How to Survive a Natural Disaster (Spoiler: You’ll Need to Steal a Bucket)

I live in Oregon.  Our state’s proud motto: “Shivering in the rain ‘til the Big One hits!”  It could be an earthquake.  It could be a volcano.  Whatever it is, it’s going to be BIG.  According to all the super smart eggheads at Oregon State University (the kind of people who only laugh at calculous jokes), the Pacific Northwest gets a major earthquake every 350 years.  And guess what?  Yeah, it’s been 350 years! 

Lucky for me, I work in a 100-year-old building that is about as earthquake proof as my Aunt Betty’s china cabinet.

But hey, we could get lucky.  We might only suffer the cataclysmic effects of a Volcanic eruption shooting out molten lava raining down on our melting faces.  We’ve got a string of gigantic mountains running up from California all the way to British Columbia.  These mountains have been percolating like coffee pots since the 1950s.  Any one of them could blow at any moment. 

True narcissistically important fact: I am a volcano survivor.  When Mount St. Helens blew its top in 1980, I lived about 100 miles south.  I personally dusted volcanic ash off my Datsun B210 hatchback the next morning.  I’m not trying to say that you should consider me a hero, but if you insist….

The government keeps telling us we each need a survival plan.  But I’ve been too busy watching critically acclaimed programing such as Dancing with the Stars and America’s Got Talent to ACTUALLY create a survival plan.  So, imagine my luck when employees of Farmers Insurance recently moved into my building. 

Guess what?  Yeah, leave it to an insurance company to have a survival plan.  A REAL, honest to goodness survival plan!

But brace yourself, because it’s a little weird. Here it is –

You got it!  Survival buckets!  This NOT a joke.  I am NOT making this up.  They moved in with their survival buckets.   

Every bucket contains the following –

When I discovered the Farmer’s Survival Buckets, I didn’t hide my intentions.  I am NOT the kind of guy who would hide my intentions.  However, I am the kind of guy who would steal someone else’s bucket.  I told the Farmers employees, “Look, I’m going to be honest with you.  At the first sign of trouble, I’m going to yell, ‘Everybody for themselves,’ and I’m going to grab one of your survival buckets and get the “H” “E” double toothpicks out of here.  So, you need to modify your survival plan and prepare to be one bucket short.”

As a result of finally having a survival plan, I have found that I am much more relaxed.  My blood pressure is down.  I feel less anxious.  I’ve regained a spring in my step.  Although, I must say, my newfound friends from Farmers Insurance suddenly seem a little on edge.

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