Boys aren't made of all things sour

[suburbansig]

So you want to bare my children? And after the apocalypse you see us moving high in the hills to avoid the cultish mutated masses? building a log cabin near a fresh clean river, and teaching the next generation of man to fear technology? And as we grow older, and stricken with what used to be easily cured diseases, we sit on the wooden front porch, in our aging wooden rocking chairs hand made for us by one of our daughters.. stella, and we both draw our last breaths as the sun sets, our hands still stay embracing eachother?

Yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes... if only.