It’s been less than 48 hours since I first heard the results of the presidential election. But I have to be honest. It wasn’t a complete surprise. Ever since Mango Mussolini announced his intention to run for president, I’ve asked myself, “What would I do if the Bronze Baboon actually wins?” Preparing for the worst, I entertained dozens of ways to escape reality for the next four years, including Deep Sea Residency Programs, a Zen Monastery Retreat in the Himalayas, and Escaping to a Mushroom Mycelium Commune.
In the end, I whittled it down to two practical solutions: a medically induced coma or cryonics. Yes, they’re as extreme as they sound so let me walk you through how I arrived at these choices. If nothing else, it might help you with your own self-preservation from Velveeta Voldemort.
Medically-Induced Comas
The Ultimate “Do Not Disturb” Sign
Just for a second, imagine a peaceful four-year nap. No news. No political ads. Just pure, unadulterated unconsciousness. At least, that was the initial appeal of a medically induced coma. A high-tech way of checking out without actually, you know… checking out.
So, in theory, here’s how it works. Doctors pump potent sedatives into you to slow brain activity down to a trickle, effectively switching off your consciousness. It’s typically reserved for critical medical situations, like a traumatic brain injury, where they need to give it time to rest and repair. In my case, I’d just be borrowing medical technology to escape a different kind of mental injury: four years of Cheeto-in-Chief overload.
Now, don’t get me wrong. The idea sounds wonderful until you start thinking about the practicalities. For starters, I’d need an entire team of medical professionals around the clock to keep me alive while I’m “out.” I’d be tethered to dozens of machines in the ICU, with doctors checking my vitals every second of the day. And did I mention the price tag? At $5,000 to $10,000 per day, four years of medically-induced bliss could cost upwards of $14 million. A fortune for me, but peanuts for the Marmalade Madman.
And then there are the health risks. Comas aren’t like naps. My body would be completely inactive for four years, which means muscle atrophy, lung infections, blood clots, and bedsores. You get the picture. Plus, prolonged sedation can cause some freaky side effects, like memory loss, cognitive fog, and even hallucinations. I’d probably wake up looking and feeling like a ham sandwich left out in the rain. And then there’s the grim possibility that I just might not wake up at all! Sedation at this level is, shall we say, not foolproof.
But let’s be real. Even if I somehow scraped up the cash, no doctor would ever agree to this scheme. There isn’t a hospital in the country that would agree to put me into a coma just because I’m disillusioned with the Tangerine Tyrant. So, as far as realistic escape plans go, a medically induced coma was dead on arrival.
Cryonics
The Popsicle Preservation Plan
With the coma option off the table, I turned to Plan B: cryonics. Think about it. A cozy, frozen slumber for the next four years, safe from the Orange Menace and all the chaos he’s going to bring. When I finally thaw out, I hope I’d find a world where the political landscape was a little less… orange.
Cryonics sounds like something out of a sci-fi movie, and honestly, it kind of is. They’d cool me down to a bracing -320.8°F (-196°C) using liquid nitrogen, storing my body in a state of ice-cold suspended animation until some genius four years from now figures out a way to revive me. If he could. Theoretically, I’d go to sleep in 2024 and wake up when things are, let’s say, better. It’s like time travel, minus the DeLorean.
But here’s the catch. Freezing the human body isn’t as simple as tossing a bag of peas into the freezer. At those temperatures, ice crystals start to form inside the cells, which can permanently damage organs and tissue. At the present time, no technology exists that can repair the cellular damage caused by freezing. I’d be betting my life that some genius in the future would crack the “thaw-without-turning-into-mush” problem.
And then, of course, there’s the whole death thing. Legally, I’d have to be declared dead before they began the freezing process. Cryonics companies wouldn’t just freeze me for funsies. I’d also need to trust that whichever facility I chose would stay in business long enough to keep me on ice for the next four years. Imagine getting frozen, only to become a pool of defrosted yuck because the company went under.
And the price? Fuhgeddaboudit. The cost for whole-body preservation starts at $200,000. If I’m feeling thrifty, I could go for the brain-only package (neuropreservation) for around $28,000. Oh, and they charge annual maintenance fees, too, from $500 to $1,000 per year to make sure my body doesn’t, quite literally, get left out in the cold.
So, Where Does That Leave Me?
After serious consideration, here’s what I’ve concluded about my options for The Great Tangerine Escape. Theoretically, a medically induced Coma would be perfect for tuning out, but practically impossible to get. Hospitals won’t put you under for a four-year snooze unless it’s a life-or-death situation, even if it is a new Sir Lies-a-Lot administration. And even if they did, the health risks and costs would just be too high.
While Cryonics is technically available, the only way they’ll put you under is if you’re already legally dead. And even then, you’d be betting on the future to solve the very big problem of, well… defrosting human bodies. The price is steep, and there’s no guarantee I’d ever be thawed out unless someone accidentally found me while cleaning out the freezer.
In the end, I may have to accept that neither of these options is the magic bullet I was hoping for to live through the imminent Nectarine Napoleon years. Maybe a different approach is in order, like living in a cave, setting up a cozy little cabin in the woods, or joining an Amish community. Or, better yet, I could stockpile enough popcorn and watch the whole thing unfold from the comfort of my couch. After all, four years isn’t forever… right?
