According to my father-in-law, America is about to go through even worse financial times than we are now. He’s a financial planner and knows quite a bit about the economy and so forth. Essentially, the debt America accrues will be so great that our whole economic system will buckle to an unsalvageable level. I’ve connected the dots and see what’s going on. Armageddon is upon us. Conquest, War, Famine, and Death will soon be riding their horses through the sky. I must start planning for the future – however desolate it may be.
First, I need to get Lasik eye surgery. I can just imagine scurrying from my house of *corrugated metal to scavenge for my daily dose of acorns and pigeon bones like a common troll. While I’m out foraging, I notice all of the other Morlock-like sewer dwellers laughing and pointing at me. Much to my chagrin, I notice I put on my brown fingerless gloves and picked up the red polka doted bindle. That doesn't match!!! If I had better vision, this mistake wouldn’t happen. I will NEVER be the laughingstock to a bunch of Eloi eating, subterranean bastards!
Next, I really need to start running. I figure when the streets are flooded with blood, I’ll need to be in shape to run away from cannibal marauders looking to eat my nose and various other body parts. Or vice versa, I’ll need to be in shape to run down the weak, so I can feed their noses to my dogs and wife. I’ll scream from the mountain tops as menacing as possible, “Listen and listen well. All of your noses shall sustain my pugs!”
I’ll also need an arsenal of weapons. My only weapon right now is a baseball bat. It’s aluminum though so I can’t even hammer long nails through the end of it like a true cave troll. Maybe I can duct tape some nails to it. I could also carry around a bag of rocks – rocks for throwing.
I’ll need to work on my percussion skills. There will probably be a lot of sitting around campfires. If I can play music on a Folgers can perhaps, I will be the hit of the tribe and they won’t want me to do stuff. It’ll be similar to being a celebrity now; I’ll be so revered that people will want to do work for me. They’ll say, “No, no. Please stay seated. I’ll go down to the quarry, boil drinking water for you, and wash your loin cloth. We need you nice and rested for the coffee can concert tonight. Tap-Dink-Tap is my favorite song!” I will humbly accept.
These are just some of the things I will need to do in anticipation for the End Days. These things seem hard though. Maybe I won’t do them. Maybe I’ll just sit in a chair on my lawn with a cold beer and watch the skies burn with the fire of a thousand suns. It’ll be quite a show.
* Corrugated metal: The wavy kind of metal used to make sheds and storage units that contain scores of dead, rotting bodies that burn in the hot summer sun. If this doesn’t make sense, read this.