Often I have considered attending graduate school. There are few degrees that I would be interested in, such as Library and Information Sciences, or Publishing. But what I would really, truly want to study for too many hours a day and several more years of my life probably isn’t offered anywhere.
Here are some things that I would go all-in for, along with an example thesis I might choose. I’d even do my homework. In fact, if these programs were offered somewhere, I’d probably go back to school for all four, then hide away in a tiny house in Amandoll’s yard using my degrees by muttering to myself and my cats and a cardboard cutout of Harry Solomon.
We humans have always been preoccupied with the end of our civilization. Sure, we have pocket-sized computers that can send signals across undersea cables to people on other continents virtually instantaneously, but on the other hand, a disturbing number of us use this to send pictures of our genitals to these people, often while driving. So it’s understandable that we tend to think our glory days of international space stations and individually wrapped cheese slices are numbered, and that we’re just one drunken diplomat away from going back to drawing penis gods in caves and killing each other with rocks and twigs.
Some even look forward to this day, convinced that they’re special and chosen and have what it takes to survive the aftermath of a global pandemic, when the fit 21-year-old they watch jog by three times a day from their sofa does not. You won’t be winded after yank-starting your lawnmower then, no sir! You’ll be the leader of a grizzled group of survivors, fighting daily for survival and eagerly scarfing down a bag of dry lentils as your first food in three days. Who needs a coffee shop on every corner and plentiful food? Bring on the economic riots!
This mindset has spawned a subculture called “Doomsday Preppers,” who spend much of their free time converting basements and digging backyard bunkers because they know that a major civilizational collapse is coming, and some bottled water and freeze-dried burritos are going to help them survive a good six weeks longer than the rest of us. There doesn’t seem to be a consensus among this community as to which doomsday is coming. Some wait for nuclear holocaust, others for economic collapse, yet more for ecological disaster, and many just sit among their pallets of creamed corn and rock back and forth while murmuring “Obama” over and over.
I know you want in on this action before you are stuck in the ruins of a major city fleeing from a group of sexual cannibals chasing you on scooters with spikes welded to them while they wear discarded football gear, so here’s what you need to know to build a fortified bunker to escape to, along with several attractive members of your preferred gender who will show up just like in those movies on Showtime.