Surviving the American apocalypse

I woke up this week to the beginning of the end of the world, a true American apocalypse. The federal government shut down because a handful of politicians, a group of people small enough to fit inside the high school gymnasium, can’t agree on basic principles like not shutting down the government, or whether or not you should show the pictures while reading Dr. Seuss books on the House floor.

These governmental spats were OK when we had lax overlords who just retroactively papered over their stubborn tantrums every fiscal year. Now, though, the government wants to be a stickler for its own shut-it-down rules. Ever since the 80s, this whole “obeying the law” thing has ignited several brief shutdowns and one three-week whopper. Still, we Americans are hardy. We survived. These scenarios didn’t spell Armageddon.

But those cute little shutdowns last happened in the halcyon days when Durango-style flannel shirts were chic throughout the land, and politicians could only send photos of their flagpoles to prospective mistresses through the United States Postal Service. Nowadays, when they’re not Craigslisting their chiefs-of-staff, the public servants in Washington lay out lists of unbendable demands like kidnappers asking for ransom. Then, in the same note of pasted-together newspaper letters, they decry that the other side won’t negotiate.

You can’t even have a debate in this political culture, because the parties involved aren’t having the same conversation. It’s like one side says, “We’re having grilled cheese for dinner,” and the other side retorts, “But I hate broccoli!” This Babel syndrome makes me fear this shutdown is truly the apocalyptic one.

That doesn’t have to mean the end of days, however. Perhaps we’re experiencing an apocalypse in the original sense of the word: a revelation, a lifting of the veil from eyes that once were blind.

I used to think, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. But I’m an American of the 21st century; if it’s broke, I throw it out.

The solution is so obvious. Let’s just shut down the government for good! We wouldn’t have to suffer through government shutdowns if the government didn’t exist in the first place. And why stop at the federal level? Let’s abolish all government! State, county, local: we don’t need ’em. Did the kids in Lord of the Flies need adults to set the rules? Having read the first half of the book in 10th grade, I can say with great authority that no, they did not.

Anticipating this inevitable endpoint of today’s American politics, I decided to see what it would be like to live without the government. So I went camping this past weekend, roughing it like my revolutionary forebearers.

Only, I didn’t have a clue about how to rough it, because I’ve been pampered by our nanny state my whole life. So I first went to the Durango Public Library and, with the help of a knowledgeable and friendly librarian, found some books about surviving in the wilderness. I read these books for free – no exchange of filthy American dollars! Breaking free from the regime, one step at a time.

I then had to decide where to test the life of a weekend frontiersman. Dozens of campgrounds exist within an hour of town, each with their own considerations. How crowded are they? Which ones have attendants, which ones have potable water, and which ones are already closed for the winter? So I called the local Ranger District to ask a bunch of questions, and discovered I hadn’t even considered the issue of toilets. The ranger kindly pointed me to several campgrounds where the facilities were open and serviced this time of year, thereby saving me from an unfortunate incident involving pine cones.

When I drove to the campground, I passed through some pretty dangerous stretches of county roads. These had been flooded by recent deluges, and I drove by boulders larger than my car. Thank goodness workers had promptly cleared these roads, or I never could have escaped into political freedom!

Yet even in my refuge, Big Brother shocked me with his oppression. Federally contracted employees cropped up and shut off the running water. How was I supposed to survive? I have no idea if river water is safe to drink, unless there’s some officially posted signage letting me know.

While sitting in the woods, thirsty but otherwise ungoverned, I contemplated the evolution of the government-free lifestyle plan. Of course this plan will have glitches. Every plan does. That’s where American ingenuity comes into play. When a problem arises, we free peoples of the once-United States will organize in such a way as to solve it for the common good. We’ll get together and debate the best solutions. There’s too many of us to fit in one room, though, so we’ll have to choose individuals to represent our views. When our spokespeople disagree, they’ll put questions to a vote. And, so that we’re not reinventing the plow every time it snows, we’ll write down our basic guidelines.

Don’t worry, these guidelines will not be hard-and-fast “rules.” We’ll make them flexible, interpretable and adaptable, in order to account for any unforeseeable circumstances. And we’ll re-select our spokespeople periodically, so that they don’t abuse the limited and necessary power we’ve given them.

The plan seems flawless to me. That’s why I’m not all that worried about the government shutdown. So long as park rangers can help us choose campsites, and librarians can show us the pictures to Green Eggs and Ham, we shouldn’t actually need any system of governance.

– Zach Hively