I ran across a personality test with this question: “You would consider it exciting if the apocalypse happened — true or false?” I weighed the options and had to admit to myself that, aside from all the guts and black stuff and after all the screaming quieted down, post-apocalyptic America would be the perfect place to evaluate one’s cache of survival skills and feral instincts. I answered “true.” Don’t you think you’d look cool blackened by grease and apocalypse dirt, wearing sunglasses and a bandanna and holding a machine gun? Come on! “Red Dawn”, a term that for me has come to mean any end-of-times scenario, would be totally fun.
I had an argument with a neighborhood dweller about the validity of neighbor helping neighbor if the end of the world happened. I argued that it isn’t community that one needs, but the opposite. He thought they’d share food and commune; I thought they’d be clawing over your fence to eat your dog when their food ran out.
I’ve only lived in a neighborhood once, and only for a year, but I recall not really liking my neighbors, and certainly not trusting them with my well-being. Take your loved ones and get the hell out of dodge like Patrick Swayze. Live off the land if it’s not damaged by the fallout and build a cool fence made out of staked logs. Impale trespassers. Create your own flag. Excuse me while I Pandora “A Country Boy Can Survive.”
When Cap’n Trips killed everyone but a handful of goodies and a handful of baddies in “The Stand”, the bad guys took over Vegas. Vegas has major generators to keep things going during power outages. Store that in your Red Dawn folder.
Now, if the Earth is inhabited by zombies or radiating melty glow humans, think guns and pickaxes. Community might be helpful here. There is going to be a standoff — and that’s where the fun comes in in this scenario.
First aid, guns, ammo, a local herb book, a can opener, water filters, tools, bandanna, diesel generator and solar equipment.
Bleach will kill junk in the water, and in turn the junk will kill the bleach. When you can’t smell the bleach anymore, it’s safe to drink. You are welcome; I just saved your life.
This survival stuff is all well and good unless it’s the Rapture. I’m pretty sure the J man will pass up the Jew, so I won’t be joining the ranks … but who knows? Maybe he’s over that whole nailing-him-to-a-giant-T thing. I mean, it’s been a while, Jesus. People grow. Just in case he IS cool with it, I am going to take a cue from the Mormons and stock my pantry with a shit-ton of canned food. And since it’s that late in the game, and now there is proof that not eating it did any good, my pantry will mostly be full of canned ham. I have years of pork eating to make up for before the zombies get me.