#imagine making his horse a stocking with treats and whatnot in it ??
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cogneato-inc · 29 days ago
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What I Would Buy Them For Christmas: Arthur Morgan Edition
Modern headcanons !
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Ashtray (1, 2)
He definitely keeps ashing on the ground and throwing his cigarette butts into an empty planter or smthn
But it’s the thought that counts </3
Probably puts it by the front door to hold his keys instead
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Portrait Of His Horse (1, 2)
He doesn’t cry ever but it’s pretty close when he sees this
Especially if YOU made it ???
Can’t stop telling people about it, takes a picture to keep on his phone and show everyone he knows
Probably hangs it in the barn or something
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Pain Relief
We all know he needs it </3
But will he remember to use it before passing out after work,,, no <3
Bonus option here
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Scratchers
Classic Southern Man Gift (at least in my family lol)
Headcanon that he loves gambling - but only when it isn’t his money he’s losing
But if he wins he just spends it on everyone else
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A Day Off
I would have said ‘a vacation’ but we all know he’d go crazy within the first few days
Wondering what’s going on back home and if anyone needs anything
But you could probably convince him to take a day - though it does take a little coaxing to get him to actually relax without feeling guilty </3
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theravencroft · 3 years ago
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Survivalists and the Proletariat Apocalypse
This began life as a Metafilter post and has been cleaned up and lightly edited.
(To me there is a difference between prudence like having some canned goods and stapled and flashlights and whatnot and planning to survive the EMP burst with a dedicated SUV. There's prudence, as in preparing for a storm and bad local events, and then there's pretending you're going to be Immortan Joe and not one of the people begging for water).
I love making fun of preppers.
I think part of it is obviously the just world fallacy at work.
"When the hordes come for me, I will simply shoot them. But I'm just built different."
And some of it is fending off the fear of death and oblivion with telling yourself you are already prepared for every situation.
And there's a good chunk that's what I'll call the Libertarian Fallacy where every Libertarian assumes he will be the triumphant Captain of Industry and not one of the Voluntarily Indentured Servants carrying his palanque. It's like the old Bob The Angry Flower where the Captains of Industry get to Galt's Gulch and realize *somebody* forgot to invent the labor saving robots to do the dirty work like tilling the soil.
But part of it is when something doesn't happen for a while, people assume it didn't happen at all or at least not recently. It's the old "oh well if measles is so bad, what did they do before vaccines, huh?" Well, sometimes they just fucking died. Like it's not that long ago that even in very modern industrialized countries people had families of 8-12 kids and it wouldn't be all that surprising if maybe 6 or 7 made it to adulthood. Because they just died. Of stuff. Of Things. There was a Twitter that would tweet medieval death records and it was kind of funny because it's like "guy fell in a river and died." "Guy got hit on the head and died." "Guy got run over by a horse and died."
We're not really used to that anymore because of this invisible web of medical technology and public health and sanitation.
I obviously don't have a rigorous demographic breakdown of preppers but I suspect a lot of these guys aren't training for, say, the rigors of "No power tools at all," old school, walk behind the plow farming. Can you imagine the heart attacks and strokes? And even the pharmaceuticals a rich prepper can get don't compare to what a small town Walgreens has on hand for an ordinary Tuesday, not to mention the weird stuff they can order.
Oops, your precious kid to repopulate the planet has a rare birth defect. Used to be a 20 minute surgery, now you just die.
Got bitten by a snake? Ah, yes, I too remember antivenom. Would be great to have some of that now. But it turns out it wasn't profitable to produce so it was impossible to find even before total collapse. And even if we didn't have antivenom we could run fluids and machines to support your organs but we don't have that now, you just die.
Oh it turns out without mosquito control, mosquito born disease is a lot more common. And if you get the wrong one, you just die.
I mean how many totally well meaning people buy land in the country thinking they are going to run a little hobby farm and it is going to be so cool and they will have big colorful produce not like the crap you get in stores and then oops it turns out farming is hard work and it never ever ends and honestly a lot of times, you know, it takes a few crop seasons to really get anything going. And I know it's not really cool to admit, but a whole lot of modern farming is huge agribusiness companies with modern chemicals and whatnot for things like pests. Subsistence farming is hard, brutal labor where you barely make enough to survive until you screw up and die.
Yeah, yeah, organic, but lots of times farms fail and you just die.
Until relatively recently it was pretty common for entire regions and even countries to have massive famines because the crops failed and you Just Died.
Good thing we have modern distribution networks to get wheat from, I dunno, China when the Midwest crops fail because because there's no Army Corps of Engineers maintaining the levees anymore so a good chunk of the farm belt is underwater and never will be above ground again. Oh we don't have that anymore? What do we do?
Oh, we just die.
I mean, let's be real, most of these guys aren't picturing themselves as stocking up to spend the rest of their lives being an old timey sodbuster scraping out a living. They probably don't outright say it publicly (some do I'm sure), but the guns are so they don't have to do the manual labor. That's for the slaves/completely totally voluntarily indentured contract labor (depends how Libertarian they are).
They picture it more like, you know, because I was the one who was smart enough to get all these guns, then people will have to come to me, and THEY will do the work, and I will sit on the throne and have big ideas. It's being the Ideas Guy for the post apocalypse.
I would wager not many of these guys spend a lot of time studiously learning to spin and knit and weave or mastering growing flax or cotton or what have you to make cloth to turn into clothes. What do you think happens when your sicknasty BDUs that only True Operators wear rip from stem to stern? Goddamn clothes, nobody makes them to last anymore. Good thing there's a massive manufacturing and distribution network where child labor makes plenty of this in my size that wind up in my local Cabela's and...oh, I forgot, that doesn't exist anymore. Okay, let's see, we have 500,000 rounds of .223 and 55 years of MREs and...goddamn it Gary did you forget the go bag with all the clothes? Well how are we gonna survive? Winter is coming. How do we stay warm without clothes or blankets?
Oh, we just die.
That's not even getting into the monied classes. Do you think THEY are signing up for the manual labor. It is kind of funny imagining the billionaires emerging from their bunkers into the brave new world. Imagine Zucc swinging a scythe to reap grain or Bezos spending 8 hours a day bent over to pick cotton to eventually make clothes. Or the billionaire CFO and airport novelist teaming up to hand-dig the irrigation trench because we are getting low on stockpiled seeds and this is going to be it.
It's absurd. It's like the Hitchhiker's Guide ship entirely full of useless people.
The would-be Immortan Joe has a shot but how in the hell are you still going to be a billionaire when your money is a line in a bank database and "money" and "banks" and "databases" don't exist anymore. You're a computer programmer, dipshit, that requires electricity at the very least.
No, no, no. What they are picturing is, basically, the Proletariat Rapture. "I will retire to my comfortably appointed bunker where I will still get to be a big shot business guy and take meetings and be extremely important and all my guards with explosive collars to assure their loyalty will call me sir, and then something will happen and all the homeless and poor people I see on the streets of San Francisco and all the other poor people, the rabble, the useless, (include the races they don't like as appropriate), will be gone, preferably violently, with lots of suffering. And then me and my buddies will emerge, all 12 of us, all Big Shot Business Guys, will take our robot cars into San Francisco for Meetings and we finally, FINALLY won't have to risk soiling our $5000 hand made Italian dress shoes (new Chucks, in Zucc's case, man of the people) stepping in a pile of human shit. And everything will be exactly the same as it is now including a global electronic trade network and people thinking "apps" are life-changingly important, but even better, because the people I don't like are all dead, and we can finally settle in to the most important work of all, disrupting the convenience store industry by putting a little kiosk in the lobby of apartment building with some essentials, like a Bodega but see there's an app and it's automated."
That's not even getting into the lack of knowledge transfer!
We can't even get people to believe things like "okay so a lot of illness is caused by tiny things you can't see, and believe it or not the best treatment isn't thoughts and prayers or willpower or even bootstraps, it's covering your mouth and nose when you're sick or cough or sneeze and it's rubbing your hands together enthusiastically in clean running water with a mild detergent of some kind smeared on them" NOW!
By the shock collar thing isn't a joke. There's an article where the writer goes to one of these rich guy survivalist conference/seminar things and the conversation is pretty much literally...
"Okay so obviously we hire these mercenaries and private security and they've got the guns and we've got the money but, you know, how do we make sure they stay loyal"
"Well...you could try treating them really well and also including their families and taking care of them, so they have an incentive besides a paycheck, build actual loyalty."
*silence*
*hysterical laughter*
"Nice joke but seriously like I saw this movie where they had explosive collars and if they didn't like you or you turn against them or whatever, they blow your head off, does that actually exist yet?'
Say what you will about the robber barons of the 1920s but at least they realized some basics like "give back to the community a smidge so they don't remember they outnumber you" and "generally speaking our beloved capitalism requires other people to have at least a single wafer thin mint of money so the whole thing keeps going." These guys are like "okay but I could have all the money and also more capitalism enabling me to have even more money?"
Okay okay, work with me.
You are Reebok (some shoes they gave you, it said Reebok, that's your name) Smithandwesson (your gun, which you were issued at birth, as this is post apocalyptic Libertopia). You are a gate guard for the Republic of Cleveland, which is a thing, and isn't really a republic, but since you were born post-Event you don't have much of an understanding of what a Republic even is. But you have a job and that is okay because you have a weapon and a bunk in the barracks and you are basically fed and supplied. Maybe if you fantasize, you think about running one of the outer satrapys some day. But you are not a Founder. The idea of Moving Fast and Breaking Things seems odd, because things are hard to fix and replace.
You don't have an inkling or idea of what "shareholder value" is. You poor dumb son of a bitch. You will never earn incredible returns and work a 4 Hour Workweek and retire at 35 to give TED talks about ayahuasca and microdosing hallucinogens to crush code and design Wireframes for cutting edge AR devices to stream Burning Man and meet new angel investors.
You know some of these words, but they are words and the important ones are different for you.
Your job is actually kind of interesting. You don't really make the final decision about who gets to be a citizen or a concubine or a slave or even a fellow gate guard. You just kind of do a screening to see, you know, does this person seem more or less healthy and useful. Because even glorious Cleveland requires a certain trade of useful labor of some kind in exchange for the hassle of getting you clothes and food and shelter, all of which are in short supply.
Sometimes you vaguely wonder who Cleve was and why this is his Land, but not deeply, more daydreaming between people approaching, petitioners, traders, madmen, the occasional raid. It's interesting enough, every day is a little different, and it beats the poor wretches who toil in the field. You don't get to do deep evaluations but you kind of pride yourself on deciding who gets to enter. Really deciding who will be a future citizen or slave and who gets gently herded away or shot at or shot depending on a variety of factors. You're not a murderer exactly but killing is a casual decision, sometimes a matter of self defense, sometimes an act of compassion like putting down a mad animal.
Zucc or Jack Dorsey or Jeff Bezos have emerged from their bunkers tanned and rested and ready to deliver a ton of value to the post-apocalyptic shareholders, especially now that the idea of "national government" is gone. Free at last to disrupt, unhindered.
But...
There's not a Ted Talk in sight. You wonder whose job it was to maintain the ATM network. Jim Cramer isn't returning your calls. Actually, you can't get any calls. Nobody seems interested in having a breakout session. There are definitely NOT butts in seats at the office, much less meetings or presidential runs. Elon is unreachable. Weirdly, nobody seems to know how the whole Mars thing is going. Or what Mars is.
Over a period of time even the most promising 30 under 30 begins to break down and admit that okay, I cannot find a single sushi restaurant of any kind.
Nobody seems to offer you a kombucha.
There is plenty of raw water but there also seem to be a LOT of people dying of waterborne disease, which is odd, since this is the most pure and organic and unfiltered water possible, especially since toxins seem to be unknown. Nobody knows what they are anyway or that Gwyneth had a great way to shit them all out and get it over with.
Using acai, isn't that cool? It's a superfood.
Through time and necessity and plot device, Bezos or Zucc or Dorsey have arrived in front of you, reduced finally to asking for refuge or sustenance or food it doesn't have to be organic but it would be nice, you know.
There is an air of desperation about them but you know enough to put it down to hunger and theist and some loss of status perhaps. But you steer the conversation to the thing you really care about: what skills do they bring? How can they be of use?
They do seem to think they are extremely important but don't seem to be able to tell you what they actually do. You sort of get the idea of "thought leadership," But telling other people how to be in charge when you don't have a rifle, much less 300 mounted troops, seems odd. Why would they listen? They plead with you but you don't really get why it's important all voices be represented in the conversation about Star Wars, even those we find loathsome. You didn't even know the Stars were at War much less who they were fighting.
But it's kind of fascinating.
They don't quite sound completely gone but they do seem deeply convinced that they "deliver shareholders value" by optimizing bottom lines and making tough choices.
You snort.
Whether to try the "meat" on Wednesdays, now THAT is a tough choice.
While this is an interesting bit of novelty for a while, you soon grow bored.
Maybe you send them away.
One tells you he is the richest man in the world but seems to be offering you stock options but you can't figure out why you would want the chance to maybe buy some things at a reduced price and then sell them later at a high price if Previous Performance Indicates Future Results which it definitely DOES NOT wink wink.
Maybe you send them onward because they seem reasonably lucid despite being convinced they went to Space as a Real Astronaut, whatever that meant. Many "important" men found out their choice now was to shovel shit or starve. Most shoveled. Some starved.
But you always wonder if you were missing something. It was kind of weird how convinced they were that you should've heard of them or a book of...collected faces, apparently. To say nothing of the very odd man convinced getting a wide array of opinion on the gender of some manner of knight was of life or death importance. Knights were hard to find. And who is Jed I. anyway?
Oh, well, another day on the gate.
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