COLUMN: Waterworld

We all owe Kevin Costner a HUGE apology.

Once upon a time, he was one of the most successful and popular actors on the planet. He wowed us in The Untouchables, thrilled us in No Way Out, and danced with wolves in, umm, Dances With Wolves (I presume. Never saw it.) With Bull Durham, he proved that old baseball players could still be loveable. With Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, he proved it was possible to do a worse British accent than Dick Van Dyke. And above all else, he became a friend to the Midwest with Field of Dreams, perhaps the only movie that's ever tried super hard to make Iowa seem like a cool place to live.

Then 1995 came along and it all went sideways. Kevin Costner accomplished an extraordinary feat of cinematic achievement: one of the most expensive and most terrible movies ever made. It was a production so epic that the director reportedly walked off, the cast spent most of the production nauseous, and the non-sensical plot is riddled with so many holes it's the Swiss cheese of cinema. BUT it does have a scene where flaming jet-skis fly through the air, which is admittedly pretty sweet.

The film is Waterworld, one of the most celebrated rotten tomatoes of movie-making.

But I get it now, Kevin. It's not a terrible movie. It's a handy guideline for Midwestern survival in 2019. We all scoffed at the notion of a future world underwater. Based on our recent weather patterns, I reckon that'll be happening, what, about a week from Tuesday? Waterworld isn't a bad movie. It's a manual for surviving life along the Mississippi.

Waterworld takes place in a post-apocalyptic dystopian future (aka a week from Tuesday) where the ice caps have melted and rising waters have wiped out life as we know it. Those with the fortitude, strength, and cool enough wardrobes to survive are left to float around on ramshackle armadas fighting each other presumably out of boredom. But hidden inside this gem of a movie are wise Kevin Costner's tips for survival.

I just watched Waterworld. Well, at least the first ten minutes. I'm pretty sure that's good enough to glean the knowledge Kevin Costner wants us to have in order to survive the Great Flood of 2019:

Waterworld Tip #1: Start hoarding dirt. In "Waterworld," dirt is currency. It's the most precious commodity. Henceforth, I am using this as justification to stop cleaning my house.

Waterworld Tip #2: If possible, grow gills and webbed feet. In the movie, Costner inexplicably has them, due to "evolution" or maybe his great-great-grandfather having an unspeakable tryst with a mackerel. Regardless, they seem to come in super handy, so let's get to work on evolving, people.

Waterworld Tip #3: Stay away from anyone who remotely looks like Dennis Hopper. This seems to be solid advice for all facets of life, flood or no flood.

Waterworld Tip #4: And this one's probably just for me and a few others: Learn to swim. It seems to be important. Of course, if I grew gills, I could just stroll along the river bottom, but swimming seems like a solid backup plan to spontaneous gill growth and first-hand knowledge of what lies on the river bed. Plus, breathing water sounds painful, and breathing Mississippi water sounds especially nasty. Sewers are backing up, people. My future gills have standards.

So far, my plan is to hope my basement holds up, be thankful I live on the other side of a reliable flood wall, and not worry unless I see animals start lining up 2-by-2 to get onboard any arks. But in that event, I offer a plea to any aspiring ark builders out there: This time, can we maybe skip the snakes and the wasps? Would anyone except maybe Alice Cooper really mind? I suppose it's not good karma to advocate for taxonomic genocide in times of crisis, but would there be any silver lining to this flood better than the elimination of stupid wasps?

When it comes to ark life, I suppose my real fear should be its capacity for humans. Hard cuts would have to be made, but I think I'd make this list.. After all, a new society would need important skilled inhabitants: doctors, politicians, cooks, tradespeople, and of course the guy who DJs the mad parties once electricity gets re-invented. Of course, this would mean I'd have to bring my music collection onboard, sooo... tough break, platypuses. Let's be honest, you guys were probably a mistake the last time around. Sorry for your extinction, but we need room for records in the new world.

The worst part about spring floods is that there's little we can do except wait it out, wade it out, and help everyone affected as best we can. In the meantime, you should totally NOT rent Waterworld. Sorry, Kevin. We appreciate your input, but the BEST advice is to save your money and instead use it in help or patronage of the many wonderful citizens and businesses in the thick of it. They need and deserve our support.