Got me chuckling at the thought of a beet juice black market—imagine dramatic lighting, whispered negotiations, and the slow reveal of a mason jar filled with suspiciously red liquid. My apocalypse sitcom would be “Forage & Forget: Not Another Day in Paradise.” Picture a ragtag bunch of survivalists who can identify every wild edible but can’t remember where they hid their own stash of toilet paper. Opening credits would be a montage of folks trying to light a fire with increasingly ridiculous materials (spoiler: nothing works until someone uses an old disco record).
There’s a recurring bit where the theme song changes every episode, because nobody can agree on the lyrics—