December 2012 is about to descend upon us with its holiday merriment and, from what I've heard, the End of the World. Whether you believe the Believers or the Scientists, this is the perfect opportunity to ask other people to help you build your survival arsenal!
This year when friends and relatives ask what you would like for Chanukah, Solstice, Christmas, Kwanza, tell them you would like something that will help you save mankind.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Yeah...We should go now...
Back in May of 2011 I wrote Should I Stay or Should I Go Now? about how to fortify your home. If you haven't read it, please do. I'll wait...
Back? Okay, good.
If for some reason your home cannot be made into a fortress at a moment's notice (with a little prepping, of course) or with all the notice in the world, what will you do? Defending all the possible points of entry might be more taxing (and dangerous) than packing up and jumping ship.
But where to go?
Back? Okay, good.
If for some reason your home cannot be made into a fortress at a moment's notice (with a little prepping, of course) or with all the notice in the world, what will you do? Defending all the possible points of entry might be more taxing (and dangerous) than packing up and jumping ship.
But where to go?
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Flash Fiction: Mesquite
Jackie opened and closed cabinets. She peered into the oven. She shifted papers on the kitchen table. “Baby?” she called out. “Baby, I don’t know what I’m gonna do here.” She looked underneath a pot holder.
“What’s the problem?” He leaned on the door frame. He crossed his sweat and grime coated arms in front of his chest. The doorjamb tried to lean away from him. “And don’t fucking call me baby. I’m fucking tired of that gooey shit.” One of his arms slipped away and rested on his gut.
“I can’t find the new jar of Jamaican jerk spices I got the other day. I’m having a barbecue this weekend and I was going to use it on some of the meat.” Jackie opened a cabinet over the sink and stared at the jumble of cups, mugs, coffee filters, and discarded brik-a-brak that had never made its way to the trash. She picked up a chipped bluebird gazed at it for a moment, then returned it to the shelf. “Ba--. Jimmy, do you know where it is?” The top shelf, above her reach without a stool, was littered with stolen salt and pepper shakers.
“What’s the problem?” He leaned on the door frame. He crossed his sweat and grime coated arms in front of his chest. The doorjamb tried to lean away from him. “And don’t fucking call me baby. I’m fucking tired of that gooey shit.” One of his arms slipped away and rested on his gut.
“I can’t find the new jar of Jamaican jerk spices I got the other day. I’m having a barbecue this weekend and I was going to use it on some of the meat.” Jackie opened a cabinet over the sink and stared at the jumble of cups, mugs, coffee filters, and discarded brik-a-brak that had never made its way to the trash. She picked up a chipped bluebird gazed at it for a moment, then returned it to the shelf. “Ba--. Jimmy, do you know where it is?” The top shelf, above her reach without a stool, was littered with stolen salt and pepper shakers.
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