It may be a smidge overdue but I need to make a point – living off the grid is not the same as preparing for doomsday. I am not a doomsday prepper (DP). I mean, I would like to think that Doomsday would be much more pleasantly experienced out here than in the city but that is not and never was the reason for moving to the country.
And, anyway, those DP folks seem to miss the point of Doomsday. You don’t ‘get through’ Doomsday. If it is Doomsday then by definition one is doomed. Like a dead polly, ya know?
Anyway, people come to visit. They ask questions. They ask about our lifestyle. Some of them ask odd questions. But it is all very nice and makes for good conversation. Lately, however, I have noticed that there is an implied ‘survivalist’ label hung on us. “So, ya got that alternative energy thing happening, eh? Figure to ride it out, eh?”
“Yeah…………………..ride what out?”
“You know………end of days…..Mayan calendar……TEOLAWKI (the end of life as we know it)…..so……….what kind of firepower you sportin’, sport?”
“Uh, we don’t have firepower. Not really. An old shotgun somewhere. Don’t really need anything. Not really. I mean, for the savage psycho hordes to get to us means they have to spend a lot of money on fuel and get a boat, then drive around a lot and what are they gonna get, eh? Our tomatoes? Our ‘bag’ wine? We’re too much trouble for your basic urban zombie psycho crowd I think”.
“Yeah, I guess. Still, I recommend you pick yourself up a few tactical assault rifles. Ya never know.”
“Hmmm……maybe I will…………..you got any?”
“Oh yeah. Armed to the teeth, I am. Got a gazillion rounds, too. Take the whole Muslim nation to get to me.”
“I thought you lived in a condo unit in the city?”
“I do. But, man, we are ready! They gotta get past the security at the parking lot first. Then, we’d have the elevators shut down and so they’d have to climb the stairs. Man, it’d be like pickin’ off pigeons. They wouldn’t have a chance!”
“Well, that’s true. I’m sure. But do you have enough food? What about water? Got an axe with which to chop some wood? Gotta fireplace? Like……if you really think it is all gonna implode, shouldn’t you get out of the condo?”
“Are you kiddin’, man? Ya get out of the condo market and like, you can never get back in.”
“Yeah. Good thinkin’. But, like, wouldn’t condo prices be lower after the doom…..has fallen………..down……on everyone………like, ya know?”
“Whatever,man. All I know is that I am prepared. Like, for anything. Even got a ‘bug-out!’
“What’s a bug-out?”
“The vehicle you need to escape with, dude. And ya need a ‘bug-out pack’. That’s the survival gear ya bug out with. You gotta do some research, man!”
“Sheesh. What’s your bug-out vehicle? What’s in your bug-out pack?”
“My Prius, man. Think about it. Complete stealth, eh? No one would guess I was buggin’ out in a baby blue Prius, eh? And my pack has a pile of granola and energy bars, Gatorade for the electrolytes, flashlights for the actual light and, of course, my wind-up radio and a first aid kit. ‘Course, I’ll be packin’ heat and lots of rounds when I bug out, too. Should be good.”
“Yeah. I guess. Thanks for the heads up.”
“No problem man. When the doom hits the fan, I am buggin’ out and like, don’t worry, man. I’ll get up here. I’ll make it. Bring ya a rifle, too. Don’t worry about a thing!”
Oddly, I am not worried. Not a bit. Not even about my bugged-out friend. I don’t think there’s too much to worry about, really. You see, I get the concept. Should the time come and doom comes to a neighbourhood near me, I will respond appropriately and do the right thing. I plan to expire. Call me crazy.