BSBFB

Just because there’s an apocalypse doesn’t mean you won’t want cable TV and a drum set. He’s probably eating beans straight out of a can for all his meals already. Why not do it underground? Sure, you could store more stuff down there to keep life and limb together if you ditched the drum kit and the surround sound, but a man has to have priorities. This man has his head screwed on straight.  There’s no way he could have any friends that aren’t on the internet, and so, imaginary in a technical sense. He only needs enough grub for himself. He can even skimp on toilet paper and there’s no one to notice.

There’s no reason to waste any space on more than a twin bed and a single chair. The chances of attracting a bird to his aboveground lair must be mighty slim. Attracting one to his underground James (Gold) Bond lair would be nearly impossible. There could be mushroom clouds rising left and right, and he could be standing at the top of his ladder, beckoning to the neighborhood girls to join him, but I suspect they’d all take a pass and stay above stairs with strontium raining down on them rather than head on down to the mancave. Here’s why: If you watch any home improvement show, you’d know that all women want contractors to tear out their perfectly serviceable bathrooms, and then install shiplapped boards, marble tile, and a claw foot tub in front of a giant picture window so they can bathe like Dita von Teese in a burlesque show. They will not, however, poop in an underground living room while you watch footie.