Let’s face it–with a thin-skinned man-child residing in the Oval Office, nuclear war seems more like a possibility now than ever before in our nation’s history.
I don’t mean to sound macabre, or sensational, but any day now, our goofy man-child president might place his stubby little fingers over the infamous red button. And then what?
Devastation. Complete and utter devastation.
It’ll be a genuine horror show. Like that scene in “Terminator 2: Judgement Day,” in which Sara Connors’ face melts off at that kindergarten. But much worse because, well, it’s real. Even a mind as brilliant and artistically driven as James Cameron’s can’t capture the genuine horror and terror of a real nuclear holocaust.
Knowing this, I have decide to create a bucket list, of sorts, of seven things I would like to do before the inevitable nuclear holocaust happens.
Take Up Smoking
I totally understand: Smoking’s bad for you. I know all the about studies. I know all about the cancer and emphysema warnings. The cat urine contained therein. The stinky clothes. The red, watery eyes.
Believe me, I get it.
But what’s that going to matter if the world’s going to end, anyway? Light ‘em if you got ‘em, I say.
Convert to Scientology
Let’s face it–Scientology is a sham. It’s a very creepy cult. Leah Remini’s “Scientology & The Aftermath” documentary on A&E truly exposes the evilness and vileness of that mind-controlling organization, founded by L. Ron Hubbard in December, 1953.
However, I’ve always been a huge John Travolta and Tom Cruise fan. And I’ve always wanted to ask Mr Cruise what it was like working with Paul Newman on the “The Color of Money” set.
True, there will be many uncomfortable sessions of auditing. But the church won’t be able to blackmail me about my fondness for lactating women and affinity for Bon Jovi’s Slippery When Wet Album because, well, not long after the conversion we’ll all be bone-dust.
Sexually Harass My Co-Worker
I know what you’re thinking–this one is terrible. And, in ordinary circumstances, I would agree with you. This type of behavior in the workplace is not acceptable. However, as with most other things, in this instance there are extenuating circumstances, too.
If a tree falls in the woods and no one is there does it even happen? And if I “accidentally” pinch Alison’s butt a few weeks before doomsday, what’s it matter anyhow?
Take Up Whittling
As someone who was born in Los Angeles County, I am ashamed to say I don’t understand now, nor I have ever understood, the subtle nuances of small-town living. For example, I have never milked a cow, rode a tractor, or artificially inseminated a horse, nor have I understood the appeal of Toby Keith’s music.
Whittling away on a porch somewhere in the countryside, with a golden retriever at my feet and sipping a Heineken, would be a beautiful place to be, once the nukes finally hit.
'Borrowing’ From A Loanshark
I have always steered clear of the underworld, and shylocks are certainly no exception. However, considering our current political climate, I have no qualms whatsoever with borrowing twenty thousand clams from Jerry “The Stomper” McKenzie.
Granted, I’m no fan of stealing. And I don’t advocate it. But if the world’s going to end anyway, does not paying the money back really constitute stealing?
The answer is, clearly, a deep resounding, NOPE.
Enlisting In The Military
Truth be told, I always wanted to work for Uncle Sam, and be all I could be. However, there was always one thing holding me back.
Fear. Genuine, unbridled fear.
However, knowing the Earth is going to be decimated, obliterated, and that everyone and everything will be vanquished, forever, I see no risk with enlisting in the military.
After all, we’re all going to be blown to smithereens, anyway. I might as well enjoy a little praise for signing up, without actually having to go fight in any stinking wars.
Investing In Aluminum Foil
If you read conspiracy theory websites as often as I do, then you already know that old canard about aluminum foil serving as a retardant and deterrent against nuclear fallout and radioactive particles in the air.
Thus, aluminum foil. The last–and arguably least exciting–item on my bucket list, will be plastered over all my house: The walls. The windows. The front door. So just maybe, some way, somehow, I could survive the nuclear apocalypse.
–Well, there’s my nuclear bucket list. I hope you had as much fun reading it as I had writing it.
Jack Bristow’s writings have, most recently, appeared in The Huffington Post, The Saturday Evening Post, and Mystery Weekly Magazine. Follow him, @realjackbristow.