Monday, March 16, 2009
Watchmen, in theaters now ... and your local bookstore ...
Fairly soon, no doubt, nuclear warheads will rain upon American cities, rats will once again carry untreatable disease and the more paranoid among us will retreat into our concrete bunkers to wait for the fallout to pass.
In an effort to avoid a jarring transition between my current state of mindless consumption and the inevitable do-without lifestyle my underground trappings will require, I've developed a guide to living as if the Apocalypse has already happened. That way, when I do have to strip my daily activities to the bare minimum, it will require the same scant effort I put into everything else.
1.) Eat only canned goods
I brought a can of Hormel's canned chili to work for lunch today. It's not too bad, almost as spicy as advertised, and with just a minimal amount of gristle and sand. In fact, I appreciate the added texture. As long as I can still use a microwave in the future, my diet probably won't change drastically, although I will miss milk.
2.) Stockpile booze and cigarettes
Driving to the local liquor store will not be an option when the violent force of a hydrogen bomb renders neighbors nothing but shadows and Oldsmobiles to only dust. The most bang-for-the-buck, storage wise, is hard liquor, but a few hundred cases of PBR (for variety's sake) wouldn't hurt.
3.) Hoard books, magazines, DVDs and CDs
Entertainment, self-education and media will be the best time-filler. Once again, storage space is key, and books probably kill the most time per-square-inch, but DVDs can be watched over and over again, and I've not the type to regularly re-read the same books. A laptop and Kindle would take care of all these needs, but in the event of nuclear annihilation, it might be nice to actually hold the paper, art, liner notes, etc.
4. Grow and strengthen fingernails to dramatic effect
This will come in handy for building my legacy. When archaeologists (or my parents) find my remains in the bottom of a poorly constructed bomb shelter, they will also find a tally mark for each day of solitude scratched into the concrete walls. Never mind my tools and sharp aluminum from empty beer cans that could be used, they will know I was a man obsessed, a man of epic will who kept time with rat-like tenacity. This could prove difficult (I chew the fuck out of my fingernails) but I haven't trimmed my toenails in weeks!
5. When at home, wear pajamas and never leave the house
No further explanation needed.
Upon further review, I already live as if a nuclear holocaust has devastated everything outside my front door. No lifestyle changes needed, as long as I can dig a tunnel to The Dormitory.
Have fun transitioning to your new cramped quarters, you do-gooder health freaks — if you weren't already outside jogging when it all came to an end.