Sometimes, I like to think about myself and my loved ones in the context of how useful we’d be in the event of an apocalypse.
I personally would not be very useful, given that my day job involves making imaginary numbers do meaningless things with senseless letter sequences and other series of imaginary numbers, but I’m not without apocalypse backup plans. The shepherd thing could be pretty useful if my apocalypse situation managed to grant me some livestock and dogs, and if all else fails, I could be the Apocalypse Village Teacher. I’m basing this off of my resounding recent success breaking the will of a 10-year-old into sitting down and trudging through the addition and subtraction of mixed-number fractions, as well as the fact that Josh directs his children to me for a variety of important educational questions such as What is more than one Pegasus, is it Pegasuses or Pegasi? and How do you make the color brown?
Josh himself, of course, is obviously the Apocalypse Village Doctor. It’s one of those plot points which serves to illustrate the dire nature of the apocalypse itself, when you have some poor sap with mismatched blue scrubs and glasses that got scratched up by an AR-15 (these are both actual Josh Attributes by the way) sitting there on camera amongst the smoldering apocalypse ruins, stepping nobly up to the plate for the betterment of what’s left of mankind, “Well, I used to be a vet tech, but now…” And then the scene cuts to Josh resecting someone’s colon or something.
The Apocalypse Village might be a little way off, but for better or worse we’ve become the neighborhood veterinary professionals here in our mini-neighborhood at the TTH, and have done our best to assist creatures in peril when we are called to action.
tinytinyhouse 