I was once told by a very wise man, that I “thought too much”. Sadly, he didn’t stick around this earth long enough for me to let him know that he was onto something.
I’d love to say that I’ve managed to get my over-active brain under control, but that’s not happening. Despite all the magic elixirs the distillers of America, Scotland and Mexico can muster, I still have a tough time putting my gray matter into sleep mode. As if I didn’t have enough things to worry about with the world, I’ve been bombarded with an onslaught of political propaganda for the past six months to drive almost anyone cuckoo. The “green” candidates alone have filled my mailbox with enough paper campaign flyers to reforest Utah.
Despite my raging-yet-ragged brain, or perhaps because of it, I’m not going to waste your time giving my opinion on which candidate deserves your precious vote. I’m not a political expert, nor am I particularly media savvy. I certainly don’t wish to use my massive blogging platform to give either candidate an edge just because of my fickle opinion.
Instead, I’m going to let you in on my plan. That’s right, I have a plan. In spite of my scheme being the fruit of a hyper-active cranium, it’s admittedly vague and riddled with flaws. That being said, it’s still something, and its existence might just be enough to get me through the next week or more.
As much as I’ve tried to ignore the political nonsense, it’s had its effect on me. I’ve become convinced that the end of the world as we know it is just around the corner – like say around lunchtime Wednesday, possibly as late as Happy Hour over at the Blue Monkey. The prospect of having to choose between Trump and Clinton may be just enough to make a sizable portion of the population say something along the lines of:
“Fuck it! We had a good coupla hundred years, amiright? Hell, even if you count the Great Depression and the time the NFL went on strike – this country rocked! All good things come to an end though, just like ‘Breaking Bad’ or ‘Gilligan’s Island’. Let’s just torch the place and maybe make some smores with the kids while we watch it burn.”
Having co-existed with my brain for over half a century, I knew better than to give credence to such outlandish fantasies without a little more evidence. Perhaps a sign of the coming end-of- days would solidify my fears. Then the Chicago Cubs won the World Series. I’m hardly a baseball fan, but I know a harbinger of doom when I see it. When you combine the win with Vladdy Putin being buddies with Steven Segal and Kim Jung Un having diplomatic meetings with Dennis Rodman, it’s time to act.
So I went out to Walmart and bought a water purification gizmo, a flint for starting fire like they do on “Survivor” and a few hundred feet of something called “para-cord” (It’ll come in handy if I need to lash something to something else, or hang some clothes to dry after washing them in a drainage ditch). I splurged on a multi-tool which looks even cooler than my original multi-tool but doesn’t have a corkscrew.
As residents of suburbia, it’s doubtful my wife and I will be able to escape to the wilderness where we could eke out a meager existence in a hut made of sticks and para-cord. There’s simply too much urban blight between us and the mountains. Yeah Philly, I’m talking about you (Please don’t tell Camden we’re here). More likely than not, we’ll just hunker down in my modest home and wait for looters. I don’t have any firearms but I do own a nearly complete set of kitchen knives and a whiffle ball bat, so the interlopers will have to be pretty close before I’ll be able to filet any of them.
Food is going to be an issue, as my wife is a vegetarian. She’ll probably be a little fussy about eating the dog when the time comes. We’ve got a few bags of dried beans laying in the back of the cabinet from the last time I thought the world was ending. If we were hungry enough we could resort to making quinoa – by that stage we wont have to worry about sharing it with the dog.
Having lived through Hurricane Sandy, I’ve got a ton of flashlights and three or four AA batteries. I’m thinking that rechargeable batteries and a solar charger would be good to have. There’s a good chance my wife will kill me for buying all of this crap before I ever get a chance to use it.
I’ll have to make sure I show her how to use the flint to start a fire before she sees the Amazon bill.
Reblogged this on 1pointperspective and commented:
It’s my turn over at The Nudge Wink Report again. This time I had enough fodder swirling around in my noggin to come up with a rambling mess of words. I can only pray that some of you find this junk amusing. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go fortify my bunker and stock up on scotch and band aids.
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Hear the doorbell, Darling? It’s the postman with an envelope for Mrs. 1Point. Inside? a ticket (just the one since you seem to be all set especially with the waffle bat…good choice by the way) to Oregon. We’ve been eating (and hugging) trees for…..ever. She’ll fit right in. You? Not so much.
P.S. Can Mrs. 1P borrow your barn boots? She’ll need them……
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Portland is the home to Leatherman – maker of wonderful multi-tools. Mrs. 1Point is ready to drop everything and head to Oregon at any moment. I’ll come too, but may end up closer to the Idaho border, where people take survival and eating dogs seriously.
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Darling, I am not surprised by this: Portland’s city commissioners are now proposing to build a wall with Art Tax revenue between Idaho and Oregon….to keep all dog-eating survivalists on their own side…
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To hell with squandering the art tax revenue – make the Idahoans pay for that wall!
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I’ve been telling everyone I meet, “All I want for Christmas is survival supplies.” And I think your author bio may have slightly exceeded 140 characters.
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Don’t skimp on multi-tool options – get the corkscrew and nosehair clippers. Does Leatherman have an outlet store in Portlandia?
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Ack, I posted as I thought it was my round! A thousand humble apologies!
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The more the merrier. I hope you don’t think you’re off the hook for your actually scheduled post – assuming the world isn’t a smoldering chunk of ash by then.
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That is totally my fault. Forgot to update the writing schedule. My bad. MY BAD!
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Does this mean I could’ve kept my survival plans a secret?! I’m packing my corkscrew.
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Forget the dog and the quinoa; you hit the nail on the head at the top of your post.
Making smores with the kids. They will taste delicious. By then family services will be – – – well – – – out of service.
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So I can double up on the chocolate and not have to worry about the pediatric diet police?
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No; you are the one who said “maybe make some smores with the kids” so I assumed you wanted to place the kids between two layers of chocolate. Did I (and Family Services) misunderstand your intentions?
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I somehow missed your last comment – now I get the Child Protective Services reference. For the record, using kids instead of graham crackers will result in a messy ‘smore indeed. Since kids today are so very coddled, it may be more suitable to substitute them for the marshmallows. LEGAL NOTICE: The aforementioned notion of cooking and eating children, while presumably singing that Kum-By-Ya song, is what passes for witty banter and should not be taken seriously – it’s a blog folks, not a painting by Francisco Goya!
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I see the Cubs victory as a harbinger of the impending apocalypse, but I also appreciate that America got one final giant party before the end comes. You can’t stay at the party forever.
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America did, but Cleveland came up short.
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You and the missus are welcome to join us out in the wilderness where we live. We’re pretty well stocked, but are somehow missing a multi-purpose tool and a flashlight. I’m sure all the canned food I bought for the Y2K apocalypse will still be good.
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Luckily my vegetarian wife will leave more Spam and Labradoodle casserole for the rest of us.
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I took a vow to limit tweeting and FB-ing until after the election. And to stop reading tweets and posts until after the election. Because the older I get, the less I’m enamoured with reading words written by people who are dumber than a bag of hammers. I’m all for free speech. Just not stupid speech.
I have extra batteries. I’ll pony express them to you after the election. *grin*
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I’m not tweeting or FB’ing- that way I won’t miss social media when the grid goes down.
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Nice pre-apocalyptic rant. I’d argue that you are a tad premature and should have waited for the actual election results, but you are right. When the fall comes, no doubt it will take the power grid with it and no one would have time to read anyway. Too busy wrapping the children in para-cord or something.
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I didn’t twig until just now about the Cubs. We had our own sporting sign of the Apocalypse when Leicester won the Premier League. It’s all adding up to it.
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Leicester winning the Premier League sounds apocalyptic. Bottoms up old chum, it’s time to kiss this world ta ta!
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I’m a little more prepared than you – I have an electric corded chainsaw, so if a post-election apocalypse comes, I’ll be able to cut down any hostile intruder coming within 50 feet of the nearest electical outlet (more if I attach another extension cord). This plan only works if the apocalypse does not affect the electrical service, because if we lose the electric service, I’ll forced to defend my home with a battery-powered leaf blower.
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Don’t underestimate the defensive value of a well-aimed blast of air, especially if you toss a handful of cinders into the mix.
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