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The End is Near…

01 Jun

I can’t explain the clarity which consumes me.  People say I’ve found religion and that I’ve gone off the deep end.  Maybe I have, but that doesn’t mean I’m not right.  No one may be able to believe that now, but I will publish my research here and pray that it survives the lawless apocalypse.  One day, someone will find it.  One day, someone will read it.  If you’re that person, you’d probably be hard pressed to believe that I was once one of the most prestigious investigative journalists in the world.  There was a time I could craft a sentence flawlessly without thinking about it, but, after the visions started, I’m not even sure whether I’m living in the here and now or the future.  For the first time in my life, I’ll simply say: pardon my grammer.

I am so lost at this point that I can’t even get this ruggedized computer to show the correct date.  For some reason, it’s recording my journal entries starting in the year 2008 and I can’t reset it.  Forgive the glitchiness of this attempt but I must do what I can to keep the information preserved.  I just hope I’m able to come up with a better way to protect it in the future.

I’ve tried emailing my prize pupil, Jenna.  I thought she might believe me, but, like everyone else, she’s ignoring me.  Oh, Jenna, Jenna, Jenna…  I would have hoped more for you.

 
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Things to survive…

02 Jun

Whatever this time of unrest and destruction will be called by the survivors, I shall call it the “Cataclysm.”  In case someone finds this data terminal with it’s shielding, I will program in the information I discover that may help them survive.  I think this house will be secure.  It’s far from the cities which will be badly ravaged, close enough to the coast to be able to get wind for its small turbines and there’s enough sunlight for the solar panels to slowly gain power.  When the grid goes down, it should be able to retain power through these means, although I’ve stashed an alcohol generator just in case.  Further, I’ve got it set up on a combinant passalong so that these entries may be seeded to other computers in other secure locations in the world.  When the grid goes down, these terminals will have the greatest chance of staying operational.

I’ve been talking with men in the military and the police forces about what firearms to use to survive.  9mm caliber seem to be the best for handguns, as the most ammo is available for it.  I can only believe that there will still be some of these bullets left after the Cataclysm.  The military favors the Beretta M9 and it seems to be pretty rugged, but it has external safeties.  As such, for most civilians, I think the Glock 17 and 19s that law enforcement officers use is better.  When you need to defend your life, not having to remember to flip a safety is a good thing.

As such, I’ve acquired one and am slowly teaching myself how to shoot.  I’m not much of a shot, but I think I’m getting the hang of it.  I’ve found some videos online to help with my accuracy.  Hopefully there’s enough time before man goes mad for me to become proficient enough to stay alive.

Must remember to go to the store and get some more supplies.  They look at me strangely because I buy so many dried and pre-packaged foods.  I’m glad I saved so much from my wages as a war correspondant or I should never be able to afford these necessary things.

 
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The leadings to disaster…

10 Jun

I remember in 2010, when I heard the official rumblings of what was called the Internet Kill Switch bill.  It was designed to allow the president to shut down the internet and all the internet services in the United States of America.  When I read it then, it sent shivers down my spine.   It was specially designed for either a massive cyber attack or a concerted terrorist attack that included multiple U.S. cities.   I don’t yet know how many cities will be attacked, but I know that this is going to be one of the steps.  I know that eventually the U.S. will enact this legislation as well as even more restrictive ones over cell phones and televisions.  The outcry will be massive, the response on both sides will be catastrophic, and the bloodshed will wash our Nation like a tsunami.

No one believes me.  I’m just a crazy person living in an isolated house.  They point at me like I’m one of the Y2K crazies.  But I’m not.  I know that.

Fortunately, as I’ve been continuuing to work on my rangemanship (if that’s even a word!), I’ve gotten better at shooting.  I can now hit the target fairly consistently at 20 yards with my Glock.  Obviously, the adrenaline of being in combat is not something I’m yet prepared for.

 
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The wild boars…

18 Jun

I’ve had my first chance to try out my marksmanship.  The wild boars have continued to encroach on my land.  I know that since 2009 they’ve been growing in record numbers.  Wild and dangerous, they breed faster than they can be hunted and there are still men to hunt them.   I can’t even imagine what will happen to their population when this cataclysm I foresee occurs.

Two boars came upon my land late tonight, sharp tusks gleaming in the moonlight.  The moon was so full that I didn’t even need to use a flashlight, although the laser site I got for my handgun helped me be confidant before I pulled the trigger.  I’ve learned to fire multiple shots in rapid succession and was able to get three fired at the first boar.   He fell to the ground as his companion ran away, my rounds piercing it in the chest.

In case one of the other boars should rush upon me, I unslung my shotgun and holstered my pistol.  In an up close charge, a 12 gauge shotgun seems best.  Fortunately for me and my still meager skill in survival, none of the other razorbacks attempted to attack while I made my way to their fallen brother.

I brought with me a line of rope and tied up the hog’s legs.  I then rigged a harness around myself and slowly pulled the beast back.  Although this wasn’t the largest of the boars, it must easily have weighed 150 lb.  In the past, I was never one to develop my body as much as I had my mind, so I could no more have lifted it with my arms than flown to the moon.  I shall get some more sleep and, in the morning, I’ll search the internet to find out how to dress the beast.  I must make use of the knowledge that’s still available before the Grid goes down.  Perhaps I can hire one of the local hunters to teach me how to do this personally.

 
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Cleaning the beast…

19 Jun

Before working to get the boar cleaned, I decided I would try to draw the hog before I left.  The following is my limited iteration of the beast’s head.

Boar Head

As I knew I would prefer getting help from a real person and not the internet (and because I’m training myself to do things the old way), I drove into the town nearby to see if I could enlist one of the hunters that might be here for the plentiful game.  There’s a breakfast place  called Morty’s that both the truckers and the hunters seem to congregate at, so I decided that I would see who might help me with my kill.  Apparently, my current naiveté about guns and hunting is clear to the locals.  One of the waitresses, an older woman with yellowing teeth named Agnus, explained that there are no official hunting seasons in June.  (Of course, with the exceptions of year round animals, like coyotes, skunks, groundhogs, and the like.)  The last hunting season, which was for bearded turkeys, concluded over a month ago.   Agnus did point me in the direction of an old time woodsman named Pine Pete who had a cabin down the road, as he had lots of experience and might have the time.

Well, Agnus’ directions were a bit on the sparse side, so it took me the better part of an hour to find the man’s cabin.  As with so many houses out here, the house was in good shape and sported a nearly new Ford truck, but there was a barn behind it that looked like it was a hundred years old.   Pine Pete was in the back practicing archery, landing arrows in the side of a huge tree that had been painted with targeting circles.  He was probably in his sixties, although it was kind of hard to tell.   A life of chewing tobacco had yellowed his teeth and the scars that criss-crossed his face spoke of accidents that would have aged anyone.  He stopped his pursuits to chat with me and, with minimal compensation, decided he’d be willing to come to my house and help me dress the hog.  Before we left, he did caution me that, for an animal defense weapon, I would be wiser to get slugs for my 12 gauge shotgun, rather then trying to be precise with my Glock.  Had the other pig tried to charge me while I was shooting his companion, I would have found it much harder to kill him with my handgun.  I had no idea that you could get slugs, rather than buckshot, for a 12 gauge, but will make sure to pick some up the next time I’m buying ammo.

The next three hours were some of the bloodiest I’ve ever spent as we hung up the hog, skinned it, removed the organs, and then cut up the meat.  I had thought I had good sharp knives, but Pete showed me that mine were certainly not up to the task of butchering this hog.  Fortunately, he’d brought along a set of hand crafted blades he’d forged himself.  As we worked, he explained that he’d be very willing to make me a set for a little over the cost of materials.   As he’s a lifelong bachelor, he doesn’t have anyone to occupy his time, so it’s clear that he likes to have things to do to stay busy.  (He has a daughter, but he doesn’t like to talk much about her.  In that, I can understand.)  I told him I’d be happy to have him do so.

Once we got it butchered out, we were able to get about 70 pounds of meat out of it, which we then wrapped in butcher paper and stored in the massive freezers I have.   Pete was full of fascinating tales about why there are so many feral pigs these days and how they have soft fat, rather than hard fat, which basically means they yield leaner meat.  He even went on to say that the lean meat on wild animals like boars and venison is so lean that it’s actually possible to starve if you get nothing but that meat.  I’d never heard of such a thing and the reporter in me felt like I should have been taking notes, but I forced myself to just experience it as it happened.  While we ended up disposing of the unused skeleton and hooves, I did keep the hide, which Pete explains he’ll teach me how to tan, and the tusks.  I’m not sure how old this hog is, but it had fairly long tusks so it was probably older than normal.

I’ve included a drawing of one of the tusks.  This one I did with some chalks to see if I could make a more realistic image.

Drawing of Boar Tusk

 
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The Gold Standard…

26 Jun

Today I decided to begin cooking some of the wild boar meet Pete and I cleaned.  I decided to do a rather traditional boar stew with bacon, potatoes, carrots, onions, tomatoes, and a few secret spices I picked up from an Indonesian friend a few years ago.  Because Pete helped me clean it, I felt it was only appropriate to invite him over.  He brought a case of stout lager and we had a very flavorful meal.  He proclaimed it to be the best hog stew he’d had, which I take as quite a compliment due to the commonness of the dish.  The fat from the bacon really helped the lean boar meat, and I had to agree that it was quite good, as well.

As we reminisced about life and the state of the world, I decided to do something foolish and reveal some of my visions of the end.  Whether because he distrusts people or because he was a bit enebriated, he didn’t seem to think I was crazy, but rather that my insights were likely right on the money.  He mentioned the fact that, if what I was saying was true, we’d be wise to get our money out of the banks and converted into gold, as that’s more likely to hold its value after a cataclysm of this scale.  It may sound foolish, but I had completely overlooked such a simple way to retain some of my money.  Tomorrow I’ll begin to research where I can buy amounts of gold in quantity and make sure no new legislation has been brought up to make gold acquisition illegal.

 
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Golden rules…

30 Jun

I wish that purchasing gold bullion was easier than it is!  Goodness, you’d be surprised to know that there ever was a gold standard  in the U.S. with how hard it is to find from reputable locations.  In the end, I was forced to deal with the problem using the internet.  There are some reputable gold brokers online that were willing to sell me kilo goldbullion bars.  Of course, I’m not crazy about having tied up all of my assetts in an online transaction, because, besides trying to wean myself off the internet before the cataclysm occurs, the fact that I don’t know exactly when the events which will launch the end will take place fills me with dread.  By the time it gets shipped, the world might be completely eclipsed in the uprisings.  Still, I’ve got to try to do it now, and hope for the best.  If it arrives properly, I’ll have to liquidate my IRA that remains from CNN and Tribune days, take the early withdrawal penalties and taxes, and switch it out for more gold.

 
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The City Burns…

01 Jul

The dreams are back and I’m once again terrified.  If my earlier visions weren’t horrific enough, now I’m getting ones that are more vivid and fear-inducing.  And it’s made so much worse because I have no idea when they will come through!  What I wouldn’t give to have a real timeline, not just a sequence of events that I’ll recognize when they occur! 

In my dream, I’m in a city, standing on a building and I hear the shouts and screams below.  The people below are rioting, screaming, yelling.  Cops are doing their best to stave the people off, but the city is being ripped apart with fear, hate, and rage!  Someone throws a fire bomb which engulfs a car.  Someone else fires a gun and then a stampede ensues!  I hear the shrieks of children and the moans of those trampled beneath the throng.  My God, I scream, but no one hears.

I see angry men and women with banners painted with red which say, “Knights of Xeno.”  People carry signs with them that remind one another to tear down the oppression of technology and destroy power and internet relays!  I realize too late that they’ve come armed with grenades and pipe bomps.  Screaming obscenities, they fling their weapons at police, military, and civilians alike.  So tiny that, from my position, the bombs look like seeds, until they explode in fountains of fire, debris, and death.  In the midst of it all, I hear ground-rending explosion and one of the skyscrapers’ sides blows out from some hidden explosive.  This is no terrorist attack, it’s part of the chaos of the unrest.  On the street below, showers of glass shred people like a hail of razorblades.  As the smoke and fire belches from the buildings, I wake in a cold sweat.  This will one day occur, but, for now, that day is not yet.

To try to exorcise myself from these visions, I’m going to start trying to draw them. 

The Burning City

 
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Troubling thoughts…

03 Jul

After my troubling dream the other night, I’ve tried to research more and more information about anything that might give me a clue as to what city was in my dream or when this may occur.  The technology and architecture seemed identical, or at least very close, to what technology and architecture we have today.  As such, I assume that it’s safe to say that these things will happen in the immediate future.  However, as always, how immediate is highly questionable.

The only thing that stuck out that I could do research on was a group called, “The Knights of Xeno.”  I have not found any websites associated with this group, although I think it may be a misspelled translation of the philosopher “Zeno” who created paraodoxes by which reality was seen as impossible.  (For example, he believed that movement was impossible because, in order to move, any object must pass through an infinite number midpoints to do so.  As nothing can move through an infinite amount of anything, movement must be an illusion.)  It terrifies me if there are a group of people who are following a philospher like Zeno.  If they believe reality is an illusion, then they could capable of unspeakable acts of violent.  At times like this, I’m reminded of that old Chris Nolan film called Inception, in which one woman is so convinced that the world is a dream that she kills herself to wake up. 

I haven’t research the numerous social networking sites to see if I can find any of the precursors to this order.  Perhaps some have already given it its name.  If so, I might find where they are geographically most connected.  Or, they may only form after the government starts shutting down the internet.  It seems in keeping with the human condition that they might be so enfuriated with the government taking something that they’ve come to depend on away, that they destroy all elements of technology so that they won’t be in danger of it happening in the future.  Perhaps they’re in love with the ideas spoken of Chuck Palahniuk’s book, Fight Club, which glamorize the idea of destroying technology and the debt record associated with it.

My gold came today.  By many people’s minds, I had quite a nest egg in my savings accounts, but when it all comes down to 9 1 kilo bars and 32 1 oz bars, it feels quite meager indeed.  As the gold has arrived safely, I’ve called my accountant to liquidate my IRA, pay the penalties and taxes, and purchase gold with the remaining elements, all of which is to be sent to me here.   He says it should take three weeks to liquidate and another week for the gold to arrive.   I hope we have another month.

As I try to figure out what is to come, I can think only of a brilliant quote from a philosopher I respect:

“Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.”
~ Soren Kierkegaard

 
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4th of July nightmares…

04 Jul

It’s the fourth of July and I should be celebrating this nation’s birthday, and, instead, I weep over what’s to come.

As though my visions can’t leave me alone on a national holiday, I was wrenched from my sleep this morning in a cold sweat.  Before, I was atop a building during the riots.  Now I’m in another city and I’m right amidst the riots.  People shove and scream, pushing past me and crushing me into the throngs.  Police are nearby, holding riot gear and trying to hold back the people.  Sweat drips into their faces and across their eyelids, like tears of exhaustion.   Some have cuts from where shards of glass have been thrown.    A scream occurs behind me and I see an angry woman in a torn trench coat throw a glass bottle through the air.  Only as it bursts on the ground do I realize that it had a burning rag stuck into it!  As the molotov cocktail shatters, hurling flame and glass all around, a nearby pile of trash catches on fire and the crowd goes from hostile to stampeding.

In the rush, I’m knocked to the ground and feet stomp my back.  My breath bursts from my lungs and I can’t breathe.  In front of me, the silhouettes of the rioters freeze in slow motion and I know that I’m going to die.  My God, we all like to think that we are rational creatures, but, when we are denied the things we’ve become accustomed to, we are ravenous to spill blood.

Ink sketch of Riot

Unlike my last dream, there are no clues as to when this may occur or what special groups may be a part of it.  When tonight’s fireworks are visible in the distance, I will be thinking of the horrifying flames of my vision, rather than the celebration around me.

 
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