When you both shit hard enough together at the same time and wonder to yourselves “was that splashback mine…?”

Quench your thirst with sausage infused water by throwing a respectable number of Vienna sausages in one of those infuser bottles.

A crow eating chicken and a human eating beef are actually really good parallels. Crows and chicken are 91 million years diverged while cows and humans 94 million years diverged.

I’m not particularly good at any one thing. I have a PhD, but not in a subject that’s “practical” in the post apocalypse. I’m physically fit enough, but I’m not a paragon of strength or agility. Relatedly, I’m in my mid30s, so not old, but not spry either. I’m handy enough to fix things with instruction and some light jury-rigging, but I’m hardly a Macguyver-type. I’ve never fired a gun before, but I can probably learn to use one.

Assuming I’m not killed instantaneously, or shortly thereafter, I’m an extra set of hands or an additional mouth to feed, depending on your perspective. Charitably, I’m analytically-minded and useful enough in the field, low to middle management type; less charitably, I’m an NPC type that happens to have some amusing dialog.

In a movie or tv show following a group in the post apocalypse, I think I’d be like the 4th to die; dignified enough to have established a minor story arch, but certainly not enough to be a main character. Also not so unimportant that I’m killed off screen (or worse yet, ret-conned).

Dollar Store John Travolta: I Shit Myself Edition

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