"You don't have to be an Old Testament prophet to see what's going on all around us. A belligerent lower class demanding handouts. A rapidly diminishing middle class crippled by police state bureaucracy. An aloof, ruling elite that has introduced us to an emerging totalitarianism which seeks control over every aspect of our lives."
Survival Seed Bank warns that the kind of fat cats who purchase their food from "grocery stores" are in for a shock: "Expect soaring prices along with moderate to severe shortages by spring." Oh no, it's spring right now! How can I prepare for this impending catastrophic famine while also asserting my agricultural independence?
The solution: Seeds! By stockpiling "super seeds" (which produce apocalypse-appropriate produce such as "bloody butcher corn"), plan-ahead sorts can subside during the inevitable collapse of the commercial food industry. But how will they defend their lush acreage against starvation-ravaged marauders? Guns, lots of guns. (Sold separately.)
Unsurprisingly, Ron Paul supporters approve.
Children. Small children.
The singer dove off the stage and crowd surfed in a sort of reverse funeral procession where the person being carried is the only one truly alive. Touching him I felt religious ecstasy and started speaking in tongues and requesting songs that didn't exist.
There's no easy way to put this, so I'll tell it like it is. Bouillon is died. He went missing before the weekend and yesterday I found his skeletonized remains at the bottom of the #3 soup vat during one of my swims. I thought the cream of mushroom soup had an especially nourishing taste, and a lot more clumps of fur and skin than usual.
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