker. I'm saying "Merry Christmas," and if you don't like it you can call the A.C.L.U., once you repair that two-way radio you all seem to think is so important. I, for one, believe it's time we put the "God" back in "God has forsaken us."