3 types of apocalypses: zombie, Geo-political, environmental


3 types of apocalypses: zombie, Geo-political, environmental


Written by Liam Jones

There are few end-of-the-world scenarios that Hollywood seems to recreate over and over and over and… So, allow me to paint the picture in each situation, and how we would still come out on top as loyal citizens of the United State of Wyoming.

You’ve seen it before on the big screen. Decrepit, empty skyscrapers stand as monoliths to an age of man long past. Vegetation has crept back and claimed home to the urban jungle, constricting slowly and deliberately. Local roads and highways are eternally congested with long-abandoned, rusting cars and the only pockets of humanity left are either roving bands of mutant cannibals or emaciated hunter-gatherers, clinging to a myopic existence in the remnants of civilization. Such a scene can only describe two things: the apocalypse or Detroit in about 5 years.

However, fellow Wyomingites — I am here to tell you that there is hope. You may not have realized it, but by the virtue of living in Wyoming, you’ve taken an important step in surviving these three end-of-the-world scenarios, and we’re here to tell you exactly why the Equality State will shine as a defiant beacon of humanity in even the most dreadful day of reckoning.


This one is pretty easy. Say there’s a virus that turns its carriers into mindless, flesh-hungry eating machines. Now, imagine that the rest of the country has been overrun by these most unsavory characters and every yuppie from out of state is an autonomic bag of germs and hunting instincts. Do you know why Wyoming would be safe? First, since there’s so damn few of us, if you take a brisk walk in any direction, your odds of being within viewing (re: chomping) distance of a zombie are slim to none. Second, we own guns. A lot of guns. Zombies may be driven by some primal, animalistic desire for flesh and possess a devilish lack of empathy, but how well does all that stand up to a bullet barrage? Not well. Third, we’ve got a whole hell of a lot of mountains. Have you ever seen a zombie try to hike up a mountain? Neither have we, but we assume it wouldn’t be very successful. Fourth, we have incredibly harsh winters. Even now, as fully functional, non-brain-dead humans, we have a need to bundle up, build fires, seek shelter and generally suffer to survive our own winters. Now remove any practical motor skills and any sense of self-preservation and you’ve got a whole herd of Jack-Nicholson-at-the-end-of-the-Shining looking corpses.

So, what’s next?


Foreigners are scary, right? They sure are. Personally, I prefer to deny the existence of other countries and states in a true return to ’40s-era isolationism. If you close the blinds and wrap yourself in an American flag, it’s fairly easy to pretend our 98,000-square mile slice of heaven is the only thing in the world. Now, for a brief trip back to hypothetical reality, let’s assume that some dictator hates freedom, eagles, baseball and apple pie enough to declare war on the United States. Now, we’re asking you to suspend enough disbelief to assume that the dizzying weight of the United States Armed Forces wouldn’t crush any prospective ground invasion. To that point: it’s no surprise that the United States has the largest air force in the world. But, did you know that the Navy/Marines have the second largest air force? And can you guess who has the third largest air force? The US Army. That’s a whole lot of flying things, and a whole lot of things in them that make enemies go bye-bye. Anyway, suspend disbelief for a moment and assume that a full-scale invasion: bombs, ground troops, the whole enchilada, is in its infancy stage. If we were planning to launch an attack on the United States, a large, supposedly sparsely populated perfectly square state would be mighty suspicious. We might be thinking to ourselves, “There’s no way that’s an actual state. They must be hiding something there. Or, it’s a trap, and it’s just a gigantic pit of alligators. I’m not sending my troops to be swallowed by gators, nor will I waste any bombs on those prehistoric monsters.” So, while the rest of the US is embroiled in something as unsavory as an invasion, we’d be sitting back, having a stiff drink and watching the rest of the world end around us. Now, if they were a savvy world leader, they might realize that Wyoming does indeed exist and that we have oil and nukes. Let’s say they send a few planes full of enemy soldiers looking to do general “enemy soldier” things. Well, we still have lots of guns. And horses. Angry horses. We could ride our angry horses armed to the teeth and secure our state against the coming foreign tide. Did this bit of the article get a little bit too nationalistic (or whatever the state equivalent of that is)? Feel free to cry about it to your new, foreign overlords, you traitor.


The Earth can be a cruel mistress. She’s also prone to violent mood swings all because of the relatively innocuous practices of humans poisoning her soil, water, and air. Personally, I’d say we’re relatively blameless, but the world seems intent to prove us wrong. If the 2004 plausible-documentary-in-retrospect The Day After Tomorrow is to be believed, an iceberg the size of Rhode Island will break off from an Antarctic ice shelf and wreack some deadly havoc. Oddly enough, this may not actually be too far from the truth, as fate would have it. There’s an ever-growing rift in the Larsen C shelf, as of this writing it’s about the size of Rhode Island. Upon fully separating from the shelf, we might be living the unfortunate reality of a subpar disaster film. This isn’t the only gambit Mother Earth has in her lethal bag of tricks; however, her worldly cunning knows no bounds. She might pop us off with some torrential storms, followed by a hearty entree of devastating floods and some stagnant water disease for dessert. Or, she might go pragmatic yet equally deadly and stir the pot with a bunch of tornadoes. Even still, she might belch out an earthquake big enough to level Mt. Everest and the ensuing tsunamis could swallow the whole world in an instant. You might be asking how geography would play a role in such a case. Well, if the world’s ending, it would have a negligible effect on us. Despite that fact, I’d like to see a 25-foot wall of water stand up to all these guns. We’d make watery swiss cheese out of it – I reckon. Plus, if most of the world floods, we can seek shelter in the mountains, provided they haven’t crumbled.

DISCLAIMER: In the case of the Yellowstone super volcano erupting, we, like everyone else, would be dead. But here’s the upside: we wouldn’t have to suffer the fallout from the poisonous ash. We’d all probably just be roasted straight out the gate. Take that, everybody else.

So, there you have it. In the case of the world ending, you can sit back, enjoy your favorite beverage, and laugh at all those out-of-staters who made fun of us for Brokeback Mountain.

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