Time to put up or shut up....

There comes a time in all men’s lives where they have to make some sort of choice. Either we are sheep or we are the shepherds. Either we lead or we get out of the way. It has come time for me to either put up or shut up.

 

I’ve spoken in detail on how I feel that dramatic measures need to be taken to ensure our survival as a species. According to Merriam-Websters definition of survival, it means the continuation of life or existence. Maybe you could make an argument that since I was in the Marines for a few years I have all the training in the area of surviving I need. Not true. I'm a life long learner and there is a lot more knowledge I need to attain in the art of surviving. Preparing for the end of man is an in depth process that involves many facets of modern day society.

 

In case you didn't read the new poll posted on treehugger.com, not making this up, 1 in 3 kids aged 6-11 fear some sort of apocalyptic end of the world as we know it. They may also be starting to prepare for the future and think like me, that our planet will not be here when they or I for that matter grow up. 

There are an abundance of questions that need to be answered before one can embark on creating their own storage of supplies. Such questions that need an answer are how to prepare food for long term storage. What kind of food can we store? Do I need to create an area underground for this particular type of storage? How much? What about a power source? Running water? There’s a lot that goes into this and these are serious questions that need to be answered seriously.

 

This past weekend I went to visit a Survival Camp. Yes, one of those camps where people think the end of the world is eminent. I was pushed into going by a friend from elementary school. The camp was set in the deep woods of the Carolina ’s. I can’t lie and say I had a hood covering my eyes to shield me from its secretive location. That would make this more interesting but I can’t lie about this.

 

We arrive on the camps locale during the early morning and as soon I arrive I am greeted by what I figured where the leaders. They seemed to be expecting me. They were dressed stereotypically in the old style camouflage fatigues and a black shirt that had the “preppers” club name on it. I am completely under dressed in shorts and a cheesy t-shirt with flip flops. They were no larger then I am in stature and I could tell they were sizing me up the moment I got out of my truck. Handshakes were given, pleasantries spoken and I was given a tour of the compound. Cool place. I actually liked being there and hanging out. It was almost like being back in the Marines.

 

People there all had jobs. I don't want one now and I do not want one when it all ends so I was kind of pissed that I may be expected to partake in the responsibilities of keeping this operation afloat. I thought we would just kind of exist and survive but apparently there will be a hierarchy. 

They had a food storage unit, a large box that was refrigerated and had locks all over it. I was immediately told I would have to start contributing to the food storage right off the bat. The coolest part of the compound I thought was the shooting range where many of the men and women, yes chicks, where hanging out shooting rifles and hand guns in various stances and positions. I was asked if I knew how to shoot. Come on, ME? How dare thy ask! Being a trained expert in marksmanship I looked at the guy like he had two heads. First shot 100 yards with a knock off version of an M16 in a standing position, bull’s eye, center mass. Impressive I am, I know.

 

We spend a couple of hours demonstrating some more weaponry skills. We get to talking about tactics, nothing major, just small group movement. More small talk and I’m starting to feel a little pressure to join the club. One thing I hate is pressure. Pressure to buy a car, pressure to perform well in job like setting or pressure to clean my room, whatever it is put on me to do something at a certain time I hate it. Any sort of this bullshit and I am out the door. 

I start looking around and realizing each person is on a strict time table with either a certain task or reading from a manual. I come to find out it’s the clubs by laws. If a person was not doing the assigned task they were given a verbal reprimand from one of the dudes in charge. I thought I could come join this club, hangout, drink beer, shoot guns and talk shit. Eventually if something really horrific happened then I could eat the cans of tuna I properly stocked up on. I would probably extend my existence for a few more weeks than the rest of you and I could relish in the fact I made it for the extra ten days or so. 

 

Over a few beers the pitch is made. Am I going to join or am I not. Well, apparently all my car shopping expertise has nothing to do negotiating with a few idiot marauders in the middle of the woods. They’re not liking my responses of, “Well, I want to talk this over with my wife and see what she thinks. The price seems right but I don’t know about the finance rate.”  Shit like this ain't flying. It's not working and this is going sour fast. The lead asshole stands up and says “This isn’t acceptable! You came to join and contribute. You know our location! What’s to stop you from coming out here in the middle of the night and stealing our weapons cache or food box?!” I said “I’m not gonna do that. I just want to go home. Rangers are on at 1:00 today.”

 

My friend from elementary school says “Joe, you can’t leave yet. He says stay, you have to stay!” I told him if they didn’t knock this shit off I was going to “pull a job like the ATF did on the Branch Davidians.” Still as much more resistance is being heaped upon me, I realize my only course of action. I stood up, kicked the fiery coals at the leader and smashed a bottle of my favorite brew across his forehead . He goes down like a sack of shit, I kick my “friend” as hard as I can, dead square in the chest, knock him down and run my ass off to my car. I can hear all the commotion behind me as if they are thinking of whether or not to chase after me or tend to their fallen comrades. 

 

I didn’t wait long enough to find out. I got in my car and hauled ass. Shortly after I make my get away I started hearing in my ears…”Joe, Joe, JOE!!! Get up the alarm didn’t go off! Get up your gonna be late!”