In the midst of tragedy, scorn

"[The family of Jaylene Farrell, who died when a tornado struck Harrisburg, Illinois yesterday morning] want a song at her funeral that talks about praising God even through storms like this. And it just shows the incredible power of not general faith in something, but specific faith in Jesus Christ."

(Pastor Aaron Smith of the First Baptist Church of Harrisburg, speaking last night to CNN's Erin Burnett. The arrogant cleric exploits disaster, death and grief to take a swipe at anyone and everyone who doesn't share his particular religious beliefs, reminding us that only Christians are capable of coping with tragedy.)

And the Oscar goes to...

I urge readers of KintlaLake Blog to take 15 minutes to watch this video, "The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore." I find it wonderfully touching, inarguably deserving of the Academy Award for Best Animated Short Film it won last night.

Meteorology vs. melodrama

While waiting for the younger spawn to emerge from school on the first day of classes yesterday, I heard Rush Limbaugh nonsensically connect the dots -- from the perceived "hype" over Hurricane Irene to the media's allegiance to the Obama "regime."

It was like listening to a drunken college freshman use what he'd learned in Psych 101 to explain nuclear physics.

Moving on, he noted that Colin Powell said on Sunday that he hasn't yet decided who he'll vote for in 2012. Limbaugh then predicted that Powell again would vote for Pres. Obama because,

"Melanin is thicker than water."

The man knows his Dittoheads, I'll give him that. "Don't doubt me!" he bellows. "The fix is in!"

And indeed it is -- just don't tell Limbaugh's simple-minded poodles.

Getting back to Irene -- I'm no meteorologist, but I'm smart enough to recognize that forecasting weather, especially tropical systems, is an inexact science. Irene, like most hurricanes, bobbed and wiggled. It threatened to follow a path that could take an unprecedented toll in lives, livelihoods, property and infrastructure.

The worst didn't happen. Perfect hindsight, however, doesn't warrant indicting the press, forecasters or public officials for warning citizens of the scientifically reasonable chance that it could happen.

Yes, the media did inject unnecessary drama into the whole affair, but that's not unusual. They do it every day. It doesn't move me.

I do have a problem, though, with characterizing some as "ignoring" or "defying" official evacuation orders. Not the true idiots, people who went swimming in the surf as Hurricane Irene made landfall -- I'm talking about prepared, independent citizens who gauged the risks and responsibly chose to shelter-in-place.

Truth be told, the vast majority of folks who stayed put were guided by sentiment or ego, not by critical thought or common sense. The unprepared now complain that they're still stranded or that their power still hasn't been restored. And yes, even they deserve the right to ride out a big storm in their own homes.

Personally (and within reason) I would've done whatever it took to avoid becoming a refugee in my own land. That choice is neither ignorant nor defiant -- it's independent.

I spent 20-plus years of my life in southern New England. Often I ventured north into Vermont, New Hampshire and the Adirondacks of New York -- for the scenery, sure, but also because I was drawn to the region's independent spirit.

The remnants of Hurricane Irene unleashed catastrophic flooding on the area. Bridges I've crossed -- swept away. Streets I walked, the riverside restaurant where I savored morning coffee -- devastated. A friend's house perched on the bank of the Mad River, the place where I celebrated Independence Day a dozen years ago -- gone.

My heart aches for these Americans, and yet I have no doubt that they'll rebound and rebuild like the People they are.

Up there, see, especially in rural communities and small villages, independence wins out over drama -- every time.

Don't look now...

...but the Centers for Disease Control & Prevention is using tongue-in-cheek humor to educate a complacent public about preparedness.

Predictions that the world will end at 6pm tomorrow didn't deter the CDC from launching Zombie Apocalypse. (Ok, let's face it, those warnings of an imminent doomsday almost certainly played into the announcement.) The new campaign recycles familiar messages with a dose of fresh spin:

"You may laugh now, but when [a Zombie attack] happens you'll be happy you read this, and hey, maybe you'll even learn a thing or two about how to prepare for a real emergency."

Think about it -- this is coming from the federal agency that virtually wrote the book on gravitas. While it isn't aimed at the masses -- that job belongs to the Ready America joint initiative -- Zombie Apocalypse has a shot at reaching more citizens about the need to prepare.

I mean, if comic books are good enough for the U.S. Army, raising the whimsical prospect of reckoning with the Living Dead might just wake a few civilians from contented slumber. If it does, that's a good thing.

And if it doesn't, hell, at least it's different.

'Unsurvivable"

"It is possible to commit no mistakes and still lose. That is not a weakness. That is life." (Jean-Luc Picard*)

All day Wednesday, meteorologists were predicting an outbreak of severe weather in the deep South, expected to arrive that night. As I listened to them issue their dire warnings, one word stood out to me.

The word: unsurvivable. That is, a person in the storm's path could take all customary precautions (short of evacuating the area) and still it might not be enough to save their life.

Yesterday we learned that wasn't hyperbole -- 329 deaths (confirmed so far) in seven states, resulting from 174 tornadoes (sighted), some projected to be rated EF4 or EF5. An aerial survey conducted by the National Weather Service revealed an uninterrupted path of destruction stretching over 200 miles.

It's been a stormy spring in the Southeast, so we can speculate that some of the dead might've been victims of self-inflicted complacency or "alert fatigue." But even people who heeded the warnings and prudently sheltered in the center of their basement-less houses, away from windows and outside walls, had no shot against 200mph winds that scraped entire neighborhoods off their slabs.

What happened Wednesday night isn't cause for fatalism any more than it's reason to be complacent. We should continue to catalogue threats, develop a preparedness mindset, plan and practice, and then take action when the time comes.

In the end, we may fail. Still, we prepare not because our survival is guaranteed, but because being ready gives us a fighting chance.

*Captain Picard was consoling Lieutenant Commander Data after the latter lost at Strategema to Zakdornian master Sirma Kolrami; from the episode "Peak Performance," Star Trek: The Next Generation.

Putting a Capp on comics

I'll conclude my peek at government comics with two on Civil Defense.




The FCDA tapped cartoonist Al Capp to draw Mr. Civil Defense Tells About Natural Disasters! (1956) and Operation Survival! (1957). Capp's well-known "Li'l Abner" shows up on both covers, but only as bait -- the stories inside unfold in locales other than Dogpatch, populated by amusingly stereotypical 1950s characters.

These taxpayer-funded 'toons are intriguing slices of the early Cold War years. From our present-day perch they're naive, perhaps, but I find their simplism entertaining and, in a way, quite instructive.

As I've said, "The older I get, the simpler I like it."

Another gem from Kephart

"Good for Dad, Too"

"Among the millions who are over-age, or for other reasons are exempt from call to the colors, there are potential armies for home defence. The emergencies that demand such service come suddenly like floods or fires. A mob laughs at a posse of city men who never fired a gun. It quails before a band of cowboys or mountaineers who are known to be crack shots. The rangers and hill-billies may never have learned 'fours right,' but it is sure death to buck against them, just the same, and a mob knows it."

(From "The OUTING Legion: The Only Road to Skill With the Rifle Is Through Practice" by Horace Kephart, Outing, November 1917. The advertisement appeared in the July 1917 issue of Forest & Stream.)

Bugging: Whatever the question is...

...this is not the answer:



For $50,000 (per adult), an outfit known as Vivos will save you a place in one of its self-contained survival shelters. The company claims to have a "network" of these underground complexes -- 20 in the U.S. and two in Europe -- to save your well-heeled ass in case of:When the shit hits the fan, all you have to do is get to your assigned TEOTWAWKI timeshare -- each of which houses up to a thousand "members" -- before Vivos locks the door. Now that's (you should pardon the expression) turn-key survival.

Naturally, sales of doomsday shelters are up between 20% and 1,000% (depending on who's doing the bragging) in the wake of Japan's earthquake-tsunami-radiation disaster.

Whenever I hear about this kind of "assurance of life" racket, I know that P.T. Barnum was right -- the whole thing strikes me as designed to separate naive people from their money. For the moment, though, let's suppose that it's the real deal, just as Vivos claims it is.

Fundamentally, the only difference between a big-bucks bunker and a community shelter is the price. Inhabiting the former will be the less fortunate and the ill-prepared; in the latter will be wealthy hamsters.

No guns. No knives. No smoking.

Both groups will become nothing more than refugees. One, we may presume, would be free to go if they so choose, while the other paid dearly for the privilege of being imprisoned -- if, that is, they can even get to their gilded gaol.

And that -- actually getting there -- is among the myriad flaws of bugging out in general and Vivos-type schemes in particular. Public panic will set in within an hour after a catastrophic event (or word of its imminence) and, as a result, order will start breaking down. Roads will clog with evacuees. Opportunistic crime will spike and carefully prepared BOVs will be stolen, stripped or otherwise rendered useless.

No, thanks.

My family and I have made very different choices. We cultivate a preparedness mindset, hone our skills and plan to shelter-in-place unless we have a damned good reason to leave -- 'cause in the end (again, please pardon the expression), there's no place like home.

(Oh, by the way -- if you're really into the "continuance of life" thing and want to throw money at preserving the human race instead of your own survival, Vivos offers a CryoVault deal, too. "Join us in the gene pool," they say. Talk about chilly...)

"...pole shift, super volcano eruptions, solar flares, earthquakes, tsunamis, and asteroids...nuclear bombs, bio terrorism, chemical warfare...the return of Planet X (known as Nibiru) and the massive solar system disturbances it will cause."

Japan: Begging the question

If someone were to ask me, "What happened in Japan?" I could default to simple explanation: a major earthquake off the northeast coast, the temblor triggering a tsunami, and so on.

Those would be the facts. Accurate as they are, however, they aren't terribly useful right now -- not to millions of survivors caught up in the catastrophe, and not to those of us striving to learn from it.


The "disaster" here isn't an earthquake or a tsunami. It's unchecked HazMats, both chemical and biological, and fires raging out of control. It's shortages of fuel and food, fouled water supplies and squashed commerce. Where the power grid isn't in shambles, rolling blackouts have been employed. Communications and transportation systems either are damaged or have been taken off-line.

It's tens of thousands of people living as refugees in their own land. It's an infrastructure overwhelmed by forces of nature and undermined by compromises in design. It's an already-ailing economy, the world's third-largest, dealt a crippling blow.

What happened in Japan? A civilized, high-tech, First World nation has been sent careening madly toward collapse.

From a preparedness perspective, causes matter less than effects. Once we've catalogued our threats (surveyed "the lay of the land," if you will) and determined specific needs (like potassium iodide tablets), we prepare to be as self-sufficient as possible in the face of present difficulty, regardless of what caused the difficulty.

Circumstances will dictate whether we shelter-in-place or bug out, but the basics -- mindset, shelter, water, security, mobility, fire, food, health, communications and commerce -- apply in any case. The reason for executing our plan becomes virtually irrelevant.

And so we prepare primarily not for causes but for the aftermath, provided that we're lucky enough to have emerged from the original calamity -- and then we adapt to that aftermath, whatever form it takes. I'm sure that a survivor in Sendai today, for example, would agree with Jim Hanks, who escaped US Airways flight 1549 after it splashed into the Hudson River two years ago:Survival is complex and cumulative. Outcomes are the result of actions building on actions. We survive one moment at a time, standing on a foundation of choices we've made.

Much is made of Japan's "culture of preparedness." Given the seismic threat, it's true that the Japanese people and their government are more involved and aware than, say, their American counterparts. Still, as I've watched events unfold over the last several days, it's obvious that survival -- and therefore preparedness -- is an inarguably individual endeavor.

Another thing that's clear (like we didn't know this already) is that we can count on the authorities to soft-pedal the scope, severity and impact of catastrophic events. That's actually wise, in a way -- most people panic when delivered an awful truth, and panic kills. A strategy of placating and appeasement requires fewer body bags.

With that in mind, we should act from our own experience and trust our instincts.

Just two more observations before I close. First, any American naive enough to believe that "it couldn't happen here" is on notice -- it can.

Second, if I turn on CNN again and have the misfortune of seeing Ryan McDonald, an American teacher living in Japan, whine one more time about having only a bottle of water and a cup of rice noodles in 12 hours -- 12 hours! The agony! -- I swear I'm gonna hurl.

Mr. McDonald needs to pour himself a tall glass of shut the hell up and spend some time with this photo:

"One of the things I discovered is that in a situation like this, you have to survive more than once."

Bugging: A new primer from WLC

I shared one of Kevin Estela's helpful PowerPoints back in 2009; his name also came up in "On 'false gods'" a week ago. Now I'm pleased to pass along another of his Wilderness Learning Center presentations -- enjoy and learn.

View all presentations from Kevin Estela on slideshare.

Trading liberty for continuity

As recent events unfolded in Egypt, the government thrashed about in an effort to preserve the regime. In a nation that had been under "emergency rule" for three decades, we saw even more restrictions imposed -- curfews, wholesale censorship, closing banks and blocking access to the Internet, mobile-phone networks and more.

It's tempting to point to the departure of Pres. Hosni Mubarak as "proof" that those measures failed and, by extension, that the Egyptians' "people power" won. It's also incorrect.

Mubarak may be gone but the government, steered by the same military council that ran the show before the popular uprising began, remains -- and that was the goal from the start.

Virtually every nation, state and city has what's called continuity of government or continuity of operations plans, crafted to make sure that the government emerges from a crisis -- whatever it takes.
Earlier this week we got a look at what the State of New York has in mind. In "A Legal Manual for an Apocalyptic New York," The New York Times reported on the release of an official guide for judges and lawyers in the wake of a terrorist attack, a major radiological, biological or chemical contamination, or a pandemic.

From the Times article:

"Quarantines. The closing of businesses. Mass evacuations. Warrantless searches of homes. The slaughter of infected animals and the seizing of property. When laws can be suspended and whether infectious people can be isolated against their will or subjected to mandatory treatment."

The New York State Public Health Legal Manual (pdf here) is as chilling as it is dispassionate. Here's an excerpt:

"...the chief executive of the locality is authorized to 'proclaim a local state of emergency.' ... Once having done so, local authorities may establish curfews, quarantine wide areas, close businesses, restrict public assemblies and, under certain circumstances, suspend local ordinances."

In other words, when the shit hits the fan, all bets (including the Constitution and the Bill of Rights) are off. A careful reading of the New York manual reveals that the mess made by "deprivation of liberty" will get cleaned up after the crisis has passed.

I'm sure that's what the Egyptian government said 30 years ago.

Thanks to continuity plans, the first casualties of a crisis will be our individual liberties. What's more, there's absolutely nothing that we can do to prevent the assault -- our government will do whatever it takes to sustain itself.

We'd be foolish to waste time now protesting the all-but-certain decimation of human and constitutional rights in a crisis -- really, it's futile. When threatened, a government always will act in its interest, under the banner of preserving the State for the People, no matter what the Constitution says.

That's what governments do.

For us, a better choice would be to get familiar with what our nation, states, counties and municipalities have planned for "emergencies" and, of course, to prepare ourselves accordingly.

That's what independent citizens do.

Eyjafjallajökull

I can't pronounce it, either, but I don't need to speak Icelandic to take its lessons.
This sub-Arctic volcano began trembling its warnings in mid-2009, erupting briefly a month ago before quieting until April 14th, when it unleashed a plume of ash that's still disrupting air travel worldwide.

We know all that, of course. What's worth watching are the effects of this natural phenomenon -- or, to be more accurate, our responses to its effects.

There's volcanic activity across the globe and eruptions are inevitable. We're familiar with the behavior of jet streams and surface winds. It's common knowledge that aircraft must avoid flying through volcanic ash, lest engines seize and planes crash.

With only that basic information, then, we can predict that when a volcano erupts -- whether it's in Iceland, Chile, the Philippines or Wyoming -- its effects can spread well beyond the surrounding area and air travel could take a hit. Contingency plans are in order. The question is, where are those plans now?

Judging by the last seven days, it looks like commercial carriers were caught flat-footed. And since volcanoes don't play favorites, I find myself wondering how air forces based in Europe planned for this -- thousands of military aircraft are grounded, too.

I haven't heard that question asked, much less answered.

Eyjafjallajökull will keep erupting as long as it wants to -- nothing can be done about that. While the world watches the scenario play out, however, individuals can go to school on a matter having little to do with volcanology.

There's truly no excuse for airlines treating Eyjafjallajökull like a passing thunderstorm. And if they have no plan for dealing with hundreds of thousands of passengers stranded because a volcano is erupting in Iceland, it's reasonable to predict that they haven't planned for the effects of war, unrest, fuel shortages or much else.

That's disturbing, sure, but let's bring the lessons close to home.

All disasters ultimately are local, even personal. It's up to each of us to identify the threats, predict disruptions and prepare to survive in their wake.

As important as it is to catalog threats, causes matter less than our ability to execute individual plans. We can't rely on government, commercial interests, military or law enforcement to be our salvation -- or, for that matter, our backstop. If we're without water, a reliable food supply, shelter or the ability to travel, we must presume that we'll be on our own.

Waiting 'til after the SHTF to spot threats and hatch plans, like the airlines are doing, is a recipe for failure. Prepare now -- no excuses.

Thinking in stickers

Recent headlines and cultural fixations offer food for thought. They're not bad fodder for bumper stickers, either.

'Save the Bullies!'
Confronting a bully is among the first trials that a kid faces. We can't prevent such encounters -- nor, in my opinion, should we try.

It's fine with me if schools, in the interest of discipline and order, consider student-on-student harassment unacceptable and take steps to throttle it. But every time that we, this increasingly Oprahfied society, demand that children be sheltered from difficult rites-of-passage, we cultivate a fragile generation which will expect the same protection in adulthood.

Rightfully we mourn the loss of young people "driven to suicide" by their peers' cruelty. Our resulting rage, however, is misdirected -- we reflexively blame the bullies, oblivious to the fact that shielding children encourages irrational, irresponsible choices. Our kids live in temporary safety, carrying forever a defect of our making.

We need bullies. We must raise our children to have strength that's built by enduring storms, not weakness that comes from hiding indoors until the next sunny day.

Surely storms will come. When they do, will our kids have what it takes to survive?

'Sex is a Ham Sandwich'
A Wisconsin district attorney has issued a letter of warning to educators: Teach the state-mandated sex-ed curriculum and you risk prosecution as a sex offender.

That's right -- according to this guy, explaining the use of contraceptives to kids who probably are sexually active anyway could put a teacher on the pointy end of criminal or civil action.

Rather than getting lost in the outright silliness of what the prosecutor did, allow me to point out what motivated him to do it: Democrats were responsible for proposing and approving the sex-ed curriculum; Republicans, without exception, opposed it; and the DA is a Republican taking political shots from half-court.

So his letter isn't a legal opinion -- it's an ideological agenda. If he tries to make an example of some law-abiding teacher, the made-for-TV movie will need a laugh track and I'm gonna need more popcorn.

'Tiger = Golfer'
My relationship with Tiger Woods is pretty simple: He's a master of the game of golf and I appreciate mastery.

I don't care where he parks his Buick.

Anyone disappointed by his off-course excursions should take a good look in the mirror -- the adulation we heaped on this man created expectations that he couldn't possibly meet. If we see him as a "role model" who's tumbled from a pedestal of grace, we should temper our self-righteousness with the knowledge that we built that pedestal and put him up there.

'My other party is the GOP'
The Tea Party "movement" has announced that it's forming the National Tea Party Federation, ostensibly to lure grassroots groups into its right-wing maw.

TPers are under the illusion that their brand of populism is going big-time. Clearer heads realize that the NTPF will accomplish basically two things -- it'll kill whatever independence is left in the movement and hasten its inevitable absorption into the Republican Party.

This public hijacking is fascinating to watch, isn't it?

'Un-Bun-Burger-Bun-Burger-Bun'
Some years ago "Kentucky Fried Chicken" became "KFC," caving to pressure to eliminate the word "fried" from its red-and-white buckets. With the introduction of the KFC Double Down sandwich three days from now, the restaurant chain will begin to make amends for its descent into political correctness.

The Double Down is "two thick and juicy boneless white meat chicken filets (Original Recipe® or Grilled), two pieces of bacon, two melted slices of Monterey Jack and pepper jack cheese and Colonel's Sauce." No bun.

Screw the Health Nazis -- I'm lovin' it. (Sorry, Ronald.) As I salivate over 540 calories and 1,380 grams of sodium, I only hope I can order my Double Down with extra trans-fat on the side.

'Got Light? Thank a Coal Miner.'
The next time I flip a wall switch, I'll remember Pam Napper.

When an explosion tore through the Upper Big Branch South mine near Montcoal, West Virginia on Monday afternoon, it took the lives of Josh Napper, Timmy Davis Sr. and Timmy Davis Jr. -- Pam's son, brother and nephew.

Her burden, unfair as it is, is shouldered by her community and the families of the other miners who perished.

"It's just West Virginia," she says.

No, Pam, it's not. We can't know your pain but we can honor you, your men and the tens of thousands who pay for our comfort with sweat and sacrifice.

Remembering is the least we can do.

Dawn to sorrow

This morning brought news of an underground explosion at a coal mine in southern West Virginia. Media are reporting 25 miners dead, four missing.

Some of us grieve more than others, or differently. It's common in this part of the country to count coal miners among our ancestors, family and friends. My wife, born and raised in Morgantown, can say that her grandfather, a handful of cousins and many schoolmates' relatives worked (or still work) in the mines. Ohio's coal brought my great grandfather to America from Scotland.

To claim that Mrs. KintlaLake and I have coal dust coursing through our veins, however, wouldn't be right. In our comfort we can't grasp the hardship, the dangers, the uncertainty and inevitably the heartache that miners and their families know. That experience is the painful province of places like Montcoal, Sago, Fairview.

We do our best to understand. We grieve now because these hard-working Americans, many of whom live in abject poverty, risk and sweat and sacrifice to feed their families. We're humbled by the knowledge that their unimaginably difficult labor keeps our lights on.

Anyone who's tempted to dismiss them as "poor white trash" couldn't lift a coal miner's lunch bucket. Miners deserve no less respect than soldiers, cops and firefighters.

They'll always have my respect. This morning I join them in sorrow.

Quote of the day

"Amateurs study tactics. Professionals study logistics." (Lt. Gen. Russel Honoré, U.S. Army (retired), invoking an ages-old military truism in commenting on the humanitarian-aid mess in post-earthquake Haiti)

On notice: Haiti

Off the top here, I encourage all readers of KintlaLake Blog to donate $10 to earthquake-relief efforts in Haiti by sending the text message HAITI to 90999 -- if, that is, you're already involved in the life of your own community, and unless it's just a perfunctory feel-good thing for you.

I did, I am and it's not.

Pay attention to what's unfolded in Haiti over the last 36 hours. Notice how human nature expresses itself in the wake of disaster. See what happens when prison walls crumble and convicts roam the streets. Look at the way chaos establishes order and a brutal new hierarchy spreads over the land.

Try to look past the fact that Haiti is the poorest nation in the Western Hemisphere. Resist the arrogant temptation to assume that it "can't happen in America."

It can and, inevitably, it will. Watch, learn and prepare accordingly.

Forget that, remember this

Thanks to the Hurricane Katrina fiasco, everyone knows who Ray Nagin is -- mayor of New Orleans, would-be architect of a "Chocolate City," and official symbol of his subjects' self-imposed helplessness and sense of entitlement.

Try, if you can, to forget Ray Nagin -- and remember Dennis Walaker.

Walaker is mayor of Fargo, North Dakota, which today is under unprecedented assault by the rising waters of the Red River. And in contrast to Nagin's whiny grandstanding, Walaker is demonstrating humility and a can-do attitude reflected in the citizens of Fargo.

Shortly after learning that floodwaters were projected to crest at more than 26 feet above flood stage, Walaker said,

"We do not want to give up yet. We want to go down swinging if we go down."

The people of Fargo, like their mayor, definitely are swinging. Rather than standing around screaming, "We need help! We need help!" for the television cameras, North Dakotans, without fanfare, are volunteering by the thousands -- it's their home and they're accepting responsibility for protecting it. It's inspiring to watch.

They're getting aid from federal and state agencies, of course, including the National Guard, but they're not relying on someone else to save their city. College kids and school children are joining adult citizens in filling and deploying millions of sandbags, rescuing stranded neighbors and caring for the less-than-able.

Anyone remember seeing much of that sort of thing in New Orleans? Funny, I don't, either.

By the way, don't dare talk to me about the racial and socio-economic disparity between Fargo and New Orleans -- neither is a credible explanation for the difference in attitude between a flock of greedy sheep and a fiercely independent populace.

Likewise, there's no need to compare a hurricane to a rising river, or four days' warning of imminent natural disaster to a week's notice. No one can convince me that the people of Fargo wouldn't have thrown the same initiative into Katrina's face, or that many New Orleanians would've been inclined to stand for hours in icy water, enduring sub-freezing temperatures to stack sandbags in defense of their city.

And don't forget -- after Katrina, the City of New Orleans took action to seize more than a thousand legally owned firearms from law-abiding citizens, guns that weren't part of any criminal investigation. Nagin and his police chief left these citizens unarmed in the face of roving gangs, home invaders and other criminals.

I could be wrong about this, but I doubt seriously that we'll see the same reckless violation of Second Amendment rights in Fargo.

Speaking as a human being and fellow American, I have compassion for the people of New Orleans, even now -- but feeling bad for them, with their incompetent city government, corrupt law enforcement and collective gimme attitude, is as far as I go.

Mayor Dennis Walaker and the people of Fargo, on the other hand, have earned my respect. To the extent that I can offer more than my moral support, they'll damned sure get it.

Now would be a good time

It's hard to ignore all the chaff in the air these days.

We can argue over whether or not this presidential campaign sets a new mark for irrelevant venom, but looking past the candidates to voters themselves, I can't recall ever seeing my country so angrily divided. Spiking that toxic climate is an economy that's circling the bowl -- markets tanking, credit freezing, prices rising and jobs vanishing.

Oh, and the holiday season is right around the corner.

All that adds up to unprecedented pressure on ordinary Americans. Anyone who claims to be unaffected is either out of touch or out of circulation.

The product of pressure is fear. Fear begets irrational behavior, and irrationality makes bad situations worse. History shows that people don't need a natural disaster, a terrorist attack or other calamity to act out their fear, and I'm here to suggest that at this moment in history our domestic society is ripe for sudden and widespread ugliness.

There will come a tipping point. Maybe it'll be the results of the election (no matter who wins), maybe it'll be a sudden market crash or a rash of bank failures, even a serial sniper or a school shooting. Something -- or a series of somethings, related or not -- will happen that breaches the dam holding back Americans' pent-up fear.

I believe it's inevitable, and I expect to see it before the end of January.

As I've said before, the population comprises those who are prepared and those who aren't. We can't, for the most part, control outside events or the actions of others, but we can choose to prepare. At the risk of sounding alarmist -- and I acknowledge that ship sailed in this blog long ago -- now is the time to make sure that we, as individuals, are ready.

Have a plan. Assemble the materials and information required to execute the plan. Prepare to exist in an America temporarily without conveniences like credit cards, ATMs and corner gas stations. Plot community resources and know how to make use of them. Understand potential threats and prepare to defend against them.

In a society dominated by dependence, we must prepare to be independent -- now.

No problem? No problem.

Don't try to fill 'er up in Nashville right now.

Last Friday morning, unconfirmed reports of a gasoline shortage started circulating. No one knows how the rumors got started, but local media picked up the gossip and long lines began forming at stations throughout middle Tennessee.

By evening rush hour, less than 10% of Nashville-area retailers had gas left to sell -- in an eight-hour span when most folks were at work, a city of 600,000 essentially ran itself out of gas.

Residents limped through last weekend by car-pooling or staying home. Gas stations aren't expecting deliveries until today or tomorrow.

Nashville wasn't struck by a natural disaster. Before the rumors took hold, there was no critical shortage of fuel. Like much of the Southeast and Midwest, thanks to hurricanes Gustav and Ike, the city was dealing with reduced supplies, but the situation was manageable.

Then came the rumors, and panic-buying overtook the city. At that point, all bets were off.

Nashvillians have no one but themselves to blame, of course, but the rest of us shouldn't feel too smug -- an irrational "run" like this can happen anywhere, any time and with any commodity.

After the remnants of Ike blew through central Ohio a week ago, a low-grade version of the Nashville panic unfolded right here, as stores quickly sold out of typical disaster-related items. Still, my family and I didn't have to pay high prices or wait in line -- because our approach, to coin a phrase, is "cache-and-carry (on)."

Think about it -- anyone with a garage or a utility shed probably has a safe place to cache at least 20 gallons of gasoline. We add a couple of ounces of Sta-bil to each five-gallon can and rotate our stock through the lawn tractor, refilling containers as they're emptied.

Spending four bucks on a shrink-wrapped flat of bottled water every trip to the grocery quickly adds up to an emergency stockpile; the same principle can be applied to accumulating stores of non-perishable food. Tossing each day's pocket change into a jar, then rolling the coins and stashing them away, answers the question, "What do I do if nobody's taking credit cards and all the ATMs are down?"

It ain't rocket science.

When we hear "preparedness," we usually think of getting ready for natural disasters like hurricanes or ice storms, or a man-made calamity like a chemical spill or even a terrorist attack. But as the Nashville scenario demonstrates, unprepared and panic-prone Americans are quite capable of creating their own crises.

The same rules apply. Prepare -- now.

Watch & learn

Across the state of Ohio, damage from Sunday's visit by "Ike Lite" is widespread. More than a million homes and businesses remain without power, many schools are closed for a second straight day and six deaths have been attributed to the windstorm.

On the bright side, recovery isn't being hampered by floodwaters, rain or sweltering heat -- the last two days have been clear and calm, with temps ranging from the mid-50s to the low 70s. For power-company and debris-removal crews, it's like cleaning up after a big ice storm, without having to battle snow and freezing cold.

So no, Ohioans aren't suffering like Texans are. But to be fair, some of my fellow Buckeyes truly are hurting -- homes made uninhabitable, serious injuries sustained, small businesses interrupted or destroyed.

Those dealing with real adversity deserve help from neighbors and relief organizations. Watching local news this morning, however, I was struck by the words of a woman who looked to be in her 30s, interviewed last night at a Red Cross emergency shelter:

"I didn't want to be in the dark any more."

Less than 24 hours after the winds subsided, she succumbed to the unbearable torment of living without artificial light. Unfortunately, she's typical of spoiled, unprepared Americans.

That shelter, set up at the state fairgrounds, can accommodate up to 20,000 people. I can't help wondering how many of this lady's fellow "refugees" reflect her helplessness and attitude of entitlement.

By 9am yesterday, stores here in metro Columbus were sold out of flashlights, batteries, candles, bottled water, generators and chain saws. Many gas stations lucky enough to have power have run dry because their scheduled deliveries have been delayed. The local ice-making company sold 400,000 bags and had to close to make more.

Panic may be embarrassing, but at least it's instructive.

The first lesson, of course, is to notice that we're surrounded by parasites and vow never to join the ill-prepared majority.

Second, we need to differentiate between an inconvenience and a hardship. Darkness isn't a tragedy and ice isn't a necessity -- and burning gallon after gallon of scarce, four-dollar gas to find a store selling ice is just plain ignorant.

Next, since it's reasonable to presume that even the hardest-hit areas will be back to normal within a week, we should resist the temptation to run out and get what we should've had before things went south. We'll only face long lines, short supplies and premium prices, and we'll be draining our gas tanks. Dumb.

Better that we suck it up, use what we have and deal with a little temporary discomfort.

While we're making do and doing without, we should take full advantage of the situation -- I mean, this is a summertime power outage, not TEOTWAWKI in January. It's a good time to note the items we're missing -- a 12-volt "car charger" for the cell phone, an extra tank of gas for the grill, a one-burner propane camp stove, a battery-powered lantern for the dining-room table, a hand saw, a big blue tarp, etc.

And then there are those Homer-esque "Doh!" moments -- like reaching for the garage-door button and realizing that we have to lift it manually. How's this rope thing work? Better practice doing this before the next outage. Damn, it's heavy. Maybe I should lube the springs and cables.

Finally, for those of us with kids, we should use the experience as an opportunity to teach patience, self-reliance and simple, practical skills. In the end, the most important lessons we learn may be the ones we pass along to our children.