My Emergency Plan

Do you have an emergency plan? You don’t? That’s pretty stupid. Take a minute and watch cable news. Cable news tells it like it is: you’re in immediate danger.

Natural and man-made disasters can strike at any time, just ask God. LOL. That’s a little emergency plan humor. God is too busy visiting misery upon his children to answer you.

Sometimes you get warned before a disaster. A text might alert you to a flash flood, or the sun might suddenly start to bleed, a sure sign the end of the world is nigh. But sometimes disasters don’t announce themselves. One day you’re staring out your window watching the world go by, then, suddenly, you’re staring out your window watching a radioactive nuclear blast wave rolling towards you.

A little advance planning can save your life, and with just a little bit more advance planning, you can also save your family, and possibly one extra person, plus a pet.

If you want to know how to live, and not die, screaming, your flesh bubbling off your skeleton, then just follow MY emergency disaster plan.

First, can you name the three primary kinds of emergencies? You can’t? Friend, you just visited death upon everyone you loved. What did I just write? A little advance planning can save your life. There’s no excuse for not knowing the three kinds of emergency.

There are three kinds of emergency. You might know them by their colors: red, really red, and jugular spurt. For instance, a first responder might shout into his or her walkie-talkie “Holy fucking shit, we got a fucking emergency here! The second kind! The really red kind!” Now everyone will know if they have to walk fast, or to kind of jog-walk.

The first kind of emergency is kind the kind you laugh at, like fire. The second kind of emergency is the kind you make a jerking off motion towards because you don’t live in L.A. and don’t care about earthquakes. The third, and final, emergency that you should be made aware of is the one where you spit out your champagne because it’s raining snakes.

Now that you’re familiar with the KINDS of emergency, let’s move on to HOW to respond to these emergencies. Step number one is — LOOK OUT IT’S A TERRORIST WITH EBOLA!

There isn’t a terrorist with Ebola. There could be. I just made a point.

The first step to to planning for an emergency is to have an actual plan.

Noah was the first Doomsday Prepper. He was a maniac, but, boy, he was a good planner. You think you can build an ark in a week? A month? You do? You try it, then. Noah said God talked to him, but that’s just what lunatics say because they know if they said “my big toe talks to me” people would lock them up!

Be like Noah. Build your ark now. Or buy your ark and make low monthly payments. For instance, my ark is a 2010 Toyota Corolla.

Start storing food. I have six months worth of Dinty Moore Beef Stew. I have so many cans of Dinty Moore Beef Stew, I made a chair out of cans of Dinty Moore Beef Stew. My bathroom is filled, top to bottom, with Dinty Moore Beef Stew. I use the restroom at Starbucks to take hobo baths.

I also recommend keeping a few candles around. What’s a candle? They’re ancient lightbulbs from the past. But did you know that candles are also edible? I call them “emergency carrots.”

Buy ammunition. In the post-apocalypse, shotgun shells will be currency. For instance, you might want to buy some sugar or a can opener. That will cost you three shotgun shells for the sugar, probably twelve for the can opener. I forgot to pack a can opener! It will get confusing when buying one shotgun shell costs three shotgun shells.

Oh, right, if you have ammunition, you might as well have a gun. Guns kill people. You know that saying “guns don’t kill people, people kill people?” That’s ridiculous. If guns don’t kill people then you have a broken gun. Get that gun fixed. If you don’t like guns because you’re a big sissy, then make a weapon.

You can turn any ol’ thing into a weapon, if you’re crazy enough. A whisk, a candle, a feather duster. Just be fucking insane. A shoe thrown with deadly accuracy isn’t just a shoe, it’s a throwing shoe. Just in case, I keep a pitchfork around. Like one of those pitchforks from the painting of that old couple, the farmer and his prostitute. Or maybe it was the reverse? She’s the farmer? Not sure. But if you see me with a pitchfork, run the other way, because I’m going to stab everyone I see, just to be safe.

My emergency plan consists of a jar of scorpions. No one ever sees that coming.

Pack a “go bag.” A “go bag” is a bag of important survival gear that you can grab quickly during an emergency. In my “bug out bag” are 12 cans of Dinty Moore Beef Stew, and some oily rags.

What should go in your “go bag?” I don’t care. Just don’t come asking me for a can of Dinty Moore Beef Stew.

But this is just some of my emergency plan. I am prepared for every contingency, like what if I forget my emergency plan? I wrote it all down on a cocktail napkin. What I’m saying is, though, I hope for the worst, and prepare for whatever is worst than the worst.

I am confident in my emergency plan. Once the you know what hits the what do you call that thing, then I am ready to survive. But first, a coffee mug of bourbon. Okay, one more coffee mug of bourbon. Now I’m ready. Ha, ha, ha my fly is down.

My emergency plan is a carefully constructed series of directives that I intend to execute flawlessly.

In the event of an emergency, panic. Bang trash can lids together and bray like a donkey. Strip naked and smear yourself with your own feces. This will creep out the mutants bred in our government’s secret laboratories.

In the event of an emergency, loot. Many survival experts say that you need food, shelter, and a 42-inch flat screen TV to survive.

You’ll need time to cry. I’m very sensitive. Sobbing uncontrollably is part of my emergency plan. So is begging, and shrieking, and more uncontrollable sobbing.

But then I kick into survivor mode. Just following the plan! Then I get serious. Because I’m going to endure. The melancholy ruins of our species will be populated solely by yours truly. I will live like a man-sized roach.

In the event of an emergency, always have an escape plan. Kicking down doors is pretty cool, but if you’re like me, your legs are mostly made out of what Gummi Bears are made out of.

If you live on the second floor or above, do NOT jump out of the window.

Just get out of wherever you are. We’ll talk in a bit about where to go, but for now, push old women and children over in a desperate scramble to save your skin. Occasionally look behind you and shout “COME ON” to your family.

Have a rendezvous point where you can meet up with friends. Make sure to only invite your fat friends, because chances are good you’ll be eating them later.

Right now I’d like to ask: do you have a fully-stocked, remotely-located, easily defensible cabin in the woods? Where is it located? Asking for a friend. Can you send me directions, out of curiosity?

It is important to train. How do you think bears get so good at riding unicycles. I train everyday. I’m up at 9AM, back in bed by 9:15AM, then back up again around 1PM. Then I check Instagram in bed. Training starts with a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal. That’s incorrect, I apologize. Training starts with two bowls of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

I strip naked and practice Krav Maga. Then I jump, still naked, into my comfy bed and scream into a pillow. Training continues around 3 p.m., when I wake up from the first of many combat naps.

It is important to zig when others zag, to zag when other zog, and to zak when others zorn. For example: I recommend employing camouflage. Quick! Danger! Act like a tree!

You’d be surprised how gangs of satanic murder children will just run by you because you’re standing there with your fingers spread, making tree noises.

Another brilliant tactic of mine is called The Human Statue. If I’m being chased I might decide to just FREEZE IN PLACE. Maybe I’ll be frozen, mid-wave, or pointing heroically into the distance. Either way, the nuns with baseball bats will probably stop and think “do statues blink?”

There is a very good chance they’ll decide that I’m a living statue, and, therefore, terrifying. In the event of an emergency, drop, stop, and roll under a car. Take a combat nap. You’ve trained for that! Everything looks brighter after a nice nap, even nuclear winter.

When it comes to infectious diseases I follow the old saying “fight vomit with vomit.” If that doesn’t work, try a Purell enema.

Learn basic first aide. I learned basic first aide from the movies. If you’ve got a wound that’s bleeding, and you’re fantastically beautiful, I’ll slowly take off my shirt and shred it. I’ll bind your wounds, and I won’t even care as your fingers lightly glide over my six-pack abs.

But having an emergency plan is not enough to save you and your family, if you haven’t forgotten them. It is important to also have an emergency plan for your emergency plan. What if your emergency plan fails?

I should also mention how your very survival in an unlivable, post-apocalyptic wasteland might depend on having an emergency plan for your emergency plan’s emergency plan.


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