Well, fellow Americans, we’re finally here: The almost end of the primaries; the last, excruciating yard; the final stretch before the general election when our president is chosen, and we must live with the consequences of our decisions for better or, more likely, worse. And after a primary race that has felt like 10 months of pulling out our own teeth with rusty pliers and only bathtub gin to numb the pain, we are left with two probable choices: Donald J. Trump or Hillary Rodham Clinton.
God save us.
We asked for this. America sowed spite and arrogance, and it will reap the same. Excepting divine intervention, extinction by meteor or an open convention that doesn’t end in mass riots, one of these two candidates is going to be our next president. So ask yourself now: Do I have an escape plan?
If you haven’t thought about this thoroughly, your gut response might be “Of course I do. I live X miles from the Canadian border. On Nov. 9, I’ll just pack my earthly possessions, burn my ‘Christie 2016’ shirt and head up to “The Great White North”.
You would not be alone. Google searches for “how to move to Canada” spiked 1500% after Clinton and Trump won big on Super Tuesday. Fleeing north has always been the default threat in the event of a despised candidate winning the election.
But before you join the mass migration to a country still formally ruled by Queen Elizabeth II, pause for a moment and consider whether you want to live in a federal monarchy with questionable freedom of expression and a prime minister who has a monopoly on smug catch phrases.
If the answer is “no, god, no” perhaps it’s time to reconsider your options.
Option 1: Start a settlement in rural Alaska
If it’s the cold weather and abundant wildlife that draw you to Canada, Alaska is a perfect, all-American alternative. It’s 663,300 square miles of mostly wilderness, and what are the chances that anyone would find you and force you to obey federal laws if you happened to disappear in the dense forests of central Alaska? It’s a perfect place to set up camp and become the absolute libertarian you would be now if you didn’t need paved roads. You’d learn to enjoy the three months of constant daylight you have before being plunged into soul-crushing but ultimately character-building darkness for the remainder of the year. You’d learn to catch rabbits with your bare hands. You’d grow a full beard. You’d probably start smoking pipe tobacco because you’ve always thought that would be really cool.
Who you want on your team:
Woodworkers, fly fishermen, R.E.I sales associates who will let you use their employee discounts, people who own guns and have taken hunter safety classes.
Best-case scenario:
Mostly thanks to dumb luck and the fly fishermen, the camp flourishes, becoming a successful community under the leadership and guidance of a man everyone just calls “Hank” who comes out of his hut twice a month to mutter something about “the weather turning.” You never see a television or an iPhone again, and instead spend your free time drinking homemade wine and rereading the one Patrick McManus book you thought to bring.
Worst-case scenario:
Your camp is attacked by bears and your only survival training was watching The Revenant while partially intoxicated. While attempting to flee, you fall into a badger hole. You didn’t even know badgers lived in holes. You’re promptly killed by either the bear or the badger; you can’t tell which because it’s 2 p.m. in December and therefore pitch black.
Option 2: Join the movement to secede Texas.
This escape plan, obviously, requires you to move to Texas, but why wouldn’t you want to do that?
Texas could likely survive outside the Union. It has access to the Gulf of Mexico, renewable energy resources and an abundant agricultural economy. Gov. Rick Perry threatened a Texas secession in 2009 if “Washington continues to thumb [its] nose at the American people.” In 2013, 125,000 people signed a petition asking President Obama to allow Texas to peacefully secede. If that was the sentiment then, it’s aggressively more so now that we’re staring down the barrel of a Trump or Hillary presidency. If it’s Hillary, she might put up a fight, but Trump likely isn’t going to the mat for a state that chose Cruz over him. It’s difficult to imagine a state where it would be easier to put together a viable militia than Texas.
Who you want on your team:
Texans, Rick Perry, people who own guns and have taken hunter safety courses.
Best-case scenario:
No one cares Texas is seceding because they’re busy worrying about the plunging economy, widespread unrest, latest disease epidemic, etc. Texas flourishes. You buy a ranch home in the boonies and live out your life in relative comfort, avoiding talk radio and the Internet.
Worst-case scenario:
Remember the Alamo?
Option 3: Stay right where you are and wait it out.
Fight against corruption, argue against idiocy, and call out dishonesty and hypocrisy. After all, the probability of Trump quickly becoming bored with being commander-in-chief and quitting to start a line of “presidential” sleepwear is so high, he might announce his resignation at the Inaugural ball. Hillary is currently being investigated by the FBI, and if I remember correctly, that didn’t work out well for Nixon. America has survived many bad presidents. We will make it through a Hillary or Trump presidency, albeit not entirely sober, or we will die our own masters, fighting the good fight.
Brooke A. Rogers is a contributor to Heat Street.
