bison fantasy farm

BISON FARM FANTASY

You might wonder why I, surely smarter than the average bear who reads Life After Doomsday a few times and then decides to open up his own web site with thirty-seven graphic ads per page and pretends to know a thing or two about the Apocalypse, am still living up in an area that only supported a few Indigs hunting and fishing and they were probably the rejects of other tribes and didn’t have much choice in the matter.  I mean, it isn’t like I haven’t moved dozens of times before.  It isn’t like I’m adverse to walking away from investments that didn’t work out as expected.  My survival plans here are far from perfect but they did coincide with my plans for the economic collapse.  But that doesn’t mean I HAVE to stay here.  The people here pretty much suck, Yuppie Scum from California, most women gold digging for a mine worker.  I could very easily move out to East Texas on my lot there.  One bus ticket, a few media mail packages to send my best books and fees to ship my guns through a couple of gun dealers is all it would take if I didn’t want to go the U-Haul route.  Money certainly isn’t keeping me from there.

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Even if two mobile home lots isn’t a lot of land, it is enough to grow close to enough calorie crops to supplement stored wheat.  If I put a small shack with porch on the land I can use most of the rest for gardening ( despite the above title, it is far from a farm.  But it also has no debt so I’m way ahead of the mortgage backed real farms ).  Being somewhat tropical I imagine it is going to be mostly corn-not exactly my favorite but then unlike some I realize one corn in hand is better than two freeze dried stews in the bush.  I can’t count on fishing in a crash- too much competition most likely.  But I should have enough land to grow something chickens will like and have plenty of eggs.  It is a feasible plan.  It fits nicely with an economic collapse.  It fits nicely with a retirement where Social Security has been broke and ended. 

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But it is a terrible plan for a die-off.  I would be something like a hundred miles ( if that- I forgot exactly, having researched the place nine years ago )  east of Dallas-Fort Worth, a Texas size mega-city of two million people.  Those people are not just going to just stay in place to starve.  They are going to say, hey, Tyrone, let’s go kill that honkey mo-fo who is responsible for oh-pressing ours peoples, word up and represent ( yes, I’ll admit a healthy dose of White Fright about living there ).  I’m not terribly safe here only six miles from the teeming metropolis of twenty thousand, but if I’m so inclined to Go Hermit I can move twenty miles up the road and be safe from everyone ( except my own then isolated mind, freed from the calming effects of civilization ).  Economic collapse is not the same as civilization collapse.  I’m healthily paranoid enough to be utterly convinced of a civilization die-off in a very short time.  Farming would be dangerous.  For ME.  Not to say everyone should follow my own example.  I throw it out there as an option.  Not as a cure-all.  Word up, homies.

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