Apocalypse... Now?

Better add "negative proximity to nearest nuclear plant" to your dream house must-have list.

Daily I scour a variety of media, as you likely know, to see what madness is transpiring out there that I might put my typically snarky spin on. Today seemed like a pretty slow news day at first, with a bunch of boring stuff about interest rates and storm systems mixed in with a few hard-hitting exposés like Older Individuals' Distinct Scent: A Natural Occurrence, Not a Hygiene Problem, Scientists Say and If You See an Invasive Hammerhead Worm, Don’t Cut It in Half. Here’s How to Kill Them.

(Apparently invasive hammerhead worms have preferred pronouns, who knew?)

After taking a quick peek at the stinky-old-person story (I was just saying today I wish I had some new aging side-effect to worry about!), I was about to abandon my search.

And then I saw it:

Great weather! Good place to build a shelter! Lots of water! Fastest post-apocalypse Amazon Prime Delivery! (Fine, I made that last one up.) This is not a story from The Babylon Bee or The Onion. It’s an actual dispatch from the UK’s highest circulation newspaper, Metro; a meant-to-be-informative report not to give you an idea of your current abode’s relative safety profile, but to help home buyers find new, nuclear war-resistant residences.

Wife: Oooh, honey, look! This one’s got Viking appliances, a home theater, smart home automation, and a wine cellar. And it’s in the top school district in Cleveland!

Husband: Cleveland? Are you out of your mind? If they drop an a-bomb in DC or New York, the prevailing winds will blow that falloff right into our back yard. Cleveland’s off the table.

Wife: But… this is where we live! Our families and our jobs and all the kids’ friends are here!

Husband: I hear Wyoming is nice.

As someone who’s moved from New York to Florida to New York (again) to California to Texas, I know a bit about things that motivate a migration. My personal relocation reasons have included job opportunities, love interests (actually, just the one, dear), cost of living, quality of life, proximity to family, and escaping constant wildfires and near-communism. Do I now have to think about moving—again—somewhere less likely to get nuked?

Apparently, I do. At least, if I want to survive.

At the risk of appearing rude: No shit, Sherlock.

Although the piece is not intended as comedy or satire, I find it hilarious that the grand total of two experts quoted in this nuclear apocalypse survival story are… realtors. Like, the guy who is right now hosting an open house on a 3/2 with extra-large closets, a serene, spa-like master primary bath, and peek-a-boo lake views is the best how-not-to-die authority they could find? (And his red-hot house-hunting tip is, “The elevation of the Rocky Mountains means that fallout would be dispersed more quickly and assisted by higher winds, which could help to minimize any radioactive material reaching the area”? Yeah, but what’s its walk score and is there a decent pizza place that delivers?) They couldn’t throw in, say, a radiation safety expert, a nuclear physicist, a chemical warfare specialist, some badass military dude, or even a TikTok prepper-influencer?

In this chilling hypothetical scenario, a Realtor™ shows his clients a highly survivable duplex with great natural lighting and ample storage space.

For the record, I asked ChatGPT what sort of experts were best suited to issuing doomsday survival tips. Shockingly, realtors didn’t even make the top fifty.

If relocating to another region or state isn’t an option, I found a helpful and upbeat video that covers everything from how to survive a nuclear attack in the first place (basically a crapshoot) to how long it takes fallout to reach the ground (about fifteen minutes but stay calm and continue to monitor radiation levels with the radiation detector you bought in advance what do you mean you didn’t buy a radiation detector?). Oh, and if you’ve been separated from your loved ones, don’t go outside and try to find them for at least 24 hours.

Sure. No problem. I’ll just go ahead and set a timer then.

"The flash from the bomb can kill you by burning or vaporizing you,” the video’s perky, disembodied narrator explains, his voice superimposed over images of violent explosions and Dad cuddling with his toddler on the couch. “After that, a shockwave can crush your house or smash you wish debris.”

The short PSA, branded “according to science” you cannot make this stuff up, recommends distracting yourself from the death and destruction all around you and your possibly missing family members with a rousing game of Old Maid or Texas Hold ’em.

Hahahahaha this is the actual image from the video that starts, “If you weren’t killed in the initial blast, the fallout can finish the job!”

I’ve explained in detail why I’m not prepping for the End Times (namely, because evidently it involves tuna fish and also who wants to be among the small handful of near-annihilation survivors and the world’s population of cockroaches?), so it probably won’t come as a surprise that I’m not currently scouting for properties in the Rockies. Nope, I’m staying right here in my above ground bunker in Texas. It’s not especially close to any military installations that might be targeted (I hear that’s great for resale value), the surrounding hill country offers some handy natural protection from fallout *depending on the wind that day,* and it’s walking distance to a giant lake, where I can bathe [in radioactive sludge] and fish [for toxic striped bass and catfish] and cool off [I imagine Armageddon is going to be extremely warm].

Plus, maybe I’m wrong, but I bet Wyoming has lousy breakfast tacos.

How are you prepping for WWIII? Share your [not tuna fish related] tips in the comments!

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