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Survival of the Daddliest

This post originally appeared on HowToBeADad.com

I swear I don’t wear tinfoil hats. I’m not a huge fan of bunkers. I don’t have an armory. Yet.

So, why am I anticipating the collapse of civilization these days?

I’d never admit it, but the end of the world and my fatherly place in that scenario scares the piss out of me. My wife and I used to love a movie with good “apoca-porn”, films depicting the end of days with plots centered on ‘survival of the best looking’ and truckloads of money spent on explosive effects. My wife was a fanatic. When our son arrived, that all changed. If I witness a child in harm’s way in a movie or in print now, all I see is red. I feel like I might burst into a billion particles of testosterone.

I can’t shake this feeling of being unprepared for threats against my family. I’m talking about having to protect them midst the violent chaos of a total planetary reboot. Financial. Political. Cultural. Or otherwise.

I was watching The Walking Dead, our recent obsession, and the lead of the show ran through a forest and across fields carrying his injured, near-lifeless son. I looked over at my wife and said, “I couldn’t carry Finn (who’s a solid 30 lbs.) more than a half mile, let alone run it.”

Now, it’s very possible I’m the only one carrying these thoughts around in my head, but I’m alarmed by all these movies and books that depict apocalyptic events. In every case my focus is drawn toward my own faults, my failings if that thin veneer of social order were to fracture.

I hope all the children in the zombie apocalypse have such good manners...

Under duress and threat of public stoning about six months ago, I read the entire Hunger Games trilogy over a few days. Following those (Young Adult, my ass) novels, I woke up to the realization that I have very few life skills. I can’t shoot, kill, clean, cure or cook an animal with any proficiency. If I had to choose between edible plants, I’d probably lick night shade and wipe my butt with poison oak before the fauna came in for a groin punch against my survival.

Let’s not even talk about the book/movie, The Road. That shit messed my head up for MONTHS. Not a hobby of mine, you know, thinking about ending my life if the social fabric frayed. And I’m not exactly pro-cannibalism or anti-thumbs…

READ THE REST!

 

Read more of Charlie & Andy’s blabbing at HowToBeADad.com.
And don’t miss them make fools of themselves on social media! Follow them on Facebookand Twitter!

 

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