Apr 102022
 

This may be my last Sound Off! posting for a while. I have other projects that require attention. However, life, the universe and everything provide plenty of inspiration.

 

You have no doubt heard about “preppers,” people getting prepared for a disaster so devastating that it completely disrupts our society. Many of the rich are preppers too, buying luxury bunkers or houses on distant islands where they hope to ride out The End. We despise the 1% for being so callous towards the rest of us, for owning Congress lock, stock and barrel so they can block laws that will increase the minimum wage, protect workers’ rights, etc. And now they’ll survive Doomsday, and we won’t.

Or will they?

They can boast and brag all they like, but there are some potential roadblocks that could prevent escape. Their getaways are not as secret as they may think. Unless the fat cats assembled those bunkers with their own hands, somebody else built them and knows where they are. What’s to stop the construction workers who know where the bug-out bunkers are from getting to them first? It probably would not be too difficult for others to find the locations of these hideaways.

In the novel Lucifer’s Hammer, an independently wealthy amateur astronomer builds a doomsday bunker for himself and his family, but after the doo-doo hits the fan he discovers that his servants have gotten their first – and they aren’t sharing. That is Problem #1: The Richie-riches have to get to their bunkers before anybody else does. If not, those claiming them will run the age-old line about possession being nine-tenths of the law. But what law will be in force after everything goes kaboomba?

Also, they have to get to their Doomsday dugouts at all. After whatever armageddon effs up civilization, many roads may be impassible, or guarded by brigands and highwaymen (and highwaywomen). Thus, the 1%-ers may not be able to get anywhere near their bunkers, or to ports where they could escape on their super-yachts, or to airports in order to board their Lear Jets. There’s many a slip ‘twixt cup and lip, as the old saw goes. Even if they get to their yachts, they may encounter well-armed pirates while trying to flee across the ocean blue. And if they hope for escape by air, they’ll need not just loyal pilots but also control towers and guidance. The more complicated you think the plumbing, the easier it is to clog the drain.

Even if Mr. & Ms. Moneybags and their snotty brats and their obnoxious Pomeranian do manage to pile into the family Rolls Royce, and the chauffeur is still loyal enough to drive them to their hideaway, even if they don’t get ambuscaded along the way, and even if they arrive ahead of the 99% hordes, they may be merely delaying the inevitable. OK, you’re in your luxury Hole in the Ground, with a couple year’s worth of supplies – but now your troubles may really begin. How long before cabin fever sets in? People under lockdown during the COVID-19 pandemic can tell you a thing or three about when the kids and/or significant other and/or dog really get on your nerves. Unlike the pandemic lockdown, folks cowering in their bunkers won’t have any way out. It’s one thing when you can sneak into the backyard, or even go for a stroll around the townhouse complex; but when you’re sealed in a bunker, you learn the meaning of claustrophobia. No matter how luxurious your surroundings and your chow, no matter how much you love and cherish each other (or think you do), sooner or later you’re going to be at each other’s throats.

Oh, guess what – you forgot to bring your servants with you. They’re not welcome in your bugout bunker, only the Moneybags family. Oh no, now what will you do? You have to cook your own food, make your own beds, clean your own messes. No more ringing the bell for the butler. And before long, those MREs are going to get boring. Soon the kids will be screaming that they’re [bleep]ing sick of games and books – they wanna go outside! How long before you lose it and smack ‘em upside the head?

What’s outside? A gloomy post-apocalyptic landscape and hordes of marauders. What if they find your hideout? They can’t get in, you say – but maybe they hate you for how you screwed up the planet and then retreated to your personal hobbit hole to escape the consequences. If they find the entrance, they can just plug it up with dirt, rocks and whatever so that your bunker will become your tomb. Or they may find the air inlet and decide to pour something really noxious in it – or close it off.

Even if your luxury lair is completely sealed off from the outside, you’ll have to rely on the machinery keeping it livable to work. And you’ll have to rely on a steady power source. Oh, you don’t know how to fix a generator or air circulation unit? Too bad the loyal fixit for your quasi-castle in the Silk Stocking District wasn’t part of your plans.

How long, Mr. Bigbux, do you anticipate staying in your hidey-hole? What kind of world will be awaiting you when you finally have to come out? Because come out you eventually must. And what kind of world will await you?

The power of the 1% comes from their wealth. However, whatever doomsday they dodge by heading for the hills, or their private islands, will destroy the infrastructure on which they rely. Money will have no value, except as kindling or butt-wipe. Numbers in a computer can’t be eaten, or worn, or used to forage or catch prey. How many richie-riches have any real training in how to survive in the wilderness? They’ve been pampered and coddled all their lives; they cannot survive without luxury.

Even if they manage to ride out the End of the World in their hiding places, they may find no place for them in the aprés-armageddon world. Nobody will need – or want – a hedge fund manager when everybody is scratching in the dirt for a living, when dollars and Euros and yen and yuan are trash. Those who were once on top of the societal totem pole will find themselves at the bottom.

In Pat Frank’s post-apocalyptic novel Alas, Babylon, an aquarium becomes a metaphor for society. When the power goes out, the fancy fish all die, but the bottom-feeding catfish survive. Thus, people who have done genuine work all their lives and possess the skills needed to help humanity through the dark times have the best chance of thriving.

Those who believe in looking out for their neighbors will do better than individual-minded right-wingers. I have read about preppers who boasted about going to their neighbors’ houses, stealing their supplies and ravishing their wives and daughters. Meanwhile, in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina, people who owned guns protected those who didn’t. People who believe in working together and know how to be resourceful will do far better than selfish jerks with useless skills.

Why Wealth Alone Won’t Save Billionaire Preppers

The Super-Rich will Not Survive Long-Term without Survival Skills

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