“It is possible to commit no mistakes and still lose. That is not a weakness. That is life.”
Jean-Luc Picard, to Data
A ready-for-anything mindset runs strong in the prepper community. The prevailing attitude is that with the right tools, supplies and skills, it’s possible to prepare for any and all calamities. Post-event or post-crisis, life would go on — certainly different, perhaps more primitive, but relatively normal.
I appreciate the confidence, the can-do approach to challenges. Problem is, it fails to account for one important thing.
Sometimes, the bomb falls on your head.
Many events can’t be imagined, much less predicted. Some are just plain unsurvivable — a person can do everything right and still fail or die. All that prepping goes for naught when a tornado levels a bug-out location or a wildfire incinerates stockpiled supplies.
Obviously, the good People of southern Appalachia can tell us all about that right now.
There was no anticipating the meteorological cocktail that led to once-in-a-thousand-years flooding that devastated the region, erased infrastructure and scraped entire communities off the map. Folks living 250 statute miles inland from the Atlantic coast and 400 miles from where this hurricane came ashore had no reason to expect such a catastrophe.
What’s more, there truly was no way for residents to prepare adequately for this. The bomb fell on their heads.
The death toll in the American Southeast stands at 204 (and counting). Of those who emerged with their lives, many thousands lost their livelihoods, their homes, every material thing they owned.
Recovery will take years. Some towns won’t come back at all. Sadly, over time we’ll learn of people who didn’t survive the process.
Those who prepared — and whose preps were undamaged by water or wind — still will be better off than those who didn’t. But as if to demonstrate that coming back from disaster is neither easy nor linear, their recovery is being sabotaged.
This time it’s not weather adding insult to injury. It’s organized labor.
“I will cripple you!” came the threat from the president of the massive dock-workers’ union a month ago. He was wrong about that — it was Helene that dealt the southern Appalachians a crippling blow. His members’ strike, now underway at ports on the Atlantic and Gulf coasts, will produce not infirmity but death.
The worker-sheep’s demands are, as usual, pathetic, and the walkout — explicitly endorsed by both the current occupant of the Oval Office and the Democrat seeking to replace him — is, especially under these circumstances, unforgivable.
But the hand that’s been dealt is the hand that must be played. Again, those with a preparedness mindset will have an advantage.
And that brings me back to the whole point of prepping. We prepare for the aftermath of events. We prepare for the inevitable reactions to events. We prepare for navigating the disorder created by events.
It’s not about surviving the unsurvivable or skating through the unimaginable. Those are delusions.
In simple terms, we prepare to give ourselves a chance, a shot at life and living.
If we die, we die. Fate factors into every equation. As preppers, however, we do our damnedest to make our own luck.
Dabbling in lanyard-making the last few mornings reminded me that playing with paracord can be addictive. It’s all too easy to finish a small, simple cordage project, then look around for something else that could benefit from a tether or a wrap.
Am I saying that it’s possible to go overboard with paracord?
Yes, I am.
It’s been 15 years, give or take, since the last time I slid down that slippery slope. I was putting cord wraps on everything in sight. Some of my choices were downright ridiculous, while others (pictured) were more rational.
(That nail puller, or “cat’s paw,” by the way, is an Exhumer 9 from Dead On Tools. It rode in the door pocket of my truck for years — y’know, in case I ever encountered a nail just beggin’ to be pulled.)
There were times, however, when I took a good thing too far. I crossed a line.
I went overboard with paracord.
Exhibit A: my very first Glock knife. The handle of the black Glock 81, I figured, would fit my big paws better if I gave it a bit more girth. And so I did, making it much more comfortable in-hand.
Satisfied with that, I looked at the sheath. It was still black, and… well, you can see what happened.
In my defense, and as a practical matter, wrapping the sheath (and the handle) gave me a great way to carry extra paracord that I could scavenge in an emergency. I don’t know exactly how much I wound around the thing, but it’s a lot.
I’ve spent a bunch of hours in the woods with this rig. It’s the sharpest Glock knife I own, both the cutting edge and the sawback. The wrap doesn’t interfere at all with its function.
Still, every time I look at it, I have the same reaction — “Oh, c’mon… seriously?”
I think I’m past that now.
Probably.
It’s time for an Arkansas wildfire-danger update — between late last night and first thing this morning, Marion County, where we live, went from low (green) to moderate (yellow). And yeah, it’s been dry here.
A dozen counties at high danger for wildfire (orange on the map) are immediately to our west and southwest. Seven of those have imposed burn bans, three more than yesterday.
Arkansas Forestry almost always assigns risk by district, of which there are eight in the state. What’s unusual this time is that the agency broke off the four westernmost counties (including Marion) in District 8 and tagged them at moderate risk, while the other 12 remain in the green.
Considering that, along with recent trends and a two-week extended forecast showing virtually no chance of rain, I’d better stay ahead of my combustibles. I wouldn’t be surprised to see a Marion County burn ban before the month is out.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB