Even if we’re on the road to post-apocalyptic crazy town—unable to isolate the antibodies or make friends with our neighbors or handle our addictions—do you really want to live each day anticipating the end? Looking forward to circling wagons in the red-orange cliffs of rural West Virginia? A world with no microwaves? No computers? No Democrats?
Heat by fire? Travel by horse? Peace by shotgun?
Sounds to me like you’ve already given up on the rest of us. It makes me wonder how long you’ll last in those rocky hills. How long before you give up on people again? How long before you’re infested with idiots who just won’t listen? Hippies who don’t understand the right way of thinking?
How long before your only way out is to ditch the world again?