To The End Of The World With A Friend

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You wake up from an intense dream in which a voice spoke: Two more days and it’s just you two. You later talk with your friend, who tells you that he slept badly. The next night you have a dream in which pet dogs, even the friendly breeds, circle you hungrily. A man’s back presses against yours. You don’t see his face but you trust him. Then that same voice tells you: One more day. Everyone dies except you two. The next day is heavy. Bright sun and cool air, just like on the morning of 9/11. It’s just your grogginess, everything else is normal. You feel a yearning to hug the most beloved people in your life. You shrug it off and make it a normal day. Impulsively, you stop at your friend’s house but his wife says that he had slept badly the last two nights so he has turned in early.

You go to bed too.

Light blasts the unconsciousness. It’s only the two of you in the whole world.

You wake up. In due moments, you see bodies. Maybe in your bed and your home, maybe when you step out of the house (this depends on your living arrangement). This is not a dream. You are energetically making telephone calls but no one picks up, except automated systems. You hold the lifeless weight and you are never, ever letting go.

Outside, a small dog is licking the bits of capillary blood from the nose of a man who collapsed on the sidewalk in predawn hours. On the street, a car with a slumped-over driver had drifted into a parked car.

You hear nothing but birds, and they own the air.

The two grey plumes of smoke in the distance are jetliners that had dropped out of the sky.

You make more telephone calls. Everything works but no one picks up. Not anyone here, not anyone in any other countries. The internet works, but there are no new comments, on any site around the world that would have been posted after that predawn hour.

You remember your strange dreams. Everybody in the entire world is dead, except you two. You and who?

“Oh my God, thank you thank you, your’re here!” cries a familiar voice. It’s your friend. You compare your dreams, they were the same. You come to accept that you two are the only two people alive on this whole planet. You are grateful, beyond the human capacity for imagination, that the other’s there.

You and one person of your choice will be the only two people in the world alive. Whom do you pick? It cannot be a family member (blood or in-law), must be of your sex, and the difference in your ages cannot be greater than five years. 

There are many man-alone stories like Robinson Crusoe. There are stories about pockets of survivors after a plague, such as The Stand. Two men? There is Cain and Abel. What now?

First things, you both agree that you want to live and stick together, so you asses your environment. What are your immediate potential threats? It’s flattering to realize that you have always been the planet’s apex-predator. It makes sense now, as you relax. No men, no danger.

You live in a temperate climate. It’s still your country if you call it that and if you remember its history. There are no concerns about wild animals in your area. Dogs, though. Some of the dogs will have been free or broken out at police station kennels. Homes had pets. Some of those dogs are large but most will have been spayed. Accustomed to being cared for, they will be friendly, maybe eager to have you as their new master. But they will also be hungry. Those dogs that break out of their houses will explore the streets.

Over the first few weeks, they will have destroyed all of the small-snouted, short-legged breeds. Some in their hunger will have broken the human-flesh taboo, having nibbled on bodies. They will form packs and they will hunt. You will be easier to take down than a deer. You two will decide if you want to adopt large dogs as your own security, feeding them the plentiful pet food from grocery stores and eventually the deer you kill.

You can live in a castle if you want. Just be wary of physical security systems in banks or former government buildings. You don’t want to get sealed in a room. Get a truck. Plenty of those around. Gasoline has three months of shelf-life, diesel has about a year. Siphon it from other cars or from gas station tanks if pumps don’t work. Engine oil is good for five years.

How long can you run a generator? Do you need one? If you can build a steam engine, you will have power for life.

Can you command a horse?

Load up on batteries because it might be nice to hear music sometimes. You’ll miss it. Simple vocals and melodies though, not the studio pop songs. Those will strike you as absurd after a month of not hearing one. Get some acoustic instruments, teach yourself to play and sing.

Nuclear power plants. You know of ones in your region right? The internet should work for another few days. Look up all locations of those things on your continent, especially if you plan to travel. Safety systems will fail and you don’t want to be down-wind. Then, if you don’t already know, find out the direction of prevailing winds on your landmass.

Grab a paper road atlas from a store. Get guns, bows and arrows, knives, lighters and matches, clothes and boots, first-aid supplies, and canned food. Canned food can be good for up to six years, but you’ll learn to hunt and farm by then. Deer will be everywhere.

With you and your friend out there alone in a new world, chances are you’re just figuring out the do’s and don’ts of survivalism. Common sense will take you far.

Do the two of you want to be mobile or stay in one place? You might well want to travel. Marvel at how fast nature reclaims what was once hers. Travel exposes you to physical risk, but beware staying in one place. Cabin-fever will drive you two to madness.

If you opt to dig in, find a brick-construction house near a river. It should have a water well, be above likely flooding levels, in a climate whose extremes you can tolerate. A perimeter fence and with grounds large enough to farm. The fence will keep carnivorous animals away. Eventually, bears, wolves, and feral dogs will roam freely. Animals can escape from zoo enclosures when electrical fencing fails.

Summers and winters go by.

Do you trust your friend? He can disable you with a shot to the leg and then do whatever he wants. What if what you were told is a lie and there is a living woman. She will stumble out of the fields, in which case one of you two will have to go. What if one day you two come across a constellation of seven virgins. He’s thinking the same when he looks at you at night.

You’d mourn the closest people in your past life. You will probably bury them. Will you? I wonder, how soon do the big questions start hitting you: what is the purpose of doing this or that, when there will never ever again be another human being on this planet. There are no rules. Nobody will judge you. There is no future.

Banish any impulse toward homosexual relations. It will creep up in the absolute absence of the natural scent, sound, sight of a woman to maintain your hormonal equilibrium for the remainder of your lives. Nobody will judge you but that way lies a downward spiral.

You might be alert to signs that your friend is going crazy. But you should also recognize the signs of your own creeping insanity. It’s not always the other party that’s wrong. If you find yourself intensely dwelling on things and anger brewing within you, it’s not him, it’s you. Snap out of it, take stock of your mental condition before he rightfully kills you. Help one other stay healthy.

It’s so quiet by day. Just the breeze trying to tell you something. Throughout the night, it’s symphonies of wildlife, big and small. The song of the nightingale soaring up into the arm of the Milky Way. Anything is allowed. It’s not like you’re watched and judged.

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47 thoughts on “To The End Of The World With A Friend

  1. What a great fictional vignette; it would be nice to see more of these!

    I’m reminded of a piece I once wrote elsewhere, about the value of male camaraderie. I used the eve of my wedding as a jumping-off point, noting that my best man and I spent the day recapturing things we used to like to do together, with the awareness that it would “never be the same” again.

    LotR as a jumping-off point, noting that

  2. Nice one.

    I’d do an all-out romp w/ a splurging friend, with the choicest old wines and many wild swan sandwiches; then it’s off to the desert (with a vast supply of water) to fast often and practice uncompromising austerity; even attempts to surpass the 40 Days 40 Nights legend. I’d be trying to figure out why I was really among the last two people, and would pay closer attention to unpeeling the tart allusions in my parched dreams. Another romp every so often, then it’s back to unparalleled discipline and retrenching.

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  4. Sorry, I obviously muffed my comment, which was going to be to the effect that even in LotR the boyish adventure “ends” when they all get home and get married. Thereafter it’s Different and can never be the Same Again.

    Going back to the thought experiment, I really am not sure I can think of anyone with whom I would love to go on this adventure.

  5. EPG: that’s a good plan. Riding the end of the world with a purpose is the best way of riding it. And wine is nice.

    SJ: I do have someone “in mind”. A handful of guys in fact. It will come down to who is the healthiest, given the demands of the long haul.

  6. OT, and feel free to ignore if this kills the vibe (it is tangentially related, though) :

    PA,I’d like to know your thoughts on http://www.zerohedge.com/news/2018-08-03/92-turks-believe-human-rights

    Compare Turkey with Poland. Do you think it’s mostly semantics, and each nation has a different idea of what human rights are? Or is it more foundational, and rooted in each people’s idea of taking care of themselves versus demanding that others take care of them? I’m sure you have a third, better, way of tackling this question.

  7. I do have someone “in mind”.

    I think that you could explore this quite extensively. Is the phase of boyish camaraderie that characterized the hobbits’ adventure *supposed* to end (with marriage, e.g.)?

  8. Jaded Jurist: What is human rights? To a Turk, it probably means predominance of Turkish language and Islamic morality. To an American, human rights is White (Anglo, Protestant) supremacy, states’ rights, localism.

    The definition of “human rights” that’s operative under the transnational quasi-legal apparatus of globalism is centered on the deracination of core culture for the sake of accommodating corrosive minority groups and moral deviants. The contemporary West has the poorest genuine human rights record in all of the world.

    S.J., Esquire: I’m glad you picked up on the allegory of “last boyhood adventure” and the aspect of friendship before marriage… or before puberty. Reading that post, someone might wonder “what’s the point of such a strange premise.” And yet, it resonates at least as far as your interpretation goes. EPG gets it too.

    — Two’s company, three’s a crowd

    Three is unstable. One is always left out. Four is balanced.

  9. For as long as I can remember I’ve done The Stand intellectual exercise. Where would you go? I always eventually decided it would be best to stay where I was, the eastern section of the Mid-Atlantic states. On a sheltered arm of the sea, you have relatively easily obtainable protein from the bay/estuary, and in the mild humid climate you have relatively easy greens to grow and fresh water. If the winters stayed mild, as they have been for some time, I would start to believe in global warming and even be thankful that the Lost created it. One big concern, silly as it sounds, would be the lack of weather forecasting.

    Where did that photo come from? Is it from something real?

    [Someone posted it on Gab, no source info. A reverse-search reveals the source, so it’s proper that I attribute it:

    Photograph by MIGUEL MICHAN (Jiancing Historic Trail in Taipingshan National Forest in Taiwan) – PA]

  10. I was hoping it was from Santiago de Compostela. Cape Finisterre, end of the world, Ma! Still, that’s a great photo.

  11. There’s a fundamental difference in the camaraderie of men, than women. As much as I love my dear friend of over 30 years, whom is like another sister to me, I wouldn’t last three days alone with her.

    I would rather be alone, or follow my husband and children into death’s arms. There is no female equivalent of Merry and Pippin, or Motorcycle Diaries, outside of Hollywood’s mad ravings. Thelma & Louise was a female road trip away from the “abuses” of patriarchy, where they are constantly victims and constantly in trouble/danger and are SCARED, not courageous. There is no equivalent because the female brain doesn’t work like a man’s.

    I know I’m not saying anything y’all don’t already know. Just that PAs example/vignette and proposition of EotW illustrates and highlights the difference. Or maybe it’s just me, I’m introverted in general, not particularly intelligent or talented, and I have deep distrust of all but a handful of people.

    When I was much younger, below our currently acceptable age for marriage, I was fortunate enough to travel a bit to other countries and regions of the US. It was fun, but I was always happy to be home. When I was older, college grad, I had a job where I traveled to other countries and regions of the US, and it was never fun. I cocooned in my hotel room, went to my meetings, and came home. I can’t imagine life like that is *really* fulfilling for women. I think they’re lying to themselves, just like they lie to themselves about being strong and independent and able to dick around and make the rounds of dicks, and be ok. It really irritates me that they try to be men, instead of women.

  12. Philosophical exercises aside, and practical considerations being the focus, I couldn’t hack it with another female. Even one I like.

    I could hack it alone, I think. I can kill and butcher meat and fish, preserve food, cook over open fire, construct shelter, filter water with charcoal. I make a hobby out of cultivating primitive skills. It’s fun, and challenging, and it teaches you quite a bit about yourself. When it’s a choice between killing the cuddly bunny or starving, you kill Mr. Cuddles and live another day. This is why the decadence of veganism is so irritating – yeah, veganism is a civilizational first world comfort. Put any of these faux Buddhist Hindu yoga vegan chicks in a real survival situation…that would be a hell of a reality show. Is that why we have reality teevee? Real life is so boring and safe? /rhetorical

  13. Rabbits in the suburbs can be “friendly” and it’s easy to see how they get domesticated. There used to be a rabbit that would lounge in the sun and we would sit out there together and commune.

    Both rabbits and dogs are domesticated, to some degree. As are people.

    Which theme cannot really be overemphasized, in terms of philosophy and practical politics.

    I don’t know what it really means, but it’s something to do with how we do better as a social group, than as individual wild animals.

  14. Yesterday a woman walked by with a wolf dog.

    This dog was a mixed wolf dog breed, about 90 lbs lean and tall. It would be a lethal match for a regular-sized and unarmed man, White or otherwise.

    Wolfs and wolf hybrids have jaw strength well in excess of pitbulls and they can run about twice as fast.

    This particular dog had a friendly and non-aggressive look on its face, but even so the woman walking it was letting it loose (not off, but loose) from its lead. I made a point of not turning my back on the damned thing until they were well past.

    This woman was UMC respectable and not trash, and she has a dog that can kill niggers and probably dispatch pits two at a time BUT she didn’t know enough to keep it on a tighter lead when crossing paths with a stranger.

  15. Lone wolves die without their pack.

    I prefer small, tight family/social units to large herds, but the fact remains that we are wired to be with others. It nourishes the soul…as long as they are the proper others.

    Killing an animal for food is not easy to do. You really understand creation when you do it. I know a few bloodthirsty hunters who kill just because they can, who’ve wounded animals on purpose so they could take a claw hammer and savagely beat the rest of the life out of the animal. I do not like these people and I comfort myself with the hope of a certain circle of hell as their eternal punishment.

  16. I know a few bloodthirsty hunters who kill just because they can, who’ve wounded animals on purpose so they could take a claw hammer and savagely beat the rest of the life out of the animal.

    Do these hunters brag of their cruelty, so their reputation precedes them?

    Are there not others, in that particular hunting community or what passes for it, willing to put a stop to it?

    Hunting and shooting is not my scene, but I was recently at the gun store up in the country. I can’t imagine those guys would tolerate it at all.

  17. The adaptive advantages to sadism are easy enough to grok, for the brutal world in which we evolved.

    They express fairly common. Growing up in the suburbs in the 70s torturing animals.

    My close peer group never tortured MAMMALS, but reptiles were fair game. Frogs and snakes. I didn’t like it, and avoided it as much as possible.

    It’s well enough known behavior but here’s the thing. The higher order the animals and closer to humans, the more taboo.

    There was one guy who it was said would torture the mammals that he would trap. That guy was something of a hard case and a bully. I know his name and face to this day, and wish him ill as much as can be.

  18. Somebody insisted that WNs need to become gratuitously sadistic. There was a tone of inappropriate excitement in such comments and also when the subject of torture came up.

    That kind of self-presentation is repellent to everyone. I doubt that Brv. or Tim would relate to that. In fact, based on what I read in their own words, they came across as deeply compassionate men.

    The most charitable way of interpreting where a sadism-happy person is coming from, is that he correctly sees a culture of weakness and based on what he sees, he fallaciously reasons that if hard-heartedness is good, then perverse sadism is even better.

  19. I would want the person with the best survival skills. I know that person would not want me, but that’s who I’d choose.
    You are right about preferring simple music when you don’t listen to it often. I listen to about 1-2 songs a day, and I’ve noticed that a simple tune is more enjoyable now.

  20. The realization about simple songs hit me when I got out of a 30-day course in the Army. All of that months’ time was spent in austere barracks or in the woods. Complete detox from electronic devices (which was radio/CD players and TV then). After final outprocessing and graduation ceremony, I was finally alone. Once in my car, I turned on the radio tuned to a local Rock station and a song came on, which was a hit then: “You Oughta Know” by Alanis Morisette.

    While liking the energy of the song, a strange nonverbal feeling nagged me something like “what’s the point of all that bopping and jangling?” Or “neat sound, what am I supposed to do with it?”

    Hard to describe it in words. Yet music is a deep psychological need of humans. So it must be the more simple and melodic music we naturally like.

  21. Do these hunters brag of their cruelty, so their reputation precedes them?

    Are there not others, in that particular hunting community or what passes for it, willing to put a stop to it?

    Yes, they brag of it. At a Game dinner, a COP (an actual police officer, law enforcement) told a story of how he gut-shot a deer so he could chase her down, and was more than happy to deliver multiple blows to her eyes and nose and reproductive areas, too, to finally kill her. He said he regretted it wasn’t fawn season so he could harvest the veal inside her. I’ve met other policemen with similar bloodlust. And othe Not-policemen whom nevertheless share that bloodlust. Some deliberately run their trucks into animals so they can “dispatch” them “humanely.” It’s amazing what people will admit when they think you’re sympathetic, or just don’t care either way.

    Now, maybe, this kind of bravado and seeming hyperbole would be expected by a backwards guy trying to inflame some fence-sitting vegetarian girlfriend of a fellow hunter.

    Or, just an asshole. I know a lot of assholes on this order. Some of them are police officers. Others are just frustrated. Likely one and the same.

    And this bothers me.

  22. Provocative posting Chakrates. Good job.

    Like I said earlier, hunting and shooting is not my scene, but there is supposedly a hunters’ code of ethics, which they are meant to abide.

    I don’t know much about said ethics beyond a few buzz phrases like fair chase — but it’s safe to say that deliberately gut shooting an animal in order to bludgeon it to death, transgresses that code.

    Also. Deliberately gut shooting an animal is almost certainly against the law. If the guy is on record as having done so, and you would offer sworn testimony that he has made that statement, he could possibly be charged. It would be at best a tenuous charge, but even so.

    But as you inferred, it is not unlikely he was goading. Trying to get a reaction and be edgy.

    Camlost has implied that he has hunted bear, so maybe he knows about this stuff.

  23. I don’t hunt, but agree that it can be an honorable thing and for the right reasons. Of course. Who could disagree with that?

    However a lot of hunters are no better than fat slobs. Maybe a half point higher on the human quality scale than a typical niggerball fan. If even.

    A lot of hunters adopt this sort of faux morality about how we all eat meat — but it’s a faux morality if they don’t honor the code of ethics, or in the alternative simply use the more basic approach and respect the animal and its life to begin with.

    I did some good posting on this thread,
    https://paworldandtimes.wordpress.com/2017/11/04/its-ok-to-be-white/

    wherein is described the last mammal I deliberately killed, after accidentally impaling it on a tine,

    Re skill at arms and by way of illustration. I was pitching some compost and speared on a tine some poor old mole.

    That little rodent in its death throes screamed like a rabbit. There was a shovel to hand and i grabbed it and with two quick thrusts knocked it off the tine and severed its head. I had sharpened the blade on that shovel recently enough.

    There is no substitute for practice; but you can’t practice waging a campaign of war.

  24. There is a halfway readable book and current called American Wolf, and it is about the reintroduction of wolves into the West specifically Yellowstone and the local politics and some of the characters involved.

    Actually the book disappointed somewhat but it was good enough to finish.

    It treated fairly well the ye old theme of country versus the city, and some of the attitudes that go with each side.

    I like the country, but like wolves too. But that’s a city attitude. The ranchers out West hate fucking wolves and treat them like pests. And what’s more they despise city people for being sentimental about Nature and animals and especially wolves.

    That book is centered on the story of one very influential mother wolf who gets legally shot by a hunter and there are a lot of sad wolf watchers; and one happy hunter.

    But the book paints the picture of the hunter being this old school and avowed country boy, who talks a big game of his bona fides and ethics and fair chase — but when it came down to it, he got his wolf license, was driving past someone’s outbuildings, saw the wolf, got out of this truck walked a few paces and shot the great Shewolf mother.

    Was it fair chase?

    By the book, apparently so, but it is clearly implied it was no epic hunt.

  25. My truck broke down in rural Montana and I had to get it towed. I was lucky to find service. It was the middle of winter and cold.

    But the guy who came through, as we were in the cab, he was all goading me about environmental issues like mining specifically and logging.

    I had the good sense not to argue with his politics, and accept the ride.

  26. For some reason I thought that you were a hunter (it must be the “Elk”), but anyway, no matter. All that you say is true, but I particularly want to zone in on this:

    Trying to get a reaction and be edgy

    Just so. A person on the Right would like to think that the derogatory stereotypes aren’t true; that rural hunters are all good-hearted, traditional, law-abidin’ folks; and in fact a majority probably do observe the rules, more or less. But scummy white trash is a real thing too, and my hunting-and-fishing exploits have led me to observe two things:

    Firstly, that my UMC sensibilites lead me to be far more fastidious about following the rules than the average.

    Secondly, there is a sort of person who, apparently tired of “having to follow the rules all the time” in daily life, takes it upon himself to behave in the most childishly antisocial manner when he thinks he can get away with it. Thus I keep getting emails from my gun club abou yahoos shooting up targets they aren’t allowed to shoot. Thus the story about the punk intentionally gut shooting(!) an animal.

  27. “…what am I supposed to do with it?”

    My sister went through a considerable A. Morisette phase. One eve when we were both teenagers she had “Ironic” detonating in my car. On the second or third ‘It’s like RAAAIIIIN…’ I curtly ejected the disc, broke it into thirds and tossed the heated fragments in her lap; replaced it immediately with something like sonatas of Georges Enesco. This all on an eerily empty freeway in the middle of the night.

    At least the loftier (or perhaps simple) strains of music are relished like never before after Morisette’s alloyed hyena-hissing. Even the wind flapping through your window suddenly seems to have a symphonic conductor, the gusts baton’d by your breathing and somehow steering the soul past time’s squealing tombs.

  28. Elk, S.J., I have hunted game. It was heartbreaking to kill my first deer. He was a two year old weakling, wasn’t going to make it long, but that was no comfort.

    It is very, very hard to take a life. You can’t take life, lightly. If you do, there’s something wrong with your wiring. Extrapolate that statement into any philosophical iteration and you’ll find a truth. Maybe more than one.

    I have not hunted in years. We try to practice “spot-and-stalk” (you walk the woods, follow the animals, shoot when ready ie you know it’s a kill shot…it can take days) but opportunities are few here for that. So, it’s tree stands or blinds. Baiting is legal but we do not practice it. You vs the animal on the terms God dictated, or something. We have a rule: if you’re not going to eat it, don’t kill it. That is the general hunters code, but as SJ notes, a lot of people get tired of rules and become downright sadistic to relieve that stress.

    I’ve spent a lot of time in the woods. I have encountered bear and moose and bobcats, and a gator once, in Florida, and I’ve never been in a dangerous situation with those animals. The gator was scary, but he was small, couldn’t hurt me, however it heightened my sense of danger and made me more aware.

    Would I kill in self defense, or in defense of a loved one? Absolutely. Humans included. Kill for fun? Now, I know hunters enjoy their sport. It is fun, but it also carries a lot of weight of tradition and ethics. Torture, mutilation, deliberate dragging out of the process…that speaks of a damaged soul that hates itself but is too afraid to turn the lense on the true bad actor.

    I remember distinctly the first time I consciously killed another creature. I was maybe eight or nine. A Robin’s egg had fallen from its nest in a tree in our backyard, cracked and revealing the baby inside. It would never have survived, and for some reason I stomped it, and laughed, and immediately felt shame and horror that I was so callous and cavalier about a livything that, though it had no hope, deserved better.

    Maybe this is why we fail. Or succeed. Too much emotion over Creation. I don’t know. I asked St. Francis to hold that little bird and care for it. And then we found a baby rabbit the following spring, and I dutifully cared for it, as penance but also because I enjoyed it.

  29. and immediately felt shame and horror that I was so callous and cavalier about a livything that, though it had no hope, deserved better.

    I think that many or most of us will be familiar with exactly this feeling. Although I can’t remember the precise circumstances, I know that I did act out a scenario just like what you describe, at some point. For me I think it was more of a “this is what cool boys do [act callously towards the weak], so I’m going to do it too, to prove that I’m cool.” But of course I always knew it was going to be Wrong.

    In a way it reminds me of the first time I ever stole something. I was at my rich relatives’, and their kids had everything. I was so envious of one particular type of toy that I hid it in a sock and took it home. No one ever knew about it, but I *burned* with shame. I returned it on the sly next time I visited.

  30. I think that many or most of us will be familiar with exactly this feeling. Although I can’t remember the precise circumstances, I know that I did act out a scenario just like what you describe, at some point.

    I’ll shoot rabbits and squirrels and feed them to my dog feeling no guilt but I shot a bird when I was a kid just for fun and his bird friend came up to him wondering what happened. It was 10+ years ago and I still think about it.

  31. Not all, but many species of birds mate for life. You usually have to shoot two geese if you goose hunt. The bird, and it’s mate. The mate will hang around the body of his/her dead companion until it dies, of starvation or thirst. Dumb birds, haha just go get some fresh cloaca, idiots!

    This natural philosophy we have, it comes from long observation of the world around us. I’ll walk back my statement in vegans a half a step: those motivated by compassion aren’t wholly misguided, just naive. Many/most vegans are “meat is racism/sexism/patriarchy” types, at least in my experience, and are motivated less by compassion and more by a sense of *sticking it to the man.*

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  33. — Even the wind flapping through your window suddenly seems to have a symphonic conductor (Each Pond Gone)

    Nice. That one stayed with me.

    Killing animals: cruelty to a bug in childhood. A ladybug, as I sat at the edge of my grandfather’s field, bored as the adults worked. I mentioned it to someone and got a stern lecture. They say that age 11 is when children start to understand the concept of death. I was told that fact at 13. A kid on our street was 11 and I thought “I understand what death is… Brian does’t yet?”

  34. I dunno.
    I would try to travel to one of those facilities where they freeze women’s eggs and make sure it still has power, then see if I can go about cloning us a couple girls somehow.

    This occurs to me because I already have accepted the possibility that cloning may be required for our race to survive feminism.

  35. After the fallout clears and we can come out of the fall out shelter wed double time it to the local storage units. From their wed follow the rail road tracks across the newly created wilderness.

    Water is abundent if you have been carrying radiological units. Food stuffs are easily stored in climate controlled storage units. However, since the power is out you would have to check it for edibility. All the Cattle and other animals ready for consumption on farms would be dead or emaciated so youd be SOL.

    Ammo and fuel can be taken from downed vehicles on the highways (running adjacent to railroad tracks). Plus the overgrowth next to tracks conceals your movements. Concealing of movement is necessary as other two man groups (especially those who are expressing Cro-Mag genes) will shoot to kill without questions asked. Itd be The Road combined with your worst nightmares.

    I have all important data (internet restart, radio restart, paleo-conservartive living, technology, and weapons stored in EMP proof places). All bare minimum resources pretaining to this are within hands reach. Everyhing stored away is for rapid civilization rebuilding.

    A problem I can forsee is the knowledge to restart tribal bands or community areas. Without laws or higher authorities Gas Stations will become fire fights over everything. Brothels will instantly sprout up once reality sets in.

  36. Well, the idea is “last two people alive on Earth.” The Savior complex is moot.

    The philosophical exercise was about companionship under extreme duress, not how a Secret King would restore humanity to Western Civ levels of glory. Maybe you would find other bands of people whom assume they’re the last in Earth, and community could form. But the boundaries of the scenario were pretty clear.

    Why haven’t we had all-out nuclear war? I mean, it’s been an option since 1945. Sure would take care of all us pesky low-life plebes who eat and steal oxygen all day. Nevermind that anything that produces food, electricity, water, or clean breathable air would be melted into puddles and rendered useless by irradiation. EMP? Who cares? Anything that requires electricity would be vaporized or burned to dust anyway.

    What would it profit an elite to nuke the world, but lose its productivity? This is why I don’t really fear nuclear war. No profit in it.

  37. Hey PA more a response to the previous topic about the Warsaw Uprising but thought you’d find this interesting.

    For anyone thinking that the Warsaw Uprising was a cakewalk, check out the haggard faces of the Germans captured prison—they look starved, scared and exhausted.

    The Poles gave them a shit kicking only to be later destroyed while the Russians sat by waiting.

  38. Thanks for that video. You’re right: it was certainly no cakewalk. Polish combatant deaths are estimated at 15,200 killed or missing. German combatant deaths have a broader est. range, from 8,000 to 17,000 killed or missing. Polish wounded in action at 5,000 vs German at 9,000.

    The numbers turn grim when the block-by-block massacres of civilians in districts under German control began. Those figures are at 150,000 – 200,000 civilians killed. Germans brought in Ukrainians and Muslim Azerbaijanis to do much of that dirty work.

    The ’44 Warsaw Uprising is the largest urban insurgency in history. It lasted for more than two months. I dont emphasize enough the fact that it was never a suicide mission. The uprising was a well planned high-risk, high-reward operation.

  39. — see if I can go about cloning us a couple girls somehow.

    I like the solution-oriented angle. You’ll want to pick the right bioscientist for your companion. The hurdle: what wombs? Is there a workaround?

    — The philosophical exercise was about companionship under extreme duress

    You’re right, I didn’t even see this as a meditation on friendship but that may well be at the heart of it.

  40. -The hurdle: what wombs? Is there a workaround?

    Yeah, that’s the problem. Artificial womb tech is still 5-10 years off. It would take lot of work and difficult study to finish it ourselves and we might fail. We could try using an immunosupressed pig or something.

  41. @PA just looked this up and never knew there was a Muslim angle to the Warsaw Uprising which explains why some of those prisoners look Arabic not German. Their officers look German. The fact some officers have full beards and longer hair indicates they’d been under siege for a while before this film was made.

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