Ebola Is In America Now. So Yeah. Fuck This, I'm Moving To Canada


The more you hear about Ebola, the more it sounds like something conjured in a Guillermo Del Toro adaptation of a Cormac McCarthy novel. It's so antagonistic and the effect it has on the body is so grotesque that it's almost cinematic. It, to be plain, fucks people the fuck up worse than the most fucked up fucked up disease has ever fucked people up. Basically, it's the disease version of Les Grossman.


Naturally, this cinematic-ass disease has made its way to Dallas, which means Jerry Jones is 36 hours away from signing it to a 10-day contract. And, if it's true to the script laid by equally cinematic afflictions in The Stand, 28 Days Later, I Am Legend, World War Z, The Planet of the Apes, Contagion, and The Strain, we have maybe an hour before Gwyneth Paltrow dies, a week before we're all quarantined, two weeks before Brad Pitt attempts to save us with AIDS, a month before Naomi Harris chops off our forearms, and three years before an awkwardly bearded Gary Oldman starts a war with a group of apes who are surprisingly good at civil engineering and making quiche.

In the meantime, we're all going to die. And since we're all going to die very soon, I've complied a list of things I'm going to attempt to do in the week we have left on Earth before Ebola or the flesh-eating zombies created by a "cure" for Ebola kills us.

Take my wife to a vineyard

Because she's been wanting to go for at least a year now. And because in this hypothetical apocalypse I've created, the zombies are afraid of wine. (These are some bitch-ass non-Bougie zombies, apparently)

Learn how to crochet

If I do survive this shit, I figure the electricity will be down for a couple decades, so a Black guy who can make quilts and blankets should be pretty useful.


Learn how to heel-toe

No one is worse at doing anything that I am at learning how to do the heel-toe. Seriously, I've been trying off and on for almost 20 years now, and the best I can do is some midwestern hybrid of the Carlton dance and my dad stepping on his corns.


Make a mixtape of Big Sean songs, and listen to the entire thing

Is only on my bucket list because I know it's on absolutely no one else's

Go to Canada

Because even Ebola can't make it across the Peace Bridge without a passport.

Damon Young is the editor-in-chief of VSB, a contributing opinion writer for The New York Times, and the author of What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Blacker (Ecco/HarperCollins)



I am not worried. Our medical and physical infrastructure is a bit more developed than Liberia's. That makes a big difference.

Plus it is my birthday. So: