Migrating to a new web host caused me to Google “Adaptive Curmudgeon”. It showed up! (All hail the efficiency of the heartless, privacy violating, faceless, corporate overlords who run/crush “the cloud”.)
Unexpectedly, it also turned up a link to James Wesley Rawles. For the six people who don’t know the name, Rawles is a prime mover behind SurvivalBlog.com and he’s written a bunch of books. (“Bunch” means a hell of a lot more than me!) If you haven’t read SurvivalBlog.com you should. It’s a blast! Forget all about me and go there now.
SurvivalBlog.com is a wonderful rabbit hole into which one can fall. There’s just so much stuff to learn and do. From my point of view, SurvivalBlog and Rawles staked out a claim to the awesome end of the “spectrum of survivalism” and who wouldn’t be impressed with that?
Definition: The “survivalism spectrum” starts with its absence. Think of the hordes who’ll stampede onto cattle cars headed for a FEMA camp if you offer a free Obamaphone and a bottle of tapwater. From there it moves into people who don’t need FEMA’s shit: beginning with folks who own cars and have the wisdom to use them to get outta’ Dodge. Mixed in is the progression from folks who can fix their cars, to people who can fix their guns, to people who’ll hike across the desert buck naked and carrying a stick because by God they don’t need nothin’. (They also have a secret underground fortress. Which all men have wanted since they were age six and considered “Pirate” a reasonable career. Don’t lie to me… you all wanted to be Pirates… I know I did.) The site’s million zillion posts are leavened by readers who can (or at least aim to) do everything.
It’s awesome but a little overwhelming. Compared to the average peon in a shopping mall I’m a hard-core lunatic. Compared to the Bert Gummer types who sometimes inhabit SurvivalBlog.com, I’m sheeple. I’ll cop to that. My plans are full of flaws. I assure my own bacon supply but barely keep my lawnmower running. I travel everywhere but an EMP would put my Dodge’s computer into electronic “Death Wobble”. I have a HAM radio but don’t talk to anybody. I can skin a buck but I am not good at running a trot line. Etc…
I tend to think of Rawles as the unofficially official spokesman of uber prepared people who are far beyond my league. I inhabit the smaller and less impressive farm team system of guys with boring day jobs. Then again what the hell do I know? I never met the guy. Maybe he’d be able to teach a monkey like me how to fix my damn tractor’s timing; possibly while under attack by zombies… in a blizzard. (Maybe he’d put me in touch with a tinkerer with a Raspberry Pi based fuel injection system? Maybe he can plow a field with a stick and would call me a pussy? You can never tell.)
What was the topic? (I drifted a bit didn’t I?)
Oh yes, it all leads to a question:
“Why should a Google search of Adaptive Curmudgeon turn up the testosterone soaked awesomeness of Rawles?”
It comes down to this book:
It’s a good book. Buy it and be at one with shovels and such.
I’m in the book. No shit! Google was aware of this even as I wasn’t.
Just to be sure, I bought the book. There it is, heading to Chapter 10, page 140; the words of yours truly:
I was so excited!
It’s a good book. I heartily recommend it. I’m not just saying that because 50 words out of 100,000 are from my pointy little head. The other 99,950 words are good too. You should buy six copies and give them to everyone for Christmas; especially for your lunkhead friends who borrow tools and return them messed up. They’ll get the hint. (Or you can hit them with the book.)
Full disclosure. I get a haypenny from Amazon if you buy the book (or anything) from the link but I don’t have anything to do with the book. Also I’m hoping Rawles, whom I’ve never met, has a sense of humor about some idiot demanding a free beer for 50 words of bullshit. Otherwise I’m in deep shit over the post’s title! Mrs. Curmudgeon figures I’ll get my ass kicked, my dog is a solid no comment, and I’m assuming Ralwes is too cool to notice me. In the meantime I’ve got a nice book to read for the Christmas season.
A.C.
P.S. Plus my words are in print! In a real book; with paper and binding and everything. How cool is that? If you’re reading this Rawles, thanks and sorry for being a wiseass, I’ll gladly buy the first round if we ever meet.