Valhalla Here I come
This weekend I discovered that the disaster scenario that I described in my last post wasn’t as improbable as I thought it was. It was a bit of a joke, a thought experiment perhaps. To keep the mind occupied. However, this weekend I stumbled upon a recent video of a sheriff, warning the citizens of America for an almost exact similar scenario. Minus the Carrington event. But pretty close. He and his 3000 sheriff colleagues had been briefed by the director of the FBI, who had told them of imminent activated sleeper cells, Hamas style terrorist attacks, and black-outs caused by cyber attacks. All at the same time. All across the US. The sheriff urged the brave citizens of America to prepare for this event, since the police and armed forces would never be able to deal with this effectively.
I have to admit that I felt a bit excited. Yes. Quite a bit. Maybe that’s what the Universe had in store for me all along. It’s clear that self-realization is impossible in this cursed place. And that I will be stuck here until the End of Times. Now, the Universe offers me the next best thing. A chance to redeem myself, after becoming the lowest form of human existence that a man can possibly degenerate into. An economist and corporate bureaucrat. Nineteen years of being a proud stay-at-home dad are simply not enough to wash away the shame of that horrible and dishonorable past. No, the Universe offers me a chance to die gloriously on the battlefield, so I can drink ale with my illustrious warrior ancestors in Valhalla. That proud lineage of Frisian warrior kings, crusaders and Vikings.
I have stepped up my training program. Rowing 45 minutes a day. Plus an hour of cross-trainer. And two hour walks with heavy backpacks. Some weightlifting. Knife and bayonet drills. And I watched the movie 300 three times this weekend. To get inspiration on how to die with honor in a hopeless battle. And to memorize some great inspirational quotes. I quite liked “This is where we hold them. This is where we fight. This is where they die.”
My wife is a bit worried that I have already accepted my fate and that I will enter Valhalla soon. But what does she expect? She never allowed me to properly prepare myself for the coming battle. I am hopelessly under-armed and at a great technological disadvantage. Even after showing her the video of the sheriff, she still didn’t let me buy level 4 armored plates, a helmet, night vision systems, drones, a back-up homestead, or a second AR15. She only decided to diversify her investment portfolio and to buy gold. Which is hopelessly short-sighted. You can’t eat gold. You can’t shoot with gold. You can’t see your enemy in the dark with gold. I only managed to sneak in some extra batteries and ammo for 99$, just below the alert on the credit card.