by Shelt Garner
@sheltgarner
I like to think of myself as a survivor. So as we careen towards the 2024 presidential silly season with the greater-than-zero chance that all hell will beak loose because of it, I find myself dwelling on what I will do if my worse fears come true.
I’ve written about this before, but my concerns continue to linger. I’m kind of a Blue spot in a sea of Red where I live and if the country collapses into stark worlds of Red and Blue — something’s gotta give. I just won’t be able to live in where I live anymore because my politics will inevitably be figured out and, besides, I would prefer not to live in Trumplandia, anyway.
I suppose if things got really bad, I could make a trek to Richmond where I have some relatives — but that would only be a stopgap measure because if things have gotten so bad that I have to flea my home, Virginia will be in chaos. In chaos to the point that I — and many others — will be fleeing the state for more stable states.
Virginia is two states — one Red, one Blue — fused together who hate each other. If there is any sort of revolution or civil war, Virginia will be one of the first states to collapse into political bloodshed. I suppose the longer-term solution to my problems in the event of a civil war / revolution would be to head farther north to something north of the Mason – Dixon line.
I suppose it’s possible I’ll endup in a big refugee camp in somewhere like Pennsylvania, update New York or Maine. The dream, of course, would be to get to enjoy some fun new life in New York City. But, alas, the more I think about it, the more I probably will be stuck in a refugee camp.
Anyway, all of that is “hysterical doom shit.” And very, very speculative. It’s at least possible that somehow, magically, we’ll be saved by some sort of Black Swan event or Biden will win, Trump will fail to cause a National Divorce and I can keep trying to sell my first novel.
