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Just got a coffee at the nearby McDonalds this morning and while I was waiting I overhead 5 early-stage boomers chatting about how society was falling apart and how they would survive it. One of them remarked, "You're lucky Clayton, being a single guy, you wouldn't have to worry about taking care of a wife or kids. . . or in-laws". Clayton replies, "like you guys would bother saving your mother in-laws? <group laughs> Clayton: White Male, ~59yrs, 5'9", 220lbs Clayton saw the writing on the wall. Things in America were getting worse, not better. After a "thug" was allowed to run the country for 8 years, Clayton started seriously prepping. Stockpiling canned and dry goods, ammunition and fuel, buying two gas generators, getting a remote cabin in the bush, having a well stocked first aid kit, he was seriously getting ready for the end. When the country's elected saviour was ousted after less than a term, he knew the end was near. Clayton had started a serious garden of all of the food staples he figured he would need to live the rest of his life on. He started learning about living off the land, and even invested in some solar panels, a home wind turbine, and a giant bank of batteries. The two years leading up to the fall of society he had amassed what he figured was a 10+ year supply of firewood to get him through the long winters. A friend of his worked at a scrapyard and gave him a good deal on 1/2" sheet metal which he used to fortify his cabin to be bulletproof. Clayton figured in his later years the wood might be too difficult to cut and carry, so he invested in three 1000 gallon propane tanks, a propane generator, stove, fridge, and even propane lights for his cabin. He rented a small bobcat to dig a hole and make a berm to protect the 3 propane tanks from attackers and to also bury the gasoline generators so that the sound of their motors wouldn't attract unwanted attention. Tuesday, November 4th, 2020 was the day of reckoning. A Jew was elected to be President of the United States. Clayton prided himself on being a devout Christian, and knew that this was the sign that everything was ending (Joshua 1:8). He loaded up his pickup truck and made the 3 hour journey to his cabin. After leaving the main road and then leaving the side road, Clayton deployed the spike belts and fell trees across the old logging trail to his cabin to deter anyone from following. Upon arriving at his cabin he hid his pickup under the camo netting he picked up from the army surplus store and readied himself for the inevitable hordes who would seek him out to steal his carefully prepared supplies and take over his cabin. Clayton figured that the first year would be the hardest fought, with people fanning out from the city to avoid the gangs and to seek out food after the supermarkets stocks had run dry. After that, most people would have probably died off, and the ability for the survivors to travel far would be seriously hindered by the lack of functional vehicles. For the next week Clayton busied himself with inventory, working on his hidden garden, and maintaining the various traps and alarms that surrounded his property. Clayton intentionally cut himself off from the news of the outside world. He had destroyed his cell phone the night after the election, and intentionally made sure there were no electronic devices with which someone would triangulate their location and track him down. No radios, no phones, not even a portable DVD player to watch movies. His only entertainment was his substantial collection of Clive Cussler and James Wesley Rawles books, which he looked forward to reading in his evenings. Before supper every night Clayton would do a perimeter check of his traps and warning devices. He had an extensive system of tripwires and noisemakers surrounding his property. From the areas that were most likely to see traffic he even created pitfalls with sharpened sticks at the bottom which he would occasionally re-apply his own feces to, so that anyone who didn't outright die during impalement would eventually succumb to a nasty infection. After supper Clayton would check his various firearms, lock up the cabin, and fall asleep, knowing that his life had been saved due to his hard work and planning. Before drifting off the sleep, Clayton would eye the cedar hope chest in the corner of his bedroom. It was full of various women's clothes and toiletries that he would need should a damsel in distress come seeking help. Most of it was day to day clothes, but he also made sure to include a decent variety of various women's "nightwear" which he was sure would come in handy when she wanted to show her appreciation for Clayton saving her. He had some trouble figuring out the sizing, but some internet searching informed him that the kind of women he would most likely save would be 38-28-39". Most of the bras were 32F, but there were some 34 DDs thrown in there, should he have to settle. Tucked away in the bottom corner was a bottle of Zeuterin, so that they could avoid any problems down the road. "I'll just tell her they're vitamin shots", Clayton through to himself as he drifted off to sleep imagining the rescue scenario of him shooting several "urban" youths with his vintage M-14 as they pursue her. Even though he had pictured the scenario in his head hundreds of time, it still made him smile. <Clayton died 4 years ago after his diabetes medicine ran out and his toes became infected due to poor circulation. He died of septic shock>
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Dec 15, 2019 20:22
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| # ¿ Apr 29, 2024 18:01 |
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Arrhythmia posted:ITT we are is the easiest loving thread format and you hosed it up OP I'm role-playing Clayton. <dies while cleaning his "unloaded" gun>
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Dec 15, 2019 20:47
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1st_Panzer_Div. posted:*dies of flu* <Tries to treat the flu with penacilin> *dies of flu*
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Dec 15, 2019 20:51
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My name is Eric. I've been watching the coverage of the state of our planet. I've been immersing myself in the journals saying we're hosed as a species. I have a plan. I've been watching "Survivor Man" and the place he seemed to live the easiest in was the tropical island in the South Pacific. I've been doing some research, and have settled on a small island off the coast of the Indonesian mainland. If my calculations are correct, rising sea levels will leave me with enough land to survive, and I think the latitude will allow the ecosystem there to ride out the worst parts of the upcoming climate change catastrophe. I've already booked a ticket to Soekarno-Hatta International Airport, and I figure the money I saved up maxing out my credit cards and taking out a loan will be enough to get the necessary supplies and myself to the island. Personal Journal Entries: Day 1: "I'm on my way, had a layover in Hong Kong. Looking around this place proves that I'm making the right decision. Society is going to collapse, and the further away from other people I can get, the better. It's going to make Mad Max look like a weekend camping trip." Day 2: "I've arrived in Soekarno-Hatta International Airport, and a cabbie is taking me to a hotel. I'm bushed. Figure I'll need a week to acclimatize and get my stuff ready for the trip to Moromaho Island where I will establish myself. " Day 4: "Have a nasty case of travelers diarrhea, going to rest another day or two." Day 5: "Feeling better and ran into some fellow expats. Going to hit the bar, get the lay of the land, and start prepping next week". Day 7: "The price of the supplies I'm going to need is miniscule. I brought way too much cash, so I figure I'll burn a little bit of it off and enjoy the trappings of civilization for a little longer." Day 8: "One of the expats took me to a red light district. Had a blast. I got to say, these ladies know how to make a man feel great." Day 15: "I've burned through about 1/4 of the 80k USD I brought with me. I'm pretty sure I was doing coke last night. And the night before that. There is this one girl at the massage place who I really "clicked" with. The more I think of my island life, the more I think it would be better to have some companionship. Also having someone who speaks the language would improve my chances of survival." Day 35: "Amisha really "gets me". We've seen each other every night for the past two weeks. I think I'm in love. I mentioned the plan to her, but she keeps telling me that there is plenty of time for that, and that we should enjoy what Indonesia has to offer a little longer. I am positive that life with me on an idyllic tropical island will be much better than working in a brothel." Day 40: "I have a rash around my "bathing-suit area". It's really itchy, and Amisha took me to a small clinic where the doctor gave me a shot of Penicillin. It was $2000 USD for the shot, which seemed pretty steep given how cheap most things are around this part of the city. The doctor was a friend of hers, so I can't imagine how much everyone else has to pay without connections like this." Day 50: "I'm down to my last $10k. I told Amisha that I have to buy my supplies, arrange transport, and leave in the next three days. She said that she will help arrange things, but first we should go to a temple tomorrow and leave an offering for good luck." Day 51: "The safe in my hotel room is gone. It was ripped out of the wall. Amisha said she will get the police, but that was two hours ago and she is not answering her phone. Day 53: "I'm waiting for my connecting flight to Houston. Mom and Dad were just happy to know that I was still alive, and wired me the money to get home. I learned a lot, and the next time I won't make the same mistakes." Day 1825: "My SSgt says that this re-signing bonus plus my increased rank will go a long ways to getting my debt in order. Little does he know that I've already booked a flight to Hong Kong."
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Dec 15, 2019 21:39
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Gutter Phoenix posted:There is a single season of Doomsday Preppers on netflix. That would give any normal person an "I'm going to get murdered in the woods" vibe. Even with a film crew present.
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Dec 15, 2019 23:34
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Brute Hole Force posted:Irradiated barbarians making GBS threads in the air intake pipe until the survivalist family suffocates in their well stocked underground bunker in a miasma of dog food farts and the fumes of contaminated water diarrhea. Username/Avatar/Post = mega-combo.
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Dec 16, 2019 00:13
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Is killed in a standoff with police after reports of a deranged man with a gun roaming a national park are phoned in by tourists.
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Dec 16, 2019 06:11
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<hasn't been to the bugout cabin since the 2017 election (Trump won't let anything bad happen during his time in office) so no rush> <Trump is impeached, Dems take power> <over 1/50th of the Democrats are people of colour (sign of the end of days)> <rushes out to bugout cabin with some fresh supplies> <starts dusting and cleaning, beating out blankets and clothes, sweeping floors, cleaning windows, removing cobwebs, etc.> <drat mice have been busy in here, they ate all the poison years ago, so there was nothing left to kill the newer batches> <mice crap everywhere, stupid little buggers. Wish I had a vacuum cleaner here, oh well, just keep sweeping and dusting> <should have brought a mask, this dust is burning my nose and throat> . . . <three weeks later> <succumbs to hantavirus>
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Dec 16, 2019 19:19
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Jay_Zombie posted:*Accidentally locks self out of abandoned missile silo turned survival bunker* <notices that the lights in abandoned missile silo turned survival bunker are flickering, then dimming, like there is a brown-out> <goes down to bottom level to check on generator> <pulls cap off of sparkplug to check for corrosion> <entire floor goes totally dark> <turns on flashlight> <sparkplug seems fine, puts cover back on and pulls cord to restart the generator> <generator sputters, doesn't start> <pulls cord again> <generator doesn't even sputter> <pulls cord again> <generator turns over, sputters, catches for a second, then dies again> <pulls cord again> <no response> <turns flashlight towards the elevator stumbles over to the door> <pushes button> <elevator doesn't work, no power!> <gently caress!!!!! The elevator is the only way up as the access ladder has a padlocked grate on each level, and the keys are upstairs, I'm trapped!> <pulls the generator cord thousands of times over the next two days until hands are gnarled, blistered, and barely functional> <drinks from a jug of antifreeze out of desperation for water> <throws up> <dies of dehydration> . . . . 7 years later a building inspector hired by the municipality to assess a property in arrears makes a grisly discovery.
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Dec 16, 2019 19:54
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old beast lunatic posted:In this completely hypothetical situation the suicide pistol is for when society brakes down to the point of video games, porn and booze being hard to come by. In this scenario of yours, everyone in Utah is already dead.
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Dec 16, 2019 20:15
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| # ¿ Apr 29, 2024 18:01 |
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Telebite posted:lets git our guns and steal all the other peoples mres <Mia Spackman briefly stops walking across the Costco parking lot and listens for what she thought was the sounds of gunfire off in the distance> <after hearing nothing, Mia shrugs her shoulders, and then goes into the store to pick up a meat and cheese tray for the HOA meeting tonight> ***8 miles away*** <there's no more return fire, "I must have hit Sally Turner with that last shot"> <kicks down the back door to the cabin to find the entire Turner family dead (Richard, Sally, and their three kids) all dead> <surveys the surroundings, no more movement> <with the entire Turner family dead, their week and a half supply of Chinese MREs now belongs to the Hendersons. . . wait!> <frantically calls out the names of the raiding party (the family) . . . no response> <walks outside to see that he was the only one to make it> <"oh well, I guess the MREs will last a lot longer than we expected"> <feels a warm, wet sensation in his right boot. . . looks down to see blood gushing from a wound in his abdomen> <loses consciousness and bleeds out 15 minutes later> <about the same time, Mia Spackman walks out of the Costco with the meat and cheese tray, and a guilty feeling as she is on a diet but still picked up a tray of Double-Chocolate muffins>
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Dec 16, 2019 20:37
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