The Jackal

We live in dangerous times. Terrible times. End Times, some would say, and I have no reason not to believe them. Threats abound on all sides, creeping forward on sweaty, calloused feet, determined to annihilate our sacred folkways. We must defend ourselves, preserve our culture, save what we can against the advancing hordes.

You’re going to have to pry this remote from my cold, dead fingers, amigo, if you think you’re going to get me to change the channel. Telemundo? No comprendo! MSNBC-U-Later, alligator!

It wasn’t always like this. When I was a kid, we felt safe. Well, safer. We left our browsers open, day and night. Friends wandered in and out. Kittens, too. (Remember that cheezburger cat? Good times.) Sure, the occasional Nigerian prince would pop his head in, try to stir up trouble, but you felt like you could handle it, put them back in their place, which was very far away, across lots of water. The oceans are God’s moats, protecting us from harm. But now, the troublemakers are anywhere, everywhere. In the schools, at the malls, in the halls of Congress. No institution is safe. Not even NASCAR.

Sometimes I think I should just get it over with, throw caution to the wind, open the door and step outside. But then I remind myself that I’ve got something worth saving. It’s called heritage, bub, but you wouldn’t understand that, would you? You’re trying to flee yours. What does that tell you?

And now it’s official: An emergency has been declared! Sure, we’ve been in a constant state of emergency for years now, but it’s good to have some confirmation from above. This is our cue to spring into action. Some of you are taking up arms and deploying to the border. I applaud you. Godspeed! Me, I’m not a soldier. I’m a preserver. My calling is to keep the culture alive—starting with myself. And that’s why I’m gathering everything I can and bringing it with me: the bowling trophies, the high school yearbooks, the photos of mum and dad, the printouts from Ancestry.com and 23 and Me. It’s all going into the bunker, along with enough provisions to get me through this mess.

I’ll see you on the other side, my friends, when we can crack a few brews and laugh and reminisce about that one time when we almost lost it all. Almost.