Lambs To The Slaughter

It’s Saturday and that means the Seminoles went into the tank. This week they flew all the way to Boston to do it. I’m numb. Today wasn’t a good day. I didn’t really do anything. The best part of the day was my nap. The worst part was trying to put together a ceiling fan. I got part of it done, but I had the realization that I have every time I try to do something real: I have no meaningful survival skills. I spent sixteen long, horrible, frustrating years being “formally educated”, yet I can’t do anything that counts. What a complete waste of time. Actually, that’s not fair. I learned to read and write, and that takes us all the way up to the end of second grade. I learned algebra in eighth grade and geometry in ninth. I think the Pythagorean Theorem was the last piece of information imparted to me with possible, practical post-apocalyptic applications. What the hell am I going to do when the economy collapses, and it will. I can’t hunt. I can’t fish. I can’t plumb. I can’t farm. I can’t build. The Rule of 72’s doesn’t help me irrigate crops or dress kills. I don’t even know if there’s a place I can learn the skills necessary to survive after The Fall. FCCJ has turned itself into a four year college, so I don’t know if they still offer carpentry, plumbing, or electrician courses any more. I’ll never forget the professionals that did the foundation work for the Habijax house that I helped to build. A bunch of “uneducated” contractors making sure a bunch of doctors, lawyers, clergy, and other members of the “educated class” didn’t impale themselves with nails or drop a house on their own heads. I guess learning about the fall of Rome is paying dividends since I can see the same thing happening to the United States and I still have a chance to get ahead of it. I need to learn to use a bow and arrow.