Apocolypse now

For all the haters who doubt the world is ending, you are obviously not paying attention. 

Look at the weather. Look at the politics.Look at the popularity of “Fifty Shades of Grey” and its abhorrent misrepresentation of the BDSM community.

Wake up, America. Come Dec. 12, some shit is definitely going down, and it’s about time we make real preparations.

Like any prudent American who has rightly acknowledged Armageddon’s approach, I have the basics all set. I distributed ham radios to all of my friends with extra batteries, reserved a place in a doomsday shelter, exchanged all of my currency for gold, stockpiled months of canned and dry foods, collected disparate strands of rope, pieces of wood, sharp rocks and, of course, lots and lots of guns.

Living through the apocalypse, however, is not the same as surviving in a post-apocalyptic society. It takes more marketable skills than an ability to write sassy opinion columns.

This aspect of doomsday is most worrying for me.

I am a Japanese and political science major. I’m not going to be in Japan when the shit hits the fan, so my ability to communicate in that language is pretty useless.

Knowledge of international relations will be completely irrelevant in the immediate aftermath.

After all, then there will be no more nations and instead only anarchy, where physical strength reigns supreme and he or she with the most supplies survives.I took one semester of Judo and I was really bad at it.

If I die during the apocalypse in a deluge of hellfire and plagues, at least it will be pretty quick. I’ll have lots of company, but rejection by whatever small post-apocalyptic society that gives itself a dumb name and allows polygamy for some reason that springs up nearby wherever I end up would be pretty embarrassing.

“I couldn’t even make the dumb-named polygamists like me?” is what I’ll be thinking as I starve to death, cold and alone.

How do you light a fire without a match?

Is there really more than just one kind of knot?

Is it OK to eat those orange-spotted mushrooms?

The Girl Scouts did not prepare me for this. 

I guess I didn’t watch enough of that Bear Grylls guy. Or the other guy. Which one drinks his pee all the time? One of them was fake, right? These are the questions that haunt me.

With only a month left before the 2012 apocalypse, I am running out of time to actually develop these skills, so I’ve been forced to come up with another tactic: befriend those who already have them.

So, to all of those wilderness and survival experts out there:

Hi, my name is Casey Farrington. I am super great to hang out with and not a leech at all. I would make a good companion in a post-apocalyptic society because look at this smile.

Besides, did you read the part about all the supplies I have?

Awaiting your replies. Spend Armageddon with me.


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