By Corey Poulin

There are two stages to every apocalypse scenario: the initial impact and the survival afterward. Both can be tricky to prepare for, and having one plan that satisfies both issues is almost impossible. There will always be a factor of unknown. There are simply too many things that can happen for even the most resourceful individuals to foresee.

For example, you may build an epic bunker designed to withstand a direct asteroid assault. Naturally, your plan is to stay in this bunker while the rest of the world melts under the piercing flare of banality. Any seasoned disaster planner is going to make sure this bunker is well stocked with food, water, and entertainment to last for months, even years. But when your supplies dwindle, your plan will start to crumble. Maybe you knew this day would come. Perhaps you even planned for it. But you don’t know what lies beyond the safety of your bunker. Nothing you planned for can possibly take into account the massive variable that is the aftermath of an apocalypse. It is entirely possible that the asteroid spread a devastating radioactive cloud, slowly and painfully transforming the surviving surface dwellers into violent, dolphin-faced killing machines.

What in your precious bunker is going to prevent that aquatic mammalian grin from turning your chest into a red-colored chainsaw pincushion? NOTHING. Not even guns! Because I forgot to tell you that they are bulletproof dolphin mutants.

So what does this mean? There has to be some underlying moral of this terrifying and highly plausible scenario. The moral is this: If you include a sound guy in your survival plans, you will win. You will win regardless of how socially haphazard and sexually irresponsible your plan may be. This is because the noble sound man is the apex of humanity; the pinnacle of survival.

We don’t need to go into details as to how our hero acquired these abilities. Of course, the rigorous training, sleepless nights, and countless hours spent toiling with his pre-apocalypse job is the source of his power. The true question is how this training will help in the aftermath. He possesses traits that are indispensable to the survival of his peers. Each trait serves its own purpose:

There is no emotion:
Sound men have seen it all. From riggers being violently electrocuted and thrown from the top of truss, to witnessing domestic disturbances in the middle of congested Vegas intersections. While our hero watches these acts occur, he becomes immune to emotions. When you see an angel sever someones finger, you become a broken shadow of your former self. Becoming fearless is important in any apocalypse scenario. Fear clouds judgment, and good judgment is essential to survival. When robots rise against their human masters and enslave us forever in a computer simulation, we will rely on the sound man to activate the electromagnetic pulse generator to disable our overlords. He wont know what an electromagnetic pulse generator is, perhaps accidentally pressing the button while searching for the last green otterpop in the shop freezer, but you can damn well be certain that he will be the one to press it.

There is no ignorance:
During any emergency scenario, being able to think on your feet is going to decide whether or not you will be found crushed in a collapsed Burger King. In a practical sense, our hero has to understand many things in order to get a job done. Technical knowledge aside, a good sound man needs to stay personable around important individuals (clients) and utilize keen intuition in order to ensure  that strong winds don’t send Cheap Trick soaring through the mesosphere. This intuition will  be important for when the extra-terrestrials arrive. Eventually, Jeff Goldblum will find the code hidden within our own satellites. A sound man will know to RUN AWAY when massive city-sized space ships position themselves over our countries prominent structures. They aren’t there to say hello.

There are no passions:
Sound men naturally remain in solitude. Whatever emotional ties he has are simple. The countless hours spent alone on the road solidify his soul, and renders these emotional bonds brittle. A sound man must be able to break these ties in order to ensure survival. It is only a matter of time until the dead rise to infect the living, rendering ones friends and family susceptible to infection. The ravenous living dead hunger flesh and will seek out the living for sustenance. When the time comes that a loved one is bitten, logic must rise beyond emotional ties. The survival of your group depends on whether or not you have the ability to dispatch these unfortunate souls before they inevitably change and turn your hideout into Jackson Pollock meat art. The sound man can, and will, dispatch these individuals; and how loud they broadcast Rush Limbaugh during normal shop hours will most certainly reflect their amusement in doing so.

There is no chaos:
This may perhaps be a strange statement to some. Chaos is all around us. The very foundation of sound man’s livelihood is based on entropy. Anyone who has ever been in H.A.S.’s warehouse knows that there is always chaos (usually in the form of arguing where to go for lunch). One of the most important traits of a sound man, however, is the ability to look at this chaos, make sense of it, and embrace it . Many believe that on December 21st, 2012, the world will collapse upon itself, ejecting humanity into a perpetual chaos of earthquakes, tsunamis, and religious fanatics. Right in the middle of this sweaty orgy of mother nature, will be our hero: smoking a Marlboro, drinking a Mountain Dew, and probably complaining about how hot it is or making lewd comments about the current state of their pelvic region.

There is the Force:
If you are reading this and are more of the enlightened sort, then you may have realized that these natural traits a sound man wields are the same traits written in the Jedi Code. Coincidence? Perhaps. But riddle me this: Who wouldn’t want a Jedi on their side during the apocalypse? I suppose this also means that lighting guys are like the Sith… which admittedly makes a lot of sense.