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.
Conceptual diagram illustrating the brain of the author at this moment in time. Keep your fashion comments to yourself. Illustration by the author and his handy cell phone.
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.
I just know I’m going to regret the lack of a corkscrew, but at least I’ll have no shortage of options for keeping my nose hairs well groomed during the apocalypse. Also the punch outs on the handle really cut down on the size – this puppy weighs in at a mere 1 lb. 7 ounces. For tactical reasons, I will not reveal if this is or is not the actual multi-tool I purchased. (Illustration of Gerber Multi-tool from midwayusa dot com)
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.
nudge. wink. report. 