The Last Temptation of the Mall Ninja Confession Booth

So when you are a survivalist and a reefer head, when you are not sodomizing entranced suburban white girls to a sultry jazz backbeat, you come up with a lot of weird ideas for your post TEOTWAWKI plans, some of them creative, some of them merely disturbed.

I've mentioned my castle made of shipping containers before, and some versions of the plan involve me having a moat around it. And so I get to thinking, hey, every evil genius warlord has a nasty creature in his fuckin' moat. But alligators are too cliche, and they die in an Indiana winter anyway. Piranhas? Too lazy to actually kill anything most of the time. An utter lack of sea serpents or hit bi water nymphs with enchantment powers brings us to California sea lions.

I WILL FUCKING KEEL YOU

And the next thing you are looking up their wikipedia page and determining if they can survive in your climate and trying to figure out if you can train them to be territorial dicks to everyone but you.

Some other ideas that have had some serious table time in this organization:

Building a high pressure pneumatic airgun that fires moderately sized ball bearings on full auto powered by three big co2 cylinders sitting in an armored box in a van, with a rotating turret that can be controlled by remote or set up to fire at designated targets automatically. Our own fully legal technical remote with no paperwork.

Mounting the entire unit on Tibetan yaks because apparently they can be ridden like horses. In the hilly terrain of southern IN they would be great for winter ops, they can carry a hell of a load, and they are a triple use animal (Milk, fur and meat) with surprisingly good characteristics. Naturally, we had planned on issuing kilts and calling ourselves the Royal Canadian Kilted Yaksmen-but then I thought Canada doesn't really deserve us representing it.



Another item of note: We are going to be merchant gods in the PAW, bitch-we are stockpiling porno mags. One of our guys has about the largest collection of Club magazine that has ever been compiled. I think that will comprise one of our primary trade goods with other survivor colonies. Do you know how little porn is going to make it out of the zombie apocalypse? Not much my friends-and we will have the lion's share. We keep trying to get him to buy some gay porn as well, but he keeps refusing to man up and take one for the team. I guess it doesn't help that we insist he uses his credit card.

Oh sure, you laugh at our brilliant ideas now, Mr. or Mrs. Internet Survivalist Hardass, but when we come up with the one that makes our fortunes in TEOTWAWKI you'll be thinking "Man, I wish I smoked weed and played dungeons and dragons."

You'll see. YOU'LL ALL SEE.