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For many people, holidays mean spending time with family members. Usually this is time spent playing games, making cookies, caroling, decorating, airing long-simmering grievances, engaging in drunken brawls, and possibly covering up homicides.

But Human Events Online has a series designed to help you use your holiday family time more productively: to prepare for the apocalypse. We join the program already in progress.

Preparing for the End of the World: Making Your Family Tough
by Skip Coryell

In the opening article of this series I painted the following picture:

Close your eyes and imagine a world without electricity: no Fox News,

Okay, so it’s got its good points.

no facebook, no email, no Blackberry, no cold drinks, no heat in the winter, no automobiles, no food and no way to cook it even if you had it.

Yes, without electricity, combustion engines don’t work, seeds refuse to grow and fire declines to work. So, take a minute to thank Reddi Kilowatt for all he does for you!

It’s the end of the world as we know it (TEOTWAWKI) and you and your family are going to die.

 
But on the plus side, you can skip the usual Christmas shopping this year, and you don’t have to worry about how Wikileaks has doomed America by revealing that our diplomats talk about other countries behind their backs.

Through all my research on preparing for societal collapse, I found a dearth of information on preparing the family’s mind and relationship for hard times. So that’s what I want to focus on today, because if your family doesn’t have the will to live, it won’t matter how much “stuff” you have stored in your basement. You’re going to die.

Let me be blunt: without the will to live, you and your family will be killed for the stuff in your basement by people who just want it more. You know, people like Skip.

Think of it in terms of self defense. You can be carrying the largest handgun in the world, but if you don’t have the balls to use it, then you’re going to die.

Yes, if you are starving to death because the lack of electricity has ended photosynthesis, if you don’t have the balls to shoot your neighbor with your large handgun so you can eat him, you’re going to die. It’s that simple.

In the Marine Corps I learned about teamwork, loyalty, and honor. I learned that if one team member is weak, the whole team suffers. Now, as a husband and father, I’ve learned that my family is a team; it has weak links, and it’s only as strong as its weakest team member. Those of you with family know this to be true.

This holiday season, determine who that weakest team member may be. It could be Grandma, since her reflexes aren’t what they used to be, and so she will be of little use as a sniper when it’s time to pick off Chinese invaders. Or it might be your spouse, whose ogling of that comely neighbor demonstrates that he or she posseses a frightening lack of family loyalty. But it’s probably your teenage son or daughter, since teens are notoriously annoying.

Surviving a societal collapse as a lone wolf will be nearly impossible. You’ll need people around you who are trustworthy and loyal and prepared. That’s where the family comes in. Think of yourselves as a military unit. Depending on your size, you could be a fire team or an entire squad. If you live near extended family, you could be talking about an entire platoon!

Start planning a secret second family or marry a few sister wives, and you might be in charge of an entire regiment!
 

The family, even in the best of times, can be an asset or a liability. I have two teenagers at home, and, as much as I love them, they can be a real pain in the butt!

I told you that Greg and Marsha were probably the weak links in your family!

I try to prepare them for hard times, but sometimes I just don’t know if they’re getting it. At times they seem spoiled, lacking in perspective and common sense. As a matter of routine, I give them an hour of chores per day. They complain, whine and moan as if they’re being marched off to the gallows.

So, I marched them off to the gallows. It was for the good of the platoon.

In today’s world, their undisciplined, disrespectful behavior is a nuisance that causes me stress. After societal collapse, their immaturity could well mean the death of a loved one. No, I’m not being overly dramatic. Today I ask them to wash the dishes, but after society collapses, I’ll hand them a gun and send them up on the roof as a sentry from midnight to 2AM. If they shirk their duty, the whole family could be slaughtered in its sleep.

Just something to think about when Wally does a crappy job doing the dishes.
 

Why am saying this? Because there are things you can be doing right now to prepare the minds of your spouse and kids.

The Chinese, evil though they may be, have excellent brain washing technology. While expensive, think of it as an investment in your future.

Anyway, Skip has a lot more to say on the subject, but let me leave you with one last tip:

In many cases, just getting on the same page in regards to preparing for societal collapse can improve your relationship. It takes a long time and a lot of hard work to make all the preparations necessary, but, after a while, you might even start having fun. Case in point, my wife and I once went on a date to a militia meeting. We had a good time and met a lot of nice people.

That’s right, fellows: a militia meeting makes a swell date! Any wife, sweetheart, or cute girl whom you want to impress will be thrilled to that you cared enough to take her to an Aryan Brotherhood meeting rather than the same old dinner and a movie. And it will help you to survive the end of the world, so it’s probably tax-deductible.

Well, that’s all the time we have for today, but keep preparing for the apocalypse, and be sure to wish everyone a Merry End of the World.

44 Responses to “Surviving the Holidays, Survivalist Style”

Preparing for the End of the World: Making Your Family Tough

I’m preparing by making my family soft – soft and tasty.

After societal collapse, their immaturity could well mean the death of a loved one.

…I know who I’m rooting for.

No electricity= no heat, no cooking?

Looks like someone gots themselves a Gold Medallion All Electric Home!

Jesus effing Christ. This jerk is actually ripping off S.M. Stirling’s Change Series (“Dies the Fire” and a load of sequels) in which aliens make electricity stop working, thus destroying civilization … and he thinks that a real social collapse would be like that? And that when it did he would shove his kids out on the front line?

Yet more proof that wingnut = sociopath.

Man, only a pussy has to define TEOTWAWKI. Probably exactly the sort of faux survivalist asshole who has stocked his shelter with boxes of dehydrated foods because he can’t imagine a world where potable water does not flow freely. The sort of asshole who has purchased a Non-Hybrid Seed Vault, as advertised by Glenn “Man of the Soil” Beck, that is–I swear I am not making this up–entirely airtight. The sort of asshole, even, who buys gold coins.

Seriously, you people call yourselves whackjobs? Do the survivalist thing up right–get a copy of what Mormons are supposed to have on hand, and cross out the religious crap, and you have your shelter checklist. Don’t think much of their Savior, but those people do good self-reliance.

These idiots give nutjobs a bad name. They make me want to throw a rock through their window (fine, an open window) that’s wrapped in a note suggesting Bill Clinton was really DB Cooper and Vince Foster Had Found Out.

TCM was kind enough to run “Night of the Living Dead” (1968) tonight, just in time to provide some hands-on tips for dealing with the concomitant zombie infestation. To wit:

Field Reporter: Chief, if I were surrounded by eight or ten of these things, would I stand a chance with them?

Sheriff McClelland: Well, there’s no problem. If you have a gun, shoot ‘em in the head. That’s a sure way to kill ‘em. If you don’t, get yourself a club or a torch. Beat ‘em or burn ‘em. They go up pretty easy.

And just for fun the deathless exchange that always puts me in stitches:

Field Reporter: Are they slow-moving, chief?

Sheriff McClelland: Yeah, they’re dead. They’re all messed up.

“After societal collapse, you must place your life in the hands of your children.”

As God as my witness, I first read that as “in the hands of your chicken”.

“A family is only as strong as its weakest team member”
I’ve reread this article twice, and still haven’t found the part saying that you *shouldn’t* kill your (eg.) disabled child because s/he’ll only slow the rest of you down.
Please say there was a bit like that at the end, and you left it off for comic purposes.
Please. I won’t be cross.

I refuse to trust zombie apocalypse movies. Is it really likely, at all, that with zombies infesting the cities and suburbs and busting into houses and converting the asleep into the undead in the middle of the night that there will never be zombies in PJs and mud masks? No naked zombies? No zombies in bondage gear? No zombies roaming the streets trailing CPAP machines, or uselessly gumming corrective dental wear? I demand verisimilitude. I demand zombies in teddy bear flap-and-footie pajamas. I insist on zombies converted in flagrante delicto, with strap-ons and cock rings and Batman costumes, on zombies caught raiding the fridge with last night’s meatloaf gravy mingling with their own blood down the front of their “Frankie Say Relax” nightshirts. I demand zombies in pink fucking curlers!

(And, yes, I’ve seen Zombie Strippers. Still, I demand more realism in my zombie movies.)

what, zombie furries get no love?

Yes, without electricity, combustion engines don’t work

he’s referring to the dystopia that limpballs has been warning against in which the chevy volt and their ilk have replaced all automobiles (insert drama sting)

Dammit, I knew I’d left something out. While we’re at it, I also want to see fabulously costumed Vegas-showgirl-style drag queen zombies. Let’s face it, ten pounds of faux crystal, six inch heels, a mermaid gown constructed entirely of sequins, and three feet of hair with a headdress that looks like a chandelier sprayed with extra glitter is gonna make you easy prey for zombies. Same goes for hazmat suits, actually.

It just seems like in the deliberate process of reducing humanity to a metaphor for inexorable, indistinguishable, purposeless plague, they all start out unconsciously with humanity that has been reduced to indistinguishable, purposeless mass. No one does movies about zombie corals, because polyps might as well be zombies to begin with. If you want to make us fear the loss of self that is zombiehood, you need to first show us the self that we know ourselves to be.

If Social Services hasn’t already taken this guy’s kids, they’re falling down on the job. But I have to ask myself, who else is going to plug up the barrel of his shotgun with wads of chewing gum?

You’ll need people around you who are trustworthy and loyal and prepared.

Only if those boy scouts bring their own flints and guns!

“A family is only as strong as its weakest team member”

But first, better define “weak”. the nerdy 98lb (or 300lb) teenager with glasses and acne may be the only one who knows how to make penicillin and bullets, or who really understands military tactics & strategy, even if s/he never leaves the bedroom.

I’m stocking up on antibiotics, pain meds, soap & detergent. And studying basic dentistry. Think they’ll kill off an otherwise useless platoon member who can fix an abscess? Ha.

I could be wrong, but I think Skip (“Mom! Why does our family squad have to have a General named ‘Skip’? All the other platoons in the neighborhood are laughing at us!”) has hitched his paranoid wagon to Frank Gaffney’s fantasy about Iran detonating a powerful EMP device over America, instantly rendering anything which uses or produces electricity (cars, generators, personal vibrating massagers) useless. Forever!

Why that would make agriculture and animal husbandry impossible is harder to figure, but those Iranians are crafty.

I’ve reread this article twice, and still haven’t found the part saying that you *shouldn’t* kill your (eg.) disabled child because s/he’ll only slow the rest of you down.

I don’t know, but it seems like rugged individualists such as Skip really believe that we’ve fallen far from the hardy race which tamed the Frontier, and become just a bunch of lazy, entitlement-grubbing parasites. But comes the apocalypse, there will be, to paraphrase Ninotchka, “fewer, but better Americans,” after the weak have been culled and the population reduced to a kernel of self-sufficient neo-pioneers. And Western Civilization will be the better for it.

Or they’ll accidentally lock themselves in their subterranean shelter during a drill and slowly starve to death after the can opener breaks.

I got as far as “start planning a secret second family or marry a few sister wives” before I spewed a White Russian into my keyboard. At least I had presence of mind to put aside my drink for the rest of Scott’s commentary.
You do realize how sticky Kaluha is & that it’s difficult to clean out of a keyboard don’t you Scott?

Gappy: I’m well acquainted with the adhesive qualities of the Dude’s drink of choice, but I can’t take credit for your drenched peripherals — this was written by s.z. (and for the record, it produced a similar effect with my coffee. At least licking White Russian off the keyboard is a bit more fun).

Noooooo springs! …You’ll be the first to die!

Or they’ll accidentally lock themselves in their subterranean shelter during a drill and slowly starve to death after the can opener breaks.

This, I think, is far more likely than the societal collapse in our lifetime that Skip envisions. And almost as entertaining.

Crap. That was my first White Russian too so I can’t claim inebriation for mistaking authors. Don’t know what I’ll do for an encore but thanks s.z. for your wicked wit….I will never mix alcohol with it henceforth.

Do the survivalist thing up right–get a copy of what Mormons are supposed to have on hand, and cross out the religious crap, and you have your shelter checklist. Don’t think much of their Savior, but those people do good self-reliance.

For myself and MY family, post TEOTWAWKI,
I plan on moving to Idaho or Utah, surrounding myself with Mormons. I will then devote my time to knocking on their doors. bwaaahaaahaa

Not much to be added in the fun-poking department here, even if my cold would allow the brain to work. This is the kind of screed that makes me want to see what the author looks like. Is he the grim Jack D. Ripper type? Is he a petulant DrMike-ish over-compensator? Is he one of Satan’s spawn? The little piccy of Skip on his profile page is kind of indeterminate, though he looks like he may consider himself quite the square-jawed Natural Leader, with just a dash of Hestonish charm, shaken not stirred.

Aroynt thee, Skip, aroynt thee.

I will then devote my time to knocking on their doors. bwaaahaaahaa

Wait, that’s Mormons, the Jehovah’s Witnesses? Fuck me, I didn’t know that (guess I never talked long enough with them). But thanks for the tip, I’ll use it:

“Really busy right now; look, can we continue this conversation at your place? What’s your address?”

Skip, your kids are younger, smarter, faster. And if you’ve done your job as a role model, they have learned more about you than you have learned about them. And remember, the harsh truths and survival imperatives you’ve imparted to them won’t be tempered by the wisdom of age or compassion, inasmuch as you’ve taught them that compassion is for suckers.

See Skip run. Run, Skip, run.

And on that note, I wanted to point out an article in the Scientific American about schadenfreude:

“It’s Better in Groups”

At first glance, it’s dully predictive of things we already know; but I think there’s more there than that. See if you have the same feeling.

d. sidhe’s posts make me feel like i’ve led a very boring life…i’ll volunteer for the front.

No one does movies about zombie corals, because polyps might as well be zombies to begin with.

I dunno, they seem kind of exciting, to hear Dr. Benchley tell it:

Random points brought on by improper medication.

I had a feeling he was going EMFer there. It’s the latest trend in conspiracy nutbar city. I suspect they like it because it will allow them to pick off stragglers who are still wandering around trying to get a signal, all Wrong Turn-like.

Polyp sex is indeed interesting, though not as interesting as barnacle sex. Because, *dude*. Hermaphrodites with penises longer than their bodies. Nonetheless, I maintain that as polyps are actually an indistinguishable mass, they lack the individuality that we think of as necessary to humanity, the personality that makes us something more than zombies. You could probably tell the former businessman from the former alt-rocker in their zombie state, but only by appearance. Zombiehood is about the reduction of all of that–the businessman’s illicit, champagne-flavored kiss of that hot pool secretary at the office party, the alt-rocker’s twist of shoulder when she sings certain lines–to a mindless, purposeless group semi-existence. If we didn’t believe we were more than that, we’d all kill ourselves, and zombiehood scares us with that, with the possibility that we are nothing more than meat, literally and emotionally.

And that’s something so frightening that we’ve invented personality and civilization to avoid believing it.

Whether a polyp is different from a zombie polyp probably depends on perspective–once a cordyceps fungus takes over an ant, the ant becomes a zombie ant, the other ants identify it as somehow not-ant and dispose of it if they can–but it’s not a human perspective.

It’s possible a fish that has evolved to look and behave exactly like a dead leaf has a rich inner life that justifies the extent to which it goes to be a live fish–to not simply *be* a dead leaf, in other words–but maybe not, and we can’t really know. It’s possible also that zombies have inner lives that distinguish them from meat, but we really can’t know that, either.

But we’re really only taking as assumption that other humans have personalities (and some humans, like Shelter Commander Skip make that sort of an iffy assumption) and part of how we understand that is by recognizing the way people signal that even when not displaying it actively: hairstyle, clothing, accessories, tools, body modifications.

If we’re stripped of the ways we passively signal these things, and then of the ways we actively assert them, we’re all just meat. Zombie apocalypse movies generally offer us a horde of something that we can’t empathetically connect with as humans anyway. So the only ones we connect with, the only ones that feed our deepest fears, are those we saw as human characters before we watched them become zombies.

That strikes me as both unrealistic, and as evasive storytelling.

Unless, of course, everybody else is afraid of zombie movies because they don’t like the thought of pain and being, you know, eaten, and I’m just way overthinking these things and should stop trying to discuss things with my hallucinations. Which, okay, is pretty likely.

Mormons and Jehovah’s Witnesses both knock on your door to tell you about God, as do some other Evangelicals. But Mormons are required to keep emergency supplies on hand to support themselves. They don’t dick around about it, and they are sensible in what to do and how to do it.

Or they’ll accidentally lock themselves in their subterranean shelter during a drill and slowly starve to death after the can opener breaks.

This makes me happy. But this is why the nutjobs are emphasizing home canning these days, plus most cans of Chef Boyardee (Eat it cold in an emergency, God knows you won’t touch it till then!) now have pop tops. I suspect because most Americans are capable of starving to death in their own kitchens if they lose their can opener. (Me, I’m carrying my emergency food supply around with me, and if I stop taking the synthroid, it’ll last me even longer.)

trashfire, I feel the same way about Doghouse’s writings.

I lost my heart at a beer-hall putsch.

And that’s something so frightening that we’ve invented personality and civilization to avoid believing it.

D, you’re magnificent. There’s no other word.

I just read through Skip’s piece again, and noticed a certain reticence to reference of his wife.

And I thus wonder if he is, like Gerard Van der Luen who writes similar survivalist fiction, an estranged father hastening the apocalypse in hopes that his “someday you’ll need me, just you wait” prophecy will come to pass.

Sad, really.

Animaniacs records the incident at the Algonquin where Wakko Warner lost his lunch– in Robert Benchley’s hat.

He deserved it.

D Sidhe writes: That strikes me as both unrealistic, and as evasive storytelling.

You and me both, kiddo.

As you may know, extraordinarily large doses of radiation are usually the culprit for the zombie movies of the sixties. And other movies, more than I could name.

Want to know more? You can find out more about this at your public librar– fuck that, you can find out more about this by buying the damn bible– “Better Living Through Bad Movies”.

Anyway, I’m struck by the sheer number of radiation-fueled movies– zombies, mutants, what-have-you. All of them danced around what was already known at the time:

Your hair falls out and then you die.

On the Beach (1959)

Single, alone, unique, I don’t know what else to say.

D: Zombie godfather George Romero always has some interesting zombies in with the rotting rabble. Clowns, football players, brides, nuns, hari krishnas, nurses, majorettes…

Chris: Mormons are the ones in the white dress shirts, dark slacks and nametags. Jehovah’s Witnesses usually wear “Sunday Best”… which I guess is Saturday Best in this case.

Thanks for that, Brian. Can’t tell the God-botherers without a scorecard–

I always say.

Oh, Chris, there are *lots* of words for me, but that you selected that one made my day, on a day that needed making. Thank you.

Close your eyes and imagine a world without electricity: no Fox News,

Okay, so it’s got its good points.

no facebook, no email, no Blackberry, no cold drinks, no heat in the winter, no automobiles, no food and no way to cook it even if you had it.

Still not seeing a real downside here…

It’s the end of the world as we know it (TEOTWAWKI) and you and your family are going to die.

Interestingly, a side codicil to the Mayan Calendar termination legend is the return of the dragon-god Teotwawki, or “He Who Kills Your LOLCats”

Through all my research on preparing for societal collapse, I found a dearth of information on preparing the family’s mind and relationship for hard times.

I can just see Skippy, the Dangeroo calling his wife and children to the den: “OK, so you know how it feels when you break a nail? Now mulitply that by a billion brazilian times! WOOOOOOOOOOOO-OOOOOOOOOOOO! Skarey stoff!¹”

(¹Channeling Eugene Levy on SCTV of course…)

You can be carrying the largest handgun in the world, but if you don’t have the balls to use it, then you’re going to die….

The family, even in the best of times, can be an asset or a liability. I have two teenagers at home, and, as much as I love them, they can be a real pain in the butt!

As my friends in the shore patrol would say “Do you take off your hat to piss, son?”

Honestly, what is it with this moron and the penis and anal sex references? I’m glad he didn’t serve on a submarine, because, you know, “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” sounds like something he’d say to his shower toy, pitcher or catcher respectively.

Surviving a societal collapse as a lone wolf will be nearly impossible. You’ll need people around you who are trustworthy and loyal and prepared. That’s where the family comes in. Think of yourselves as a military unit. Depending on your size, you could be a fire team or an entire squad. If you live near extended family, you could be talking about an entire platoon!

I recommend dressing them in uniform and doing close-order drills down at the mall.

That ought to advertise your willingness to engage any enemy, zombie or human, in battle.

WOLVER-BRAAAAAAAAAAAAANES!

Today I ask them to wash the dishes, but after society collapses, I’ll hand them a gun and send them up on the roof as a sentry from midnight to 2AM. If they shirk their duty, the whole family could be slaughtered in its sleep.

Meanwhile, the kid would be diggin’ the new iPad the Mooslimists handed him, and wishing his dad burn in hell…

Why am saying this? Because there are things you can be doing right now to prepare the minds of your spouse and kids.

I agree! For one thing, you should hang around the house in a wife-beater shirt, drinking cheap beer, Skippy. For another, clean your gun frequently and make sure the secretary down at your workplace knows you’ll be available “soon”.

In many cases, just getting on the same page in regards to preparing for societal collapse can improve your relationship.

Or you could just try couples therapy and overcome this deep-rooted paranoia that not only are the Muslims out to get you, but so is the family cat.

Hermaphrodites with penises longer than their bodies.

STOP JUDGING ME!!!!

David Cockerham of cockeyed.com has decided to run with the suggestions posted in comments here, apparently. He twits:

I’m making a Zombie reality show. I need a name, a team of slack-jawed groaners and a team of zombies.

“my wife and I once went on a date to a militia meeting. We had a good time and met a lot of nice people”, including a former ballplayer named “Kekich” !

WOLVER-BRAAAAAAAAAAAAANES!
moran

H-Bob, you might wanna keep your wife away from Mike Kekich.

Just sayin’…

Something to say?