Saturday, 10 January 2015

Jack of All vs. Master of One (Survival Showdown)

Disclaimer: No offence is intended to any individual, community, religion, or profession.  Any resemblance to the person(s) and/or objects mentioned in this post is purely coincidental.

I woke up this morning and was meditating upon (amongst some of my other morbid and ghastlier thoughts) what would happen if the zombie apocalypse came a little earlier than expected.  (If you were wondering, if it does happen tomorrow, we're all fried, of course, because you wouldn't have had a chance to actually think about the things I've written about in this post.)

And then, I thought about my chances of surviving (close to 0.1 percent; don't ask me how I know that).  If I were a different kind of person, would I have better chances of surviving?  Then again, in the end, would it really matter what kind of person you are if you have to survive the zombie apocalypse?

'Cause when the zombies come, they won't come in bits and pieces, first in one city, then a state, a country--when the zombies come, all of them will come.

No second chances.  It's either us, or them.  (Although I fail to understand why zombies would want to take over the world anyway, seeing as how they're already dead, and they have graves to live in.)

In the midst of all this chaos inside my brain, one question stuck with me: would it be better if I knew a little bit about everything, or a whole lot about one thing?

Instead of making this just about me, let's make this about everybody.

Case in Point: Jack of All Trades (A Little Bit of Everything)

Let's say you can sew, cook, read, write, juggle, shoot (a gun), program stuff (only a bit, pun intended), solve algebraic inequations (but not the hard ones), know a little Spanish (uno dos tres quatro--that kinda stuff), throw an axe (or knife, whichever you prefer), play basketball (but you're not on the team), and just know a little bit about everything else in general.


You live in a cottage in the countryside that has only the bare minimum supplies: wood, ropes, an axe, water, a bathroom (can't see how that's very useful, 'cause when the zombies come, we'll all pee in our pants anyway), some bread, blueberries, and an iPhone (just kidding).  Also, your cottage has a fireplace.

You hear the zombies knock on your door.  You are taken by surprise (or not).  You look out the window, and you see five of 'em ruddy creatures.  You can't run, there's no back door.

The zombies enter your room.

You're a moderately good actor, so you act all friendly with the zombies--

"Yo, wassup, dude? You want some sandwiches?"

"Man, we came here for you, not yer stupid sandwiches."  The zombies step towards you, sneering menacingly.  You still haven't peed in your pants, which is a good sign (and very favourable), since zombies are most likely to be attracted to the scent of pee.

You realize you have ten seconds to act (because zombies aren't Edward from Twilight and probably won't be ultra-fast).

You grab a burning log of wood from the hearth and swing it all around yourself.  In the process, you accidentally on purpose set fire to one zombie.  The remaining zombies step away from you.  You throw an axe at one, chopping something off, pour water over another (she literally melts).  Now one zombie has your axe and is pursuing you but you quickly step behind the other zombie so he gets hurt instead.

The one zombie who made the mistake of taking your axe from you runs away.

Then, you take everything and run away because you realize he's probably gone to get reinforcements.


Ergo: You survive, mission accomplished.


Case in Point: Master of One (A Lot of One Thing)

Let's say you are very extraordinary at music, and you play the cello every day.  You are moderately good, bordering on bad, at nearly everything else.  You have wood, ropes, an axe, water, a bathroom, some bread, and blueberries.


You see five zombies outside your window.  You start playing Pachelbel's Canon.  The zombies fall asleep.  You sneak out the front door, leaving your cello behind and taking only those supplies that will keep you alive.

Take another case.  You are extraordinary at science, this time.  I think it's a given you'll survive, since you're able to think logically and find a solution to every problem.

(Ergo: You survive.)

Suppose you are extraordinary at writing.


Now somebody tell me what the hell I should do, because I see five zombies outside my window.

Inspiration.

Days pass by My pen has dried up My papers are crumpled My mind is caged Words no longer flow freely My thoughts battle with themselves...