Dear Wally 106 doomed

Dear Wally 106.  Doomed.

Dear Wally:

I just saw the scary movie ‘Contagion’ which is about the rapid and deadly spread of a make believe virus (the virulent Hollywood lovechild of H1N1 and the Asian Bird Flu).  I left the theatre freaked out and reminded that I have done NOTHING to prepare for the disaster, asteroid, pestilence, plague, killer bees, Canary Island tsunami or nuclear apocalypse we are promised .

Each week at the supermarket, I glibly pass the pyramidally- stacked cans  of peas and corn and think, “Naaah, I don’t feel like schlepping 200 cans home right now.  Next time.”

So what do you recommend I do?  What should go in my family’s survival kit?

Concerned, at least for a few days until I forget.

Dear Concerned:

If 200 cans of succotash is what we have to look forward to on the Doomsday menu , then perhaps the alternative IS better…?

 I saw Contagion too and it only served to harden my resolve to not EVER make out with Gweneth Paltrow, even if she comes a’ beggin.  For most people, it is just easier to ignore the emergency preparedness protocols and sally forth through life fat dumb and happy.  (Not saying you are fat dumb and happy, it’s just an expression.  Though you may be).  And hope that nothing wicked this way comes.

 Pre-child, I never would have considered hoarding supplies.  But now the game has changed and I have a mouth other than mine to feed.    I guess it’s time to preemptively hoard.   As added precaution,  I will teach my toddler to be a crafty street urchin and use those nimble little fingers to pick locks and filch others’ food stashes. 

Funny, I do sometimes look at my dogs and wonder if I, an avowed vegetarian,  might be forced to ever eat them if some Sh*t really went down. 

(German) Shepherd’s Pie?  

My dogs are really sweet but sometimes when they are hungry, I see them give ME a strange look!?  Hunger and panic bring out the worst in people, and dogs, especially if they are glowing from accidentally spilled isotopic Uranium 237.

I would have to worry about all this less if I just up and took care of business.  But I haven’t in any meaningful way.   It , like a few pesky tasks, falls under the category of, “I should just…”  This list also includes   ‘…clean the toilets more frequently.’ And ‘…visit more museums.’

 I have an emergency survival kit, which upon receiving your letter, I opened up and examined. Frankly, I was surprised I could even find it.   I will list the contents below, with a brief commentary/ justification for their presence in the pitifully undersized container.

1) Lime Perrier.  Refreshing post apocalyptic cocktail, anyone?  The empty 28 oz Perrier  glass bottle could be smashed against  my dumb head and used as a jagged weapon to fend off the wilding gangs in search of… item 2 below.

 (1) Fresh pack of AAA batteries.  Dated July 1989.  Nice. 

(1) Can of Shoprite sliced beets.  I don’t like these in the best of times let alone if I’m the last person alive and shivering  in a loin cloth through a nuclear winter.  (Note: Add can opener to survival list).

(1) Plastic fork and knife set , in sanitized wrapper, from McDonalds.   I’m lovin’ it…!!  Wanna keep things sanitized if there’s a global pandemic!   Doubt the bendable knife has enough serration to make it through canine fur.

(1) Old Spice deodorant.  Really?  Was I thinking that it might be good to smell like a rugged sea captain when the aliens come and perform the 7 billion exploratory anal probes on mankind?  (Note: I don’t wear deodorant normally.  Plus I’ll be hiding under a rock).

(1) Metrocard.  This still has $15 on it!  Psych!  I’m yanking it out of the survival kit and putting it in my wallet right now!  F (train) that!   Carpe Diem!  I totally forgot I had it!  Yahooo!

(1) Bic  lighter.   When all of mankind is wiped out, I will make my way to Madison Square Garden, set up my boombox, play ‘Freebird’ by Leonard Skynard in the seat of my choice, and bravely hold up my lighter while swaying.  And I will do this knowing I will not get arrested for having an open flame indoors. 

(1) Jar of lowfat Skippy peanut butter.  And assuming I survive, I will share this with the cockroaches as we dance victory jigs on the impact crater rim.  Lowfat?  Because  when the ozone layer is totally gone, and crops are crisping on the vines,   every day will be a beach day—Might as well look my very best in swim trunks!  Good bye mankind (and love handles!).

(1) $10 bill.  Fried with onions, this delicacy will feed a family of two  for approximately 1 day.  A $10 bill? Serious?   (note:  this will fit nicely in my wallet next to the Metro card)

(2) Fish hooks.   (note: no fishing line present.  Well done,  Einstein).

(1) Pair latex gloves.  Probably still a good idea to check my (own?) prostate every 5 years even if I'm the last one alive.  (Note: more fun than an Adam Sandler movie).

Clearly, I have learned nothing in all these years of warnings except that I’m doomed.  I think though, that when push comes to shove, I will be there with everyone else in the supermarket line pushing and shoving.  And it’ll be too bad, because I didn’t take my own advice, which is, fill your survival kit with stuff other than succotash and do it now, before those pleasant shoppers blithely humming along to the muzak version of the Bee Gees ‘Staying Alive’  start chanting the non muzak version.

Good luck!

--Wally

Ps- ‘Dog breath’  is an insult for a reason…Remember, last resort!!  Woof.

Got a question for our advice columnist or just want to invite him over for something other than succotash?  Email him at cwn4@aol.com