From time to time here, I like to impart uncommon wisdom from a place you may not know or have not yet fully appreciated: Suburbia. Tonight that advice is simple. If you are going to live in Suburbia... Buy a pitchfork.
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If you’re coming from the city, you will see a pitchfork & probably think of American Gothic. And then you will probably make a joke to your significant other—probably an art major, if we’re being honest—& you will both laugh as you leave the hardware store with only lightbulbs
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If you grew up in Suburbia, you might remember your own parents and the tools they had in the garage. You won’t remember a pitchfork. And so you won’t buy one, because, you’ll say with a suburban grin, “pitchforks are for hicks.” And your accent will be terrible.
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And if you are from the country, you will think, “I am moving to Tract Home Vinyl Siding Hell. Why would I need a pitchfork?” And you will imagine a Fast Times at Ridgemont High scene featuring you, Phoebe Cates... and no pitchfork.
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I’m not here to boss you around. And if I tried to explain why you need a pitchfork, you would laugh at me and ask how my neighbors Brad, Chad, and Brad are. (And they are fine, thank you.)
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So, we’ll leave it at this. Duct tape is a given, like some sort of cooler for beer and some sort of hot outdoor device for cooking (Charcoal if you care about yourself.) A very long pole. (With which most problems can be solved.) And a pitchfork. You’re welcome.
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Replying to @BradWillis
I grew up on a farm. Here’s all you need to survive: Duct tape Pliers Balin’ wire WD-40 Pitchfork
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Replying to @Grange95
I don’t think I have to tell you, I have every one of those here. (had to replace the WD-40 this week) And a very long pole.
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When the zombie apocalypse comes, we’ll nod knowingly over our fences and settle in for the long haul*. * Long haul means until the liquor cabinet and wine cellar are empty.
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