This morning, as per usual, I am having more black beans and black bear soup for breakfast on a cold mountain in Montana, waiting for all h*ll to break loose. I prefer beef, but presently bear meat is all that I have. The first few months of a collaspe may be the worst as the desperate and raiding gangs will be active. And then comes several years of famine. And the rest of the Four Horsemen. Today, I must decide on whether to get a range finder, or a box of 1,000 match-grade bullets for the old war horse: a …
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