the tree of woe

Recently, I realized that I have no idea what to do in the event of an earthquake. I can’t really blame anyone else for that. There was little reason to prepare me for earthquakes while living in the Great Lakes region, but it is of some concern now.

This occurred to me when I was trying to think of what to do during an earthquake. My first, natural reaction would be to find a ditch. I don’t know why, but that seems to be my gut level reaction to all natural disasters. It’s probably valid for tornadoes and lightning, less so for hurricanes(wind, yes.. water, no.) It’s possible, I suppose, that leaping into a ditch(or hiding under a bathtub.. I don’t know why, but that seems pretty good to me, too) could actually be the opposite of the appropriate course of action. Perhaps the ditch turns out to be not a ditch at all, but the beginning of a rift in the earth itself, a great maw that threatens to swallow me whole. 

I have been told that the greatest threat from earthquakes is the aftermath and resulting destruction. I’m going to ignore that, and assume that the greatest threat is things falling on me. I think, in order to be safe from things falling on me, I’m going to subscribe to the Willy E. Coyote school of thought: I will carry around a tiny umbrella and a sign that says, “Help.” If I happen to notice a shadow rapidly growing around my feet in the shape of a, oh, let’s say a grand piano, I will hold the umbrella up meekly, followed by the sign. I will be crushed flat by it, but I’ll be just fine after the fade to black.

There’s something magical about drumsticks. Specifically, there’s something magical about drumsticks hitting together quickly, four times in a row. Whenever I hear that, a tiny voice in my brain says, “Prepare to rock.”

I think a good sociological experiment would be to take some drumsticks in a crowded place, hit them together over your head four times in a row, and see if anyone joins in the inevitable rocking.

I was thinking about Back to the Future II today(it’s much more efficient than actually watching it,) and I realized just how closer we are to 2015 than we are to 1985, and just how totally off-base the writers were. It’s not really their fault, though. It’s hard to predict the future. For example, exactly how Nostradamus successfully predicted the advent of the TripleSteak Burrito continues to amaze and confound.

It is ironic, therefore, that the worst prediction of the future comes not in the movie that deals with the aforementioned future, but in the first Back to the Future movie. When Marty steps up to the counter of the 1955 cafe and is asked what he would like to drink, he requests a “Tab.” When denied(and rightly so,) he then asks for a “Pepsi Free.” The man behind the counter responds with, “If you want a Pepsi, pal, you’re gonna pay for it.”

Maybe this joke worked in 1985. Meanwhile, here in 2008, I find myself in total agreement with the cafe employee. No, Marty, we’re not giving you a tab, and you’re expected to pay for your own Pepsis.