Right, so I got about 5 minutes into Doomsday Preppers on Nat Geo before I couldn’t take any more. I mean, I believe in raising my own food. And I’m all about preparing for tornadoes, temporary power outages, and the various disasters we’re prone to here in the heartland (so far, the earthquakes have been minimal, and no tsunamis have been reported).
But you have to draw the line somewhere. Let’s see where I fall on the prepping scale, shall we?
1. Grow some of your own food? Check.
2. Raise chickens in your back yard? Check.
3. Have supply of water and prepared foods on hand in case of emergency? Check.
4. Have the know-how to rig a solar cooker, raise potatoes, and preserve some of your garden bounty? Check.
5. Run drills in the dead of night in case you are about to be invaded by marauding bands of looters who will steal your precious 30-year supply of dried beans? Ch–wait, what?
Seriously. This couple ran armed drills–at night, in the dark–to make sure they were prepared for invasion. They learned Tagalog, just so they could have a way of communicating that the invaders would not understand.
Tagalog? I mean, Klingon at least gets you some geek cred.
Another group had a 30-year supply of food and ran drills so that they could move themselves, their animals, their weapons (can’t forget the weapons), and their supplies by converted school bus to a remote, hidden location.
Remember, this is what I gleaned from 5 minutes of watching this show. I couldn’t get through a whole episode: I started to veer between scoffing and moments of paranoia.
And now, it turns out I don’t even have the right kind of chickens in case the zombie apocalypse arrives. My Rhode Island Reds are just not going to cut it in the camouflage department, making them an easy target for zombies looking for the perfect taste complement to the neighbor’s brain.
"Oh my god, Margaret! The zombies have already gotten a hold of that one!"
One of my friends assures me that in a post-Apocalyptic world, I will be quite valuable thanks to my knowledge of how to raise food. Well, thank god. Because clearly my survival is going to depend on hooking up with some people who have the wherewithal to shoot at invaders, and I better be able to bring something to the table.
And just as clearly, it won’t be my chickens.
The Fraudulent Farmgirl 