"I've given up being socially acceptable."
"Yellowstone Super-Volcano. Total Financial Collapse. Over Population. Government Takeover. Worldwide Pandemic. Skynet."
Yep, I stumbled upon “Doomsday Preppers” on NatGeo. If you are unfamiliar with this intimate glimpse into the lives of the proud and paranoid Americans who will be our post-apocalyptic overlords, let me try and give a brief overview. Quick and dirty premise: the world is going to collapse, these people are going to survive and be just fine as their preparations for this collapse will allow them to survive and thrive. It's almost as if these people were meant to live in a time and place where no one else had to interact with them...on any level. My apologies, I shouldn't call them "these people", they refer to themselves as "preppers". As near as I can tell, preppers fall into two categories. Individuals who believe that an armory larger than the local National Guard base and faith in God Almighty will save them, and individuals who believe that their solar and wind power-run organic farm will be all they need to live out their days in patchouli-scented peace. There's a third category: individuals diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia recently released from the secure psych ward of their local hospital...I'm fairly certain this category encompasses the two previously mentioned categories.
After each prepper explains the catastrophe they think will end the world, they explain how they have, and are continuing to prepare for it, how they're not crazy, and how their family (really, truly, wholeheartedly) agrees with their chosen lifestyle. Once you get to see their bunker, their bullets, and the car running on nothing but bacon grease and positive vibes, the "experts" give them a score (how they became experts is unclear).
Still reading? Good. You score high on patience. This will be needed when you have to wait for 1,000 years for radiation levels to be safe following a nuclear reactor meltdown.
All this talk of killer monkey hordes learning to talk and taking over the world got me thinking, what have I done to get ready for the apocalypse? It didn't take much time to ponder...I have a bottle of good Scotch and that's about the extent of it. I can most likely trade this for food, or be drunk for the inevitable knock on my door from the T-1000's. Do T-1000's knock?
Resigned to my fate, I sat down at my desk and started to draw up my Apocalypse Health Care Directive (I'll put one together for you for a modest $49.99).
"If (when) the birds of Earth go crazy and attack and I am left pecked and clawed but still breathing, smash my head with a brick. Do not waste your ammunition, as you will need it."...and so it continued well into the night. The events described in the show may happen, but I believe that getting invaded by aliens, attacked by zombies, or machines evolving and using us as batteries is more likely, so I had a lot of writing to do. Personally? The sheer number of documentaries about zombie apocalypses has made me certain this will happen in my lifetime, so the zombie section was easy, if not extensive.
"If bitten, end me. Do not under any circumstances keep me locked up in a barn with other zombies while you wait for a nonexistent cure. Also, if, during the zombie apocalypse, my wife and kid turn out to be evil, soul-sucking trolls, please just let my best friend kill me."It continued for pages and pages...like I said, extensive.
At some point, I fell asleep at my desk and began to dream about trying to save my Packers stock from a horde of Viking fan undead. It was a vivid dream even if it is often difficult to tell a zombie Viking fan from a living, breathing one. Waking up, I glanced at my Packers share hanging on the wall and had an epiphany. I may not have prepped in the crazy, tin foil hat kind of way, but I was the proud owner of the perfect post-apocolyptic domicile. As an owner of Packers, I hereby stake my claim on Lambeau Field as my doomsday bunker.
"Franklin, you have no backup food supplies, you lack adequate access to fresh, uncontaminated water, your security measures consist of a six-iron, a frying pan, and a three foot length of 2x4, you currently reside in the middle of Minneapolis, surrounded by Viking fans who will likely not provide support during a catastrophe...
...however...
...you were given ownership of the Green Bay Packers as a gift, from someone who obviously is watching out for your well-being. If, during a zombie apocalypse, you hole up in Lambeau Field, you have an excellent chance of survival. Lambeau Field has an enormous supply of food, and if your stay there is indefinite, you will be able to grow crops and raise animals on the field. The number of cold and hot tubs, water bottles, and gatorade jugs means you will have plenty of storage for your water supplies. The security at Lambeau Field is impeccable. Franklin, you are not a zombie whose sole focus is eating brains, and you were unable to breach Lambeau's walls. You will have clear sight lines due to the height of the stadium and the open parking lots surrounding the stadium. A high-powered rifle will allow you to pick off the undead as needed. If you need to venture from the stadium, there is plenty of armor in the form of pads and helmets that will help protect you. I would recommend enlisting the support of Tom Crabtree, as he has a vote of confidence from those close to him in the event of a zombie apocalypse. Also, his Modern Warfare experience and extensive viewing of "The Walking Dead" should increase your chances of survival. If you are able to learn the intricacies of solar and wind energy, you should be able to generate enough electricity to power the HD video screen to watch movies, play video games, and watch Ted Thompson's DII scouting films to gain some distraction from the monotony of the end of the world.
All in all, you will most likely survive the zombie apocalypse in Lambeau Field, however, several others may claim the stadium as their survival bunker. We recommend that you quietly start auditioning these people to determine which will be most beneficial to you while living in Zombieland. This one has promise, but you must do the research on your own."
Those weren't direct quotes from the producers, but I'm sure they wouldn't be far off. I know some of you may also claim ownership, but this post serves as my post-apocalyptic claim. Rest assured, if you send in your proposal as to why you would make an exceptional bunker mate, I will review them all and respond in a timely fashion. Extra consideration will be given to those who can make cheese or beer. Bears or Vikings fans need not apply.
Oh, one more thing, you have to like R.E.M.
I had a dream kinda like that once. The undead Vikings fans weren't actually zombies, though. They were just Norwegian Minnesotans. You're right--it's nearly impossible to tell the difference. All you have to do to fight them off is wear a necklace with garlic or hot peppers on it. Any type of spice that brings flavor to food will confuse them to the core.
ReplyDeleteYou could certainly use a jar of jerk chicken sauce as a weapon and force one of them to drive you to Lambeau while you held it to his face.
Um, might we see a new post at some point?
ReplyDeleteHello? McFly! Anybody home?