Disaster Preparation

Good morning.  I’ve assembled the essential disaster preparation
kit just for you all in these troubled times.

Let’s say you’re walking down the lane to your favorite pub
— it’s 11am and time for
you to partake of the vibrant amber of life.
But then something happens!  An
explosion in the distance — terrorism!
Men with beards, knives clutched in their broken teeth, running towards
you.  Are they coming from McCutcheons,
which is always closed on Tuesday’s?
Maybe they missed their train?
One thing is for sure, these are angry men.  And there you are, on the lane, unfinished
screenplay beneath your arm, wearing a pair of jeans and your pajama tops.

They stop to ask directions, the evil black smoke from the
village billowing in the background.
They want to know where the local US Consulate office is and you say
it’s three hours south, if they catch the 13:20.  But the 13:20 is a slow, rough ride so best
to wait until tomorrow and catch the 9:40.

They seem disappointed and ask if your accent is
American.  After several moments of
internal consultation, you decide to reply that it’s not an American accent
but, instead, would be classified as “Upper Southern.”  Some people say Tennessee,
but you’d actually suggest it to be lower Virginia.

The men scream out an oath to the brown people’s god and
continue running down the lane.  You now
realize that you’ve just had a run in with Lady Cutlington-Smythe’s gardeners.  What do you do?

Being ready for disaster seems like a difficult thing for
all of us.  We’re all very busy with our
families and our jobs and our private lives.
Thinking ahead can pose a large problem — whether it be planning your
retirement, getting your tires rotated or convincing the girl next door to haul
your ashes.

Being ready for a disaster, however, is simpler than it
sounds.  You  can purchase most survival items the next
time you go shopping — water, canned goods, Keebler Double Fudge Elves and a
coordinated selection of alcohol are some survival basics.  We all know you can use bottlecaps or young
women as currency in a post apocalyptic wasteland, if it ever comes to that.  Surround yourself with these items, just in
case.  Young women are easy to keep.  They don’t eat much as long as you constantly
comment on their hips and they’re quite handy to have around for when you tear
down the curtains in a drunken rage or rip your jeans on a fencepost.

In our scenario, we present you with a very different
problem.  You’re underdressed and closer
to the pub than to your house.  An
explosion has rocked your sleepy community and mad gardeners are on the
move.  What should you do?  You should continue to the pub,
where you
share your story with the usual afternoon crowd — Arthur Kettlebottom,
Old Man
Stacy, Marcus de Bouvier and Dirty Phil Reed.
None will believe you with the exception of Old Man Stacy who, as a
young man at Ypres 2 saw this same sort of
thing.  After his entire regiment had
been wiped out — most of them drowning in the mud — Stacy had sought
shelter
in a rain and blood-filled shellhole.  He
had been there with a Sergeant Major who had lost both legs and, in
shock,
drifted silently below the water line.
That mutilated man’s last words were, “Quickly boys, look
sharp…look sharp…”

Then came the Germans.
They’d had it just as bad — a ragged bunch of boys pouring through the
mud and stink, pounding the dead into the earth with their tattered boots.  Haunted eyes turned to the shellhole and
beheld Stacy in what the old man thought were his last moments, then the Hun
bastard was blown to pieces by his own artillery.  Covered in gore —

It’s here where Dirty Phil Reed stops Old Man Stacy’s
droning monologue and asks what this has to do with terrorists blowing up the
village.  The old man, now in tears,
replies that it has nothing to do with the current situation.  He retreats to his lonely corner with two
pints of the local and, his hands shaking, proceeds to sob miserably.

It’s often believed that there’s safety in numbers.  In the case of our scenario, this is
correct.  At Ypres,
it wasn’t correct.  The terrorists from
our scenario have a clear destination in mind, and this frees you up to drink
merrily.  However, it is advisable that you
enjoy your drink outside the building and away from the main entrance.  A picnic table located out back is the best
option, preferably overlooking the volunteer-maintained gardens of the ruined
Marmas castle.

(en Espanol)

El Gringo engreido es nuestro enemigo. Tenemos que
revelarnos contra la garra opresora que nos estrangula. El sucio capitalista
debe ser aplastado bajo la bota de la justicia. A falta de una buena
revolucion, al menos hagamos que esos paranoicos turistas yanquis viajen de
nuevo. Por amor de Dios! un pequeño incidente y todos se esconden debajo de la
cama.