An apportioned bunker in the woods...

There may have been a time when living amongst a wild throng of humanity appealed to me. That time was likely sometime around the zygote stage. Since then I've enjoyed a healthy mistrust of my fellow man that has congealed into a fine scab of disdain as my years in the "big city" of Chicago grow. To this end, I've decided I want a bunker in the woods.

I never liked math as a kid. It wasn't hard, really, it just bored me. 1 + 1 was always 2. Little did I know that grown-ups can wield magic as an Accountant or Politician and 1 + 1 becomes any number you want, say 1,000,000 even! That kind of math I could get behind. The Hair-Helmet-formerly-known-as-Governor-of-Illinois-Rod-Blagoyankovich (or whatever his name was) wielded some awesome math-fu here by making numbers out of thin air! He borrowed money from a future budget to balance a transit budget today, among other things. On a side note, Wimpy got busted trying that shit out at a local Bar and Grill last Friday for a burger-fee on Tuesday, however he was unelected and/or lacking a financial degree and was promptly bounced by Bluto. So in the spirit of giving math another chance, I've used it to create what I lovingly refer to as the "Asshole Equation."

The fundamental concept behind the Asshole Equation is the following: There is a fixed rate of 1 out of every 100 people you run across that is an Asshole and for every 4 people NOT an Asshole in that 100, for every 2 minutes they spend in contact with an Asshole, they become an Asshole. This has dire consequences for humanity as you might imagine.

The equation shows the potential for all of mankind to be wiped out in a plague of assholishness in mere months. In the past, population centers were not so dense. If the 1 in 100 "infected" were to try ruining your day by trying to asshole-up your neighborhood, you could rightly ignore him until he left, ostracize him, or pack him up in a box and mail him to Ted Nugent who, as it turns out, uses assholes for target practice. Now, however, you are stuck living near so many people, you are doomed to be at least within shouting distance of one true asshole, maybe more if you live in a city as large as mine. Add to this the growing broadcasting trend of reality TV and even sparsely populated areas risk infection from the airwaves as the average viewer is scientifically proven to watch a minimum of 5 minutes of any given show due to RCFMA or Remote Control Finger Muscle Atrophy.

Welcome to the bunker! My solution to this coming catastrophe is a bunker. While a cabin in the woods sounds great, I really want something on par with a cave. A place nice and warm and covered for rain that I could soundproof somehow and in which I can totally escape.

After a great deal of soul-searching, I conceded to my wife that I possess no real skills for self-sufficiency. In fact, if some more deadly, but far less interesting, armageddon comes first like a nuclear attack, my role in the post-apocolyptic society would probably be Chief Ratter. I don't like salads and I don't know how to grow the 'taters I eat with my meat so I'll have to hunt for the food I eat. Cows are big and prove difficult to kill for someone untrained in weaponry. This leaves me hunting rats, mostly with a toaster.

On second thought, I don't like the sound of Rat-dogs. Mostly because I can't make mustard and who wants a rat-dog without mustard? So a well apportioned bunker in the woods, preferrably with a generator, stores of food, and video games is what I need. Funding this sanctuary may prove hard, but we all need goals in life, I've got mine.