Be sure to check out the videos!
http://www.humancar.com/overview.htm
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Saturday, February 21, 2009
LiteFoot
When I go up to my homestead, and I have to fire off a Cleveland Steamer? It's all about grabbing the rifle and the shovel and going off into the woods and digging a little grave and firing off that steamer and then shooting it so it dies a fast pleasant death, then covering it up afterwords. And that's what I like about LiteFoot (my homestead): It's simple. There's no infrastructure. You gotta fire an ass grenade at 3:00 in the morning? Go dig a grave. Thirsty? Better hope you packed the H2O, bro. Wanna chill? No worries mate - it's Chill Country up here. Anywhere will do. Set yourself down and crack that brewskie and relax into the forest. Morning beers are the best, too, and I don't know why. And I like pruning trees, and there are trees for as far as I can see, and they all need to be pruned.
You should buy some land and work it. Make sure it's far from the crowd, where the cops don't go.
You should buy some land and work it. Make sure it's far from the crowd, where the cops don't go.
*
Put your money up your butthole!
What I mean to say is, currency is doing badly right now. Word is that the Swiss franc is now sucking, and it's time to sell it. Not that I had any anyway. BUT, the Swiss franc is -- was -- the last stable currency, fer fuck sake. So, what to do with your bucks? A. You can stuff them up your butt. B. Or you can buy gold, silver, canned food & bullets. C. Or you can go travel while the dollar exchange rate rocks against the pound and the euro. Fuck yeah! Or shit, do it all, before the big TILT hits.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Somewhere South
I wanna live in a cave. Halfway up a rock cliff which no zombie can traverse. Being friends with the Eagles. Eating the little ground squirrels. Burning webs and sticks which fall from above, for heat in the inkblack night. Coyotes crawling 'round like hounds. Sitting in the fine dirt -- like sand -- in the shade of the overhang with the ruins of the ancients., i c no way this can b done, but still i want 2 do it. If U lived in OakTown, wouldn't you? What's stopping me is the gasoline for the journey south into the hot zone. .I always dream of electric cactus juice.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Wow!
2 websites for the off-grid frontiersman:
http://www.dwellingportably.com/
and
http://www.shedandshelter.com/
And the website for the zine Dwelling Portably:
http://www.microcosmpublishing.com/catalog/books/2336/
http://www.dwellingportably.com/
and
http://www.shedandshelter.com/
And the website for the zine Dwelling Portably:
http://www.microcosmpublishing.com/catalog/books/2336/
Monday, February 16, 2009
Useful East Bay Links
The Institute of Urban Homesteading offers classes on urban farming and food production:
http://www.sparkybeegirl.com/iuh.html
Urban Ore sells used building supplies, furniture, appliances, etc:
http://urbanore.ypguides.net/
The Crucible offers classes in welding, woodworking, blacksmithing, etc:
http://thecrucible.org/
Spiral Gardens Community Food Security Project is a beautiful urban neighborhood garden: http://www.spiralgardens.org/
Book Zoo is both a used bookstore and an underground cultural phenomenon: http://www.bookzoo.net/
Issues is a fantastic magazine shop that carries many underground/alternative architecture books and is run by the coolest couple ever: http://www.issuesshop.com/
http://www.sparkybeegirl.com/iuh.html
Urban Ore sells used building supplies, furniture, appliances, etc:
http://urbanore.ypguides.net/
The Crucible offers classes in welding, woodworking, blacksmithing, etc:
http://thecrucible.org/
Spiral Gardens Community Food Security Project is a beautiful urban neighborhood garden: http://www.spiralgardens.org/
Book Zoo is both a used bookstore and an underground cultural phenomenon: http://www.bookzoo.net/
Issues is a fantastic magazine shop that carries many underground/alternative architecture books and is run by the coolest couple ever: http://www.issuesshop.com/
Survival Investing
PUT YOUR EGGS IN MANY BASKETS.
Buy silver and gold. Both tangible bullion and online ishares. Buy silver bullion in the form of 1 oz silver rounds, and 90% silver coins. Buy gold in the form of Krugerrands, Pandas, Maple Leafs, Philharmonics, Koalas and/or Eagles. These government-minted coins generally come in 1 oz, 1/2 oz, 1/4 oz, 1/10th oz and (possibly) 1/20th oz denominations.
Invest some of your money in stocks. Choose these stocks very carefully. In the current economic climate, you might consider oil and energy stocks, gold mining stocks and mining stocks. You should be willing and able to sell these stocks at a moment's notice.
Set aside some savings in a savings account with a high interest rate. Choose your bank carefully. Check its rating on www.bankrate.com.
Set aside some savings in the form of cash. Include rolls of quarters, and 1s, 5s, 10s and 20 dollar bills. Keep this money split and stashed in several places. You might consider putting some in your BOB, some in your car and some in a safe or a secret hiding place. WHEN THE GRID GOES DOWN, YOUR ATM AND CREDIT CARDS WON'T WORK.
Buy tangibles: Guns, bullets, MREs, 30-year cans of freeze dried food, soap, seeds, land, a bicycle, hand tools, solar panels, camping gear, a dog, a cat, milk goats, chickens, etc.
Invest in skills. Take classes in gardening, primitive skills, survival, self-defense, gunsmithing, yoga, edible plant identification, carpentry, target shooting, nonviolent communication, bicycle repair, automotive maintenance, etc.
Pay off your debt.
Want professional advice for Peak Oil investing? Check out:
www.completeinvestor.com
Buy silver and gold. Both tangible bullion and online ishares. Buy silver bullion in the form of 1 oz silver rounds, and 90% silver coins. Buy gold in the form of Krugerrands, Pandas, Maple Leafs, Philharmonics, Koalas and/or Eagles. These government-minted coins generally come in 1 oz, 1/2 oz, 1/4 oz, 1/10th oz and (possibly) 1/20th oz denominations.
Invest some of your money in stocks. Choose these stocks very carefully. In the current economic climate, you might consider oil and energy stocks, gold mining stocks and mining stocks. You should be willing and able to sell these stocks at a moment's notice.
Set aside some savings in a savings account with a high interest rate. Choose your bank carefully. Check its rating on www.bankrate.com.
Set aside some savings in the form of cash. Include rolls of quarters, and 1s, 5s, 10s and 20 dollar bills. Keep this money split and stashed in several places. You might consider putting some in your BOB, some in your car and some in a safe or a secret hiding place. WHEN THE GRID GOES DOWN, YOUR ATM AND CREDIT CARDS WON'T WORK.
Buy tangibles: Guns, bullets, MREs, 30-year cans of freeze dried food, soap, seeds, land, a bicycle, hand tools, solar panels, camping gear, a dog, a cat, milk goats, chickens, etc.
Invest in skills. Take classes in gardening, primitive skills, survival, self-defense, gunsmithing, yoga, edible plant identification, carpentry, target shooting, nonviolent communication, bicycle repair, automotive maintenance, etc.
Pay off your debt.
Want professional advice for Peak Oil investing? Check out:
www.completeinvestor.com
There's A Black Angel At This Hippie Survivalist's Table
Shadow Cecilia -- aka Fluffy Girl -- is my daughter and my constant companion. I adopted her when she was still a kitten. It took me two months to tame her -- then I popped her in a cage and brought her home to my apartment, where she now resides. Shadow is an exceptional feline specimen: Jet black with yellow eyes and pointed ears and a wet nose, and quite fluffy. She wears the pants in our household, and if I act according to my own wishes and not hers, I pay the price. I must constantly remind here that WE DON'T SCRATCH THE PEOPLE WE LUV, WE LUV THE PEOPLE WE LUV! All the tomcats in the neighborhood are madly in luv with her, and I must drive them away with a broom to keep her honor -- and mine -- intact. This task never ends!
But I'm here to talk shop. You see, Shadz is a survivalist's wet dream of a pet. She's priceless. She provides eggs, milk, wool, security, warmth and stress-eliminating cuddles. Actually, she harbors special snugglebug powers which defy easy description. Sleeping with her is like sleeping with God. And woe to the unwary -- her claws are like shards of glass, and she's not afraid to use them. Her beserker personality ensures that any aggressive intruder -- and possibly even innocent old me! -- will be slashed to ribbons in mere seconds. So, I'm here to sell you on cats. Consider a cat a sound investment. And if you find her eggs too small, or her milk to meager, accrue a small herd of kittehs. All you have to do is water them and throw them each a half-cup of kibble a day, and they will surround you with their own special brand of abundance.
But I'm here to talk shop. You see, Shadz is a survivalist's wet dream of a pet. She's priceless. She provides eggs, milk, wool, security, warmth and stress-eliminating cuddles. Actually, she harbors special snugglebug powers which defy easy description. Sleeping with her is like sleeping with God. And woe to the unwary -- her claws are like shards of glass, and she's not afraid to use them. Her beserker personality ensures that any aggressive intruder -- and possibly even innocent old me! -- will be slashed to ribbons in mere seconds. So, I'm here to sell you on cats. Consider a cat a sound investment. And if you find her eggs too small, or her milk to meager, accrue a small herd of kittehs. All you have to do is water them and throw them each a half-cup of kibble a day, and they will surround you with their own special brand of abundance.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
What Do You Do With Dead Zombies?
Tuesday May ?? 2019
We've been trapped inside this derelict Taco Hell fast food joint in Shitsberg for ten days now, and I've begun wiping my ass with my left hand and eating with my right. That just came naturally, after we ran out of TP about a week ago. Luckily, we still have plenty of canned food, H20 and ammo for our Big Guns. But that's all beside the point. The problem we're having is not with braining the zombies that crash through the boarded-up windows, it's what to do with them once we brain them. We've stacked them 8-high in front of the glass doors, and piled them up on the roof, but now the ceiling is bowed. We tried to burn some in the dumpster, but without gasoline they wouldn't catch fire. In case you don't know it, dead zombies smell REALLY bad and their slippery red brains get everywhere. I think we can survive this EOTW scenario, if only we can figure out how to dispose of all these dead zombies, and all their soon-to-be-dead undead friends who will soon have their brains smashed in.
Later…
Me and Jezebeth have been putting hairnets on the dead zombies, to keep their brains from greasing up the floor. It works like a charm. And if they have smashed hands we put gloves on them, to keep their brains from leaking out of their fingertips.
One time I put a hairnet on a live zombie BEFORE I smashed his head in. It didn't make a mess.
Later still…
Did I mention that some of the dead zombies in our little Taco Hellhole are pooping out of their necks? I probably did already.
Much later…
The zombies outside never stop moaning. We put wet taco wrappers in our ears, but it’s slowly driving us all mad.
Wednesday May ?? 2019
We are just SO FULL OF DEAD ZOMBIES in here! There is a tire shop across the way...we may have to make a run for it and set up new digs. Luckily, these are slow zombies, so we stand a good chance of successfully kung fu-ing and hockey-sticking our way thru the mob. Maybe if we make it to the tire shop we can lay tomorrow's dead zombies on top of piles of tires and nuke ‘em like that.
Thursday May ?? 2019
Our attempt at relocation failed catastrophically. Jimmy jumped the fence in the middle of the night and ‘jacked an abandoned squad car over on Fifth Street, but on the way back he accidentally blew it up while chucking a torch at a Stinker. There went our bugout vehicle. Jimmy burned his shoes off but made it back alive. Thank Gosh!
Later…
The space situation has become dire. There are dead zombies literally piled up in every nook and cranny of this fortified hellhole. We put napkins in our noses but it doesn’t really stop the smell. Everyone else is sleeping in hammocks. Me, I don’t have a hammock, so I have to sleep on a dead zombie each night.
Way later…
Me and Squeaky were manning the Big Guns, and Squeaky had an epiphany. Maybe we can eat the dead Stinks? It’d get rid of them, and keep us in protein at the same time. We ARE getting low on canned meat. If we can eat these buggers (did I say buggers, or burgers?), we can outlive them! But, will we turn into zombies if we eat them? Or, will we turn into zombies if we eat NOT-FULLY-COOKED zombies? There are risks. It’s late. My trigger finger is sore. Tomorrow we test.
Friday May ?? 2019
Day 13 in Taco Hell, and what do we have to show for it except our gaunt, haggard faces and two dead zombies more than there need to be?
Jezebeth forced the Chihuahua to eat a torched Stink limb at dawn. It turned, and Persepolis brained the bitch with a frying pan. We debated whether the meat was fully cooked, and decided it was only medium-rare, not medium-well. Then, Johnny Raj had the bright idea of slow-cooking a Stink finger all day long in a hot curry sauce with chickpeas, so that there wouldn’t be the slightest chance of undercooking, which we did. Johnny willfully ate the meat in the late afternoon. By dusk, he was moaning the Bhagavad Gita backwards, and trying to bust out of his restraints. He turned at sunset, and we brained him with a hockey stick by the light of the full moon.
We lost two really good troopers today. Actually, the Chihuahua was a pain in the ass if you want to know the truth (all Chihuahuas are), but Johnny Raj was stand-up. Seven of us remain.
Later…
Persepolis just had an idea. There’s oil in the fryers and in a waste barrel in the janitor’s closet, why not use it as an accelerant to make the dead Stinks burn?
Saturday May ?? 2019
Empenada oil works wonders...we've been burning zombies all day and night in the dumpster to great effect. Smells like French fries cooking! Also, Boris devised a flaming oil-filled burrito bomb that lights the live Stinks up like Tiki torches. We tossed a bunch off the roof and Dorito played Hells Bells on the boom box while we watched the flaming Stinks dance and shake.
Sunday May ?? 2019
Did you know that in this EOTW scenario I am actually bald, and my long hair is in fact a Spec-Ops wig that has saved my ass several times now when zombies reached thru the drive-thru window and grabbed my pony tail and merely pulled my wig off rather than pulling ME out thru the order-hole into their stinking, ghastly outstretched arms of revolting, painful horror and undeath?
There’s a lot of elbowroom in this Taco Hell now that we cleared the place of dead Stinkers!
Later…
Crawlers are the worst. When zombies loose their legs they are WAY more dangerous than regular Stinks. Crawlers sneak up on you and usually sink their teeth into your ankle before you even know they are there. Then begins your slow journey into madness, death and zombiehood. I personally saw this happen to Jocko Croft on the day we arrived at this Taco Hell, and I had to brain him with a brick and throw his carcass to the zombies, even though he and I went to college together, and both dated Zilla Fritz, and knew each other for eleven years.
Tuesday May ?? 2019
We ran out of fryer grease today. The dead Stinks are piling up again. The Big Guns are running dangerously low on ammo. Also, Boris got bit on the nuts by a Stinker last night, and Dorito had to knock his block off with a rock-filled sock.
Later…
The Big Guns both ran out of ammo within minutes of each other, enabling the zombie horde to storm our Alamo en masse…thank Gosh we all made it onto the roof intact, along with several cases of food and our remaining weapons and ammo. No water, though.
Much later...
Want to know what sucks? Trying to sleep on a dirty, crowded, sagging Taco Hell rooftop while you’re sucking on a tar-covered roof pebble to keep your thirst at bay AND you’re listening to the wailing and scratching of 439 hunger-crazed zombies beneath you.
Wednesday May ?? 2019
Good news is, it rained. Bad news is, it rained.
Later…
What to do with dead zombies? There aren't any ocean cliffs around here, so I can't lead the Stinks off a cliff like lemmings, to slowly decompose in the salty brine. But, imaginationally speaking, if I were to mount a war stallion and lead a herd of zombies off, say, the top level of a parking garage, I could then pour soydiesel on their smooshed remains and set them alight, or, perhaps, throw dynamite on them and blow them to smithereens. At least, these are possibilities. It gives me hope, writing this. Thank Gosh this is an EOTW scenario with slow zombies!
Laterer…
Toying with the idea of a brain-on-a-stick, a Pied Piper-ish apparatus to lead zombies to their doom…
Much more later…
I did it. Tied a brain to a stick. We've been taunting the zombies all day by dangling the brain over the edge of the roof just out of reach of their rotting hands. It's sort of like a reverse piñata, works like a charm. Unfortunately, Jimmy lost his balance while playing, and fell onto the Stinkers, and they ate his heart and brains out, so now we have one less defender...BUT, Jezebeth managed to save the brain-on-a-stick :-).
Thursday May ?? 2019
Just when you think everything sucks so bad it can’t suck any worse, it gets suckier. Like, try maintaining your dignity while crapping off the side of a small rooftop, in the rain, with five other people watching you, and fifty disgusting zombie hands reaching for your butt the whole time. And then, having to wipe with your left hand – HAND – because there’s no TP. And then, washing your hand with your own pee-pee because there’s no water. At least the pee-pee was warm. I’m sorry I had to write this, but it’s the truth, and writing it helps keep me sane, SHMG.
?? ?? ?? 2019
No water for 2 days now. Dang, we’re thirsty.
?? ?? ?? 2019
We took back the Alamo. Dropped down thru the access hole into the kitchen with all our weapons, and spent 20 minutes frenetically blowing heads off and bashing brains in. We ran out of water days ago, so we had to. Now we’re out of ammo, down to hockey sticks and bricks. This place is flowing with blood and guts. We stacked the dead zombies two-thick and nine-high all along the windows and doors. Thank Gosh the faucets are still working – we were all badly dehydrated. But without any ammo, we can’t hold out long.
Later…
Lost track of what day it is.
?? ?? ?? 2019
The history of the Zombie Wars will be written in the very brain juice of the Stinks themselves, with mine own middle finger, which I shall use as a veritable "Fuck You" stylus, on the lead-painted and blood-splattered cinderblock walls of this Taco Hell Alamo where Humanity -- me, Persepolis, Squeaky, Jezebeth and Dorito -- makes its Final Stand (in this particular EOTW scenario).
?? ?? ?? 2019
No idea what day it is. We busted out of Taco Hell with our last cans of food, and brained our way across the street, into the tire shop. We’re barricaded in here now, with much more room than we had in the Hellhole. We all made it. Not much food, but the sink works, thank Gosh.
Later…
We lost the brain-on-a-stick in the fight to get here.
?? ?? ?? 2019
We’ve been resting for the past few days. This garage is so secure that the Stinks can’t break in. Last night Dorito and Squeaky stole across the rooftops to the market at the end of the block, and managed to bring back enough food for a meal, and TP. TP! We feasted on crackers and ham and Twinkies. It’s nice to eat with both hands again.
?? ?? ?? 2019
There isn’t any electricity in here, of course. It went out weeks ago. But there’s a big electric truck, one of these Fjord F350s with picket sides and a quad cab. Dorito says it would make an excellent fortified wagon, if only we had stallions to pull it with.
Later…
Persepolis had another bright idea. Squeaky and Dorito are lightening the truck up by removing its motor and batteries. We tied another brain to a stick.
?? ?? ?? 2019
Goodbye, Shitsberg! We did it. No time for all the details, but we hitched a 12-pack of zombies to the front of our truck, and hung the brain-on-a-stick in front of them, and they are hauling our tired asses into the stink and gloom right now, towards a far-off better place called San Diego, where we hope to commandeer a derelict yacht and float to some untainted tropical paradise island that still has hot, nude, bi sunbather chicks on it, so we can live out the rest of our days fishing and fucking on the sun-warmed beach.
Who needs dead zombies, anyway? Leave them undead and make them do the shit-work for you.
Later…
If you don’t hear from me again, it means I either got brained en route, or we made it†
We've been trapped inside this derelict Taco Hell fast food joint in Shitsberg for ten days now, and I've begun wiping my ass with my left hand and eating with my right. That just came naturally, after we ran out of TP about a week ago. Luckily, we still have plenty of canned food, H20 and ammo for our Big Guns. But that's all beside the point. The problem we're having is not with braining the zombies that crash through the boarded-up windows, it's what to do with them once we brain them. We've stacked them 8-high in front of the glass doors, and piled them up on the roof, but now the ceiling is bowed. We tried to burn some in the dumpster, but without gasoline they wouldn't catch fire. In case you don't know it, dead zombies smell REALLY bad and their slippery red brains get everywhere. I think we can survive this EOTW scenario, if only we can figure out how to dispose of all these dead zombies, and all their soon-to-be-dead undead friends who will soon have their brains smashed in.
Later…
Me and Jezebeth have been putting hairnets on the dead zombies, to keep their brains from greasing up the floor. It works like a charm. And if they have smashed hands we put gloves on them, to keep their brains from leaking out of their fingertips.
One time I put a hairnet on a live zombie BEFORE I smashed his head in. It didn't make a mess.
Later still…
Did I mention that some of the dead zombies in our little Taco Hellhole are pooping out of their necks? I probably did already.
Much later…
The zombies outside never stop moaning. We put wet taco wrappers in our ears, but it’s slowly driving us all mad.
Wednesday May ?? 2019
We are just SO FULL OF DEAD ZOMBIES in here! There is a tire shop across the way...we may have to make a run for it and set up new digs. Luckily, these are slow zombies, so we stand a good chance of successfully kung fu-ing and hockey-sticking our way thru the mob. Maybe if we make it to the tire shop we can lay tomorrow's dead zombies on top of piles of tires and nuke ‘em like that.
Thursday May ?? 2019
Our attempt at relocation failed catastrophically. Jimmy jumped the fence in the middle of the night and ‘jacked an abandoned squad car over on Fifth Street, but on the way back he accidentally blew it up while chucking a torch at a Stinker. There went our bugout vehicle. Jimmy burned his shoes off but made it back alive. Thank Gosh!
Later…
The space situation has become dire. There are dead zombies literally piled up in every nook and cranny of this fortified hellhole. We put napkins in our noses but it doesn’t really stop the smell. Everyone else is sleeping in hammocks. Me, I don’t have a hammock, so I have to sleep on a dead zombie each night.
Way later…
Me and Squeaky were manning the Big Guns, and Squeaky had an epiphany. Maybe we can eat the dead Stinks? It’d get rid of them, and keep us in protein at the same time. We ARE getting low on canned meat. If we can eat these buggers (did I say buggers, or burgers?), we can outlive them! But, will we turn into zombies if we eat them? Or, will we turn into zombies if we eat NOT-FULLY-COOKED zombies? There are risks. It’s late. My trigger finger is sore. Tomorrow we test.
Friday May ?? 2019
Day 13 in Taco Hell, and what do we have to show for it except our gaunt, haggard faces and two dead zombies more than there need to be?
Jezebeth forced the Chihuahua to eat a torched Stink limb at dawn. It turned, and Persepolis brained the bitch with a frying pan. We debated whether the meat was fully cooked, and decided it was only medium-rare, not medium-well. Then, Johnny Raj had the bright idea of slow-cooking a Stink finger all day long in a hot curry sauce with chickpeas, so that there wouldn’t be the slightest chance of undercooking, which we did. Johnny willfully ate the meat in the late afternoon. By dusk, he was moaning the Bhagavad Gita backwards, and trying to bust out of his restraints. He turned at sunset, and we brained him with a hockey stick by the light of the full moon.
We lost two really good troopers today. Actually, the Chihuahua was a pain in the ass if you want to know the truth (all Chihuahuas are), but Johnny Raj was stand-up. Seven of us remain.
Later…
Persepolis just had an idea. There’s oil in the fryers and in a waste barrel in the janitor’s closet, why not use it as an accelerant to make the dead Stinks burn?
Saturday May ?? 2019
Empenada oil works wonders...we've been burning zombies all day and night in the dumpster to great effect. Smells like French fries cooking! Also, Boris devised a flaming oil-filled burrito bomb that lights the live Stinks up like Tiki torches. We tossed a bunch off the roof and Dorito played Hells Bells on the boom box while we watched the flaming Stinks dance and shake.
Sunday May ?? 2019
Did you know that in this EOTW scenario I am actually bald, and my long hair is in fact a Spec-Ops wig that has saved my ass several times now when zombies reached thru the drive-thru window and grabbed my pony tail and merely pulled my wig off rather than pulling ME out thru the order-hole into their stinking, ghastly outstretched arms of revolting, painful horror and undeath?
There’s a lot of elbowroom in this Taco Hell now that we cleared the place of dead Stinkers!
Later…
Crawlers are the worst. When zombies loose their legs they are WAY more dangerous than regular Stinks. Crawlers sneak up on you and usually sink their teeth into your ankle before you even know they are there. Then begins your slow journey into madness, death and zombiehood. I personally saw this happen to Jocko Croft on the day we arrived at this Taco Hell, and I had to brain him with a brick and throw his carcass to the zombies, even though he and I went to college together, and both dated Zilla Fritz, and knew each other for eleven years.
Tuesday May ?? 2019
We ran out of fryer grease today. The dead Stinks are piling up again. The Big Guns are running dangerously low on ammo. Also, Boris got bit on the nuts by a Stinker last night, and Dorito had to knock his block off with a rock-filled sock.
Later…
The Big Guns both ran out of ammo within minutes of each other, enabling the zombie horde to storm our Alamo en masse…thank Gosh we all made it onto the roof intact, along with several cases of food and our remaining weapons and ammo. No water, though.
Much later...
Want to know what sucks? Trying to sleep on a dirty, crowded, sagging Taco Hell rooftop while you’re sucking on a tar-covered roof pebble to keep your thirst at bay AND you’re listening to the wailing and scratching of 439 hunger-crazed zombies beneath you.
Wednesday May ?? 2019
Good news is, it rained. Bad news is, it rained.
Later…
What to do with dead zombies? There aren't any ocean cliffs around here, so I can't lead the Stinks off a cliff like lemmings, to slowly decompose in the salty brine. But, imaginationally speaking, if I were to mount a war stallion and lead a herd of zombies off, say, the top level of a parking garage, I could then pour soydiesel on their smooshed remains and set them alight, or, perhaps, throw dynamite on them and blow them to smithereens. At least, these are possibilities. It gives me hope, writing this. Thank Gosh this is an EOTW scenario with slow zombies!
Laterer…
Toying with the idea of a brain-on-a-stick, a Pied Piper-ish apparatus to lead zombies to their doom…
Much more later…
I did it. Tied a brain to a stick. We've been taunting the zombies all day by dangling the brain over the edge of the roof just out of reach of their rotting hands. It's sort of like a reverse piñata, works like a charm. Unfortunately, Jimmy lost his balance while playing, and fell onto the Stinkers, and they ate his heart and brains out, so now we have one less defender...BUT, Jezebeth managed to save the brain-on-a-stick :-).
Thursday May ?? 2019
Just when you think everything sucks so bad it can’t suck any worse, it gets suckier. Like, try maintaining your dignity while crapping off the side of a small rooftop, in the rain, with five other people watching you, and fifty disgusting zombie hands reaching for your butt the whole time. And then, having to wipe with your left hand – HAND – because there’s no TP. And then, washing your hand with your own pee-pee because there’s no water. At least the pee-pee was warm. I’m sorry I had to write this, but it’s the truth, and writing it helps keep me sane, SHMG.
?? ?? ?? 2019
No water for 2 days now. Dang, we’re thirsty.
?? ?? ?? 2019
We took back the Alamo. Dropped down thru the access hole into the kitchen with all our weapons, and spent 20 minutes frenetically blowing heads off and bashing brains in. We ran out of water days ago, so we had to. Now we’re out of ammo, down to hockey sticks and bricks. This place is flowing with blood and guts. We stacked the dead zombies two-thick and nine-high all along the windows and doors. Thank Gosh the faucets are still working – we were all badly dehydrated. But without any ammo, we can’t hold out long.
Later…
Lost track of what day it is.
?? ?? ?? 2019
The history of the Zombie Wars will be written in the very brain juice of the Stinks themselves, with mine own middle finger, which I shall use as a veritable "Fuck You" stylus, on the lead-painted and blood-splattered cinderblock walls of this Taco Hell Alamo where Humanity -- me, Persepolis, Squeaky, Jezebeth and Dorito -- makes its Final Stand (in this particular EOTW scenario).
?? ?? ?? 2019
No idea what day it is. We busted out of Taco Hell with our last cans of food, and brained our way across the street, into the tire shop. We’re barricaded in here now, with much more room than we had in the Hellhole. We all made it. Not much food, but the sink works, thank Gosh.
Later…
We lost the brain-on-a-stick in the fight to get here.
?? ?? ?? 2019
We’ve been resting for the past few days. This garage is so secure that the Stinks can’t break in. Last night Dorito and Squeaky stole across the rooftops to the market at the end of the block, and managed to bring back enough food for a meal, and TP. TP! We feasted on crackers and ham and Twinkies. It’s nice to eat with both hands again.
?? ?? ?? 2019
There isn’t any electricity in here, of course. It went out weeks ago. But there’s a big electric truck, one of these Fjord F350s with picket sides and a quad cab. Dorito says it would make an excellent fortified wagon, if only we had stallions to pull it with.
Later…
Persepolis had another bright idea. Squeaky and Dorito are lightening the truck up by removing its motor and batteries. We tied another brain to a stick.
?? ?? ?? 2019
Goodbye, Shitsberg! We did it. No time for all the details, but we hitched a 12-pack of zombies to the front of our truck, and hung the brain-on-a-stick in front of them, and they are hauling our tired asses into the stink and gloom right now, towards a far-off better place called San Diego, where we hope to commandeer a derelict yacht and float to some untainted tropical paradise island that still has hot, nude, bi sunbather chicks on it, so we can live out the rest of our days fishing and fucking on the sun-warmed beach.
Who needs dead zombies, anyway? Leave them undead and make them do the shit-work for you.
Later…
If you don’t hear from me again, it means I either got brained en route, or we made it†
Saturday, February 14, 2009
My Balls
Sometimes I wake up and I don't feel like a hippie at all. I just wanna kill, goddammit. I want bacon and eggs and a river of hot blood for breakfast. This is something that chicks are never gonna get. Cuz it's my balls that make me feel that way. And chicks don't have balls. Chicks are never gonna get the gun thing, either. Shit, I can eat salad til the tofu crawls home, and talk about cooking and knitting til I'm blue in the balls...but that doesn't make my balls magically disappear now, does it? So ladies, please try to understand that GUNS AND MOTORCYCLES ARE THE RESULT OF BALL ENERGY, and there's not a goddamn thing I can do about it, except maybe shave my balls. And for Christ's sake serve me a steak, will ya? A salad isn't food, it's grass with sauce on top!
Strange Factoids from the Freak Farm
Did you know?
We are told that farm animals are poor protein converters. That we put far more corn protein into a cow than we get out as meat. That we'd be better off not eating beef at all, but rather just eating the corn itself, because that corn would feed more people. BUT...cows are grass-eating animals. They do not naturally eat corn. COWS RAISED ON GRASS DO NOT REQUIRE ANY CORN PROTEIN. The cows convert the grass - which is indigestible to humans -- into protein. Allowing us to ALSO grow that feed corn, and eat it all ourselves.
Did you know?
We are told that there are only two sources of Omega 3 fatty acids -- fish oil and flax seed oil. BUT...GRASS-FED BEEF ALSO CONTAINS OMEGA 3 FATTY ACIDS.
We are told that farm animals are poor protein converters. That we put far more corn protein into a cow than we get out as meat. That we'd be better off not eating beef at all, but rather just eating the corn itself, because that corn would feed more people. BUT...cows are grass-eating animals. They do not naturally eat corn. COWS RAISED ON GRASS DO NOT REQUIRE ANY CORN PROTEIN. The cows convert the grass - which is indigestible to humans -- into protein. Allowing us to ALSO grow that feed corn, and eat it all ourselves.
Did you know?
We are told that there are only two sources of Omega 3 fatty acids -- fish oil and flax seed oil. BUT...GRASS-FED BEEF ALSO CONTAINS OMEGA 3 FATTY ACIDS.
How to Increase Your Fuel Efficiency By 12x
Dmitri Orlov summed it up at Fort Mason last night when he said, "You know how you increase gas mileage by 12x? Not by buying a new car that gets better gas mileage! You do it by putting 12 passengers in the back of your truck and driving 25 mph down the highway!"
Revolutionary words.
Revolutionary words.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Primitive Skills
I urge you to take primitive skills classes. Learn to make cord out of plant fiber. Learn to identify edible and useful local plants. Learn to make fire with sticks and stones. Become proficient at making shelters. These skills are enormously fun and useful. They are the baseline for all survival skills, IMHO. You can go online and find schools all over the United States that will teach you these things. I have taken courses at Headwaters Outdoor School, in both Shasta and Santa Cruz. Those were wonderful experiences. There is also a school in Northern Arizona called Ancient Pathways that I would like to check out. It offers walkabouts in the wilds of Bluff, Utah: http://apathways.com/
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Firearms and Hand Weapons Are BOTH Part of A Balanced Hippie Survivalist Diet
Modern survivalists worship at the altar of the firearm, and that doesn't rub me in all the right places. In fact, it makes my nuts itch. Guns -- like tattoos and crack cocaine -- are addictive. They make voluminous amounts of noise, and need to be reloaded. They jam. They waste -- and run out of -- ammunition. They blind you at night. They weigh you down, and impede your movements. So, while I agree that firearms are indispensable, I am also an advocate of hand weapons. By which I mean knives, clubs, bows & arrows, crossbows, tomahawks, spears and all those other cool primitive/medieval tools of death, which -- LIKE FIREARMS -- can be used in the gleeful pursuit of offense, defense and meat procurement. In MY Tribe, each fighter will carry a firearm, a hand weapon, and a knife (and btw, big knives are not usually necessary - high carbon steel Mora's work just fine).
Tribes & Villages
The Tribe is the perfect societal construct for life after TSHTF. Its flexibility is its strength. Elders are revered for their wisdom, which is derived from their long life experiences. Children are raised semi-communally. Families are interdependent. Each person is part of the whole, and knows that that is where strength lies. The Children of the Tribe are semi-wild, but not barbaric. They learn to be useful at a young age, and grow to be resourceful, conscientious and, when necessary, fierce. They are protective of their own. The Children of the Tribe are their own tribe, in miniature. They spend a good deal of time away from the adults, teaching and looking after one another, and learning the ways of the land. They hunt, play, forage, garden, read, learn to cook and use weapons, tame wild animals into pets. They are responsible. They are not afraid, and, when pressed, will stand their ground and not back down.
The Tribe lives in the Village, which consists of simple, fortified structures spread across the forest. Every member of the Tribe is armed at all times, and sentries are always posted. When the Enemy attacks, the members of the Tribe stand their ground, or melt back, as necessary. They can blow up parts of the Village if needed. They operate in independent cells. They can flee the Village altogether. The Village itself is not necessary, it merely provides a framework for productive day-to-day life.
Oh, shit, gotta run: The cat's on fire! More though, soon.
The Tribe lives in the Village, which consists of simple, fortified structures spread across the forest. Every member of the Tribe is armed at all times, and sentries are always posted. When the Enemy attacks, the members of the Tribe stand their ground, or melt back, as necessary. They can blow up parts of the Village if needed. They operate in independent cells. They can flee the Village altogether. The Village itself is not necessary, it merely provides a framework for productive day-to-day life.
Oh, shit, gotta run: The cat's on fire! More though, soon.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Howdah: The Promise and Peril of the World's Most Badass Hippie Firearm
I clutch in my gray mandibles a Pedersoli Howdah. What is it, you ask? Well, take a look: It's a double barrel 20 gauge muzzle-loading pistol shotgun. Looks just like Mad Max's pistol, only it has hammers, and the barrels don't break. It was made in Italy (and well-made, I might add), purchased over the internet, and resides in California. All perfectly legal. It's an ass-kicker of a weapon, perfect for protecting the home or the car while TS is HTF. Keep it on the couch next to you while you watch the tube at night. When those two junkie motherfucks from four houses down kick your front door in, you just grab'n'shoot - aiming is not required. Barrel number one blows yon punk off his feet and sets him down near the bay window with a belly full of BBs. Barrel number two hits the second idiot in the chest, and the ball-and-pellet combo kills him inside of two seconds. He's dead before he hits the ground. And the Howdah can keep you company at night, too. Just be sure not to blow your own feet off when you fire it at the zombie sillouhette in the doorframe. And when society begins to crumble, the Howdah will make an excellent addition to your car. Gangbangers coming at you on foot from across the interestion? Roll down your window and say: BOOM BOOM. Then hit the gas and get away.
The beauty of the Howdah is that it defies easy definition. It is a Mad Max punk gun, a pirate pistol, and a work of art to behold and use. Loading it is a ritual. The accouterments - the powder flask, powder measure, patches and other required gear -- have a dated flair. It's a hippie gun because it's an artist's gun. Pedersoli offers three varieties for the consummate Defender: dual 20 gauge barrels, dual .50 caliber barrels, and a 20x50 combo. Howdah pistols were originally used by the British in nineteenth century India, to repel attacking tigers from the tops of elephants. Mine is a reproduction of a mid-1800's model. Gone missing for the last 150 years, the Howdah pistol appears to be back in style. Get one while you can.
The beauty of the Howdah is that it defies easy definition. It is a Mad Max punk gun, a pirate pistol, and a work of art to behold and use. Loading it is a ritual. The accouterments - the powder flask, powder measure, patches and other required gear -- have a dated flair. It's a hippie gun because it's an artist's gun. Pedersoli offers three varieties for the consummate Defender: dual 20 gauge barrels, dual .50 caliber barrels, and a 20x50 combo. Howdah pistols were originally used by the British in nineteenth century India, to repel attacking tigers from the tops of elephants. Mine is a reproduction of a mid-1800's model. Gone missing for the last 150 years, the Howdah pistol appears to be back in style. Get one while you can.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Time Travel
The Hippie Survivalist was also known as The Time Travel Kid, because he mastered the art of time travel. It was something he learned from reading a book by a very (in)famous author. During his travels, The Kid figured out some of the rules of the road. Rule #1 was: Draw no conclusions from the road you are on. Drawing maps, however, is permitted. Rule #2 was: SUSPEND YOUR DISBELIEF. There were other rules, but we have to start somewhere. We'll get back this in the near future.
The Death Soldiers, Part II
I'm sorry to have brought up The Death Soldiers, but there is so much more to be said. I ran with them, several decades back, in a past life. That was quite a long time ago, now. It's funny, because, I ran with them, and fought with them, and died with them, but I was not one of them. And they knew that. But they did not care. They did not care at all. I saved them, and they saved me, and it all happened repeatedly, as we burned up that corduroy trunk road East, into infinity.
WOULD YOU HAVE PLAYED THE PIANO AND TOLD JOKES IN THE BACK OF THAT TROOP CARRIER ON RUSSIA'S WESTERN STEPPES IN DECEMBER 1943 WHILE STARVING TO DEATH IN THE ZERO-DEGREE BLOWING SNOW AND THE ENDLESS MISSILE BARRAGES? NO! YOU WOULD HAVE FOUGHT FOR YOUR LIFE LIKE YOU WERE A CRAZED KILLER WITH A KNIFE IN EACH HAND AND ONE IN YOUR BACK! SO FUCK YOU, SHUT UP AND LISTEN!
Perhaps this blog is not about The Hippie Survivalist at all.
I fought with The Death Soldiers, and we were fearsome to behold. I did not wear a white skeleton mask, nor did I fire Deadly Electrified Death Darts. And I wore gray, not black. A commando, I was. I was never able to manifest myself out of thin air, nor could I stretch and distort my physical form. But as for the Cold Breath exercises.... I did not skin civilians alive, and eat their eyes, and leave their bones to freeze and die. But there were only two options: Fight, or die. So, I killed many, many men, and blew half a city into smoke and gravel. And would you believe? I was a hero to the soldiers around me.
These days, I am called the Hippie Survivalist. My soul is filled stars. Most of them are gold, but there is one Death Star inside me. The Death Dealers put it there, all those years ago. It's like a passport to their world, a peephole. We see each other, always. Watching, watching. But they still don't want to kill me, and I still don't know why. Maybe I'm the guy who's supposed to tell this story?
WOULD YOU HAVE PLAYED THE PIANO AND TOLD JOKES IN THE BACK OF THAT TROOP CARRIER ON RUSSIA'S WESTERN STEPPES IN DECEMBER 1943 WHILE STARVING TO DEATH IN THE ZERO-DEGREE BLOWING SNOW AND THE ENDLESS MISSILE BARRAGES? NO! YOU WOULD HAVE FOUGHT FOR YOUR LIFE LIKE YOU WERE A CRAZED KILLER WITH A KNIFE IN EACH HAND AND ONE IN YOUR BACK! SO FUCK YOU, SHUT UP AND LISTEN!
Perhaps this blog is not about The Hippie Survivalist at all.
I fought with The Death Soldiers, and we were fearsome to behold. I did not wear a white skeleton mask, nor did I fire Deadly Electrified Death Darts. And I wore gray, not black. A commando, I was. I was never able to manifest myself out of thin air, nor could I stretch and distort my physical form. But as for the Cold Breath exercises.... I did not skin civilians alive, and eat their eyes, and leave their bones to freeze and die. But there were only two options: Fight, or die. So, I killed many, many men, and blew half a city into smoke and gravel. And would you believe? I was a hero to the soldiers around me.
These days, I am called the Hippie Survivalist. My soul is filled stars. Most of them are gold, but there is one Death Star inside me. The Death Dealers put it there, all those years ago. It's like a passport to their world, a peephole. We see each other, always. Watching, watching. But they still don't want to kill me, and I still don't know why. Maybe I'm the guy who's supposed to tell this story?
The Oracle Concerning The Death Soldiers
Do you understand where I'm going with this?
The Death Soldiers dress in black and wear skull face masks. They carry replica MP-40 submachine pistols that fire Deadly Electrified Death Darts. When they kill you, they will eat your face off and scrape your meat from your bones, leaving your cold skeleton to quiver and shiver to death. These guys are icy. And scary. They come from The Other Side. When they appear, they manifest out of thin air, making it very difficult to avoid them. Escape is impossible, unless you master the Cold Breath exercises, which will leave you absolutely BREATHLESS. But who has time for that? Anyway: It is said that The Death Soldiers were spawned from Hitler's spirit-testicles, which shot their little AWOL souls off into the Void when the Dark Lord was incinerated outside of his bunker. No one knows what date The Death Soldiers will rip thru into this dimension, and begin their Christ-crushing destruction spree. Such beings are mysterious and nefarious, and are not given to leaving trails in tea leaves. Death has no headlights. There is nothing else to say.
The Death Soldiers dress in black and wear skull face masks. They carry replica MP-40 submachine pistols that fire Deadly Electrified Death Darts. When they kill you, they will eat your face off and scrape your meat from your bones, leaving your cold skeleton to quiver and shiver to death. These guys are icy. And scary. They come from The Other Side. When they appear, they manifest out of thin air, making it very difficult to avoid them. Escape is impossible, unless you master the Cold Breath exercises, which will leave you absolutely BREATHLESS. But who has time for that? Anyway: It is said that The Death Soldiers were spawned from Hitler's spirit-testicles, which shot their little AWOL souls off into the Void when the Dark Lord was incinerated outside of his bunker. No one knows what date The Death Soldiers will rip thru into this dimension, and begin their Christ-crushing destruction spree. Such beings are mysterious and nefarious, and are not given to leaving trails in tea leaves. Death has no headlights. There is nothing else to say.
Guns
IMHO:
First, purchase an All-Weather Ruger 10/22. This is THE basic survival rifle -- inexpensive, capable of putting small game on the table and, in a pinch, able to protect you. 500 rounds of ammo will cost you less than 15 dollars.
Next, purchase a 12 gauge pump shotgun, preferably a Mossberg 590 or 590A1 Mariner. This is the weatherproof model. The world is full of voracious freaks, and one day these freaks may try to eat your hair and burn your feet off. Your trusty 12 gauge will surely bust their balls. You know this, whether you choose to admit it or not. Load your 12 gauge with buckshot.
Next, purchase an M-4 assault rifle (.223 caliber), or an M1A (.308 caliber) battle rifle. These guns will bag medium and large game, AND, they scare the socks off the zombie hordes. You can really kick out the jams with either rifle. The M-4 will feel and behave like a semi-auto submachine gun, and the M1A will deliver devastating penetrating power. Either of these rifles will turn you into a PLAYUH. Buy extra factory-made magazines.
Finally, purchase a semi-automatic pistol, preferably in .40 caliber. A stainless steel slide is a good option, specially if it is black. A polymer body is also a good idea, for further weather-proofing. I like compact pistols, but get whatever the fuck barrel length you want. One thing to remember: Your pistol is something you will carry with you everywhere you go, once TSHTF. Gotta take a midnight run to the shithouse? Pack your pistol. Gonna hit up Safeway for canned food? Pack iron. Gotta run down to the community garden to steal their shovel? Pack your fuckin' pistol. And load your Bad Boy with hollow point rounds.
First, purchase an All-Weather Ruger 10/22. This is THE basic survival rifle -- inexpensive, capable of putting small game on the table and, in a pinch, able to protect you. 500 rounds of ammo will cost you less than 15 dollars.
Next, purchase a 12 gauge pump shotgun, preferably a Mossberg 590 or 590A1 Mariner. This is the weatherproof model. The world is full of voracious freaks, and one day these freaks may try to eat your hair and burn your feet off. Your trusty 12 gauge will surely bust their balls. You know this, whether you choose to admit it or not. Load your 12 gauge with buckshot.
Next, purchase an M-4 assault rifle (.223 caliber), or an M1A (.308 caliber) battle rifle. These guns will bag medium and large game, AND, they scare the socks off the zombie hordes. You can really kick out the jams with either rifle. The M-4 will feel and behave like a semi-auto submachine gun, and the M1A will deliver devastating penetrating power. Either of these rifles will turn you into a PLAYUH. Buy extra factory-made magazines.
Finally, purchase a semi-automatic pistol, preferably in .40 caliber. A stainless steel slide is a good option, specially if it is black. A polymer body is also a good idea, for further weather-proofing. I like compact pistols, but get whatever the fuck barrel length you want. One thing to remember: Your pistol is something you will carry with you everywhere you go, once TSHTF. Gotta take a midnight run to the shithouse? Pack your pistol. Gonna hit up Safeway for canned food? Pack iron. Gotta run down to the community garden to steal their shovel? Pack your fuckin' pistol. And load your Bad Boy with hollow point rounds.
Improve Your Gas Mileage – 5 Simple Tips
1. Get your lead foot off the gas pedal (save 5-10 MPG)
If you’re going over 55 miles per hour, slowing down increases fuel efficiency. On their test car (a Toyota Camry) Consumer Reports found that slowing down from 75 MPH to 65 MPH resulted in a 5 mile per gallon performance increase. Slowing down from 75 MPH to 55 MPH saved 10 miles per gallon!
2. Eliminate drag (save 6 MPG)
Engineers hate drag. Every piece of a car that sticks out (from the rear view mirrors to the radio antennae) reduces fuel efficiency and acceleration. The one thing engineers hate worse than drag is customers who modify the cars that they worked so hard on by adding more drag. That’s what happens whenever we attach a car-top carrier, clip a bike onto the spare wheel, or even tie a ribbon onto the antennae. All of these attachments hurt fuel efficiency more than most people realize. So now’s a good time to streamline your car - those truck balls aren’t fooling anybody, anyway.
3. Combine errands and keep your engine warm (save 4 MPG)
Combining errands saves gas in two ways - not only does it prevent driving over the same route again and again, but combining errands keeps your engine from cooling down. A warm engine is at the right temperature for optimally burning fuel. Parking in the sunlight can help to a limited extent, especially if “cold” is your hometown’s default temperature.
4. Maintain a steady pace (save 2-3 MPG)
Accelerating and decelerating constantly can take a real toll on your gas mileage. Going a steady pace makes inertia work in your favor, boosting gas mileage and also preventing unnecessary wear and tear. One of the easiest ways to set your pace is to use the cruise control. Also, try to accelerate gradually up to speed when entering the highway, and coast down to speed when using an exit.
5. Keep tires properly inflated (save 1.3 MPG)
When tire pressure gets low, the tire starts to sag like a limp balloon. This means that more of the tire comes in contact with the road, which, in turn, increases friction. Tires that are underinflated by 10 PSI rob cars of about 1.3 miles per gallon. If you’re not sure what pressure is the right pressure, check the floor well inside of the drivers door. On most cars, the ideal pressure is printed either there, or in the owner’s manual.
If you tally up the gas savings from all these steps, they total 24 miles per gallon. That can be a bit misleading though - each of the fuel saving calculations was done in isolation. Following all of the advice probably wont take your car’s gas mileage from 20 to 44 miles per gallon, but there aren’t many cars that can get 20 miles per gallon while making glaring mistakes.
The scary truth is that gas prices are rising, and there’s not much we can do to affect the price at the gas station. Don’t worry though - our European neighbors are happy to tell us that fuel prices in America are still relatively cheap. The only realistic way that we can cut down on gas related costs is to change our driving habits and use less fuel. Remember when gas only cost less than $3 a gallon? You can get there again, even if the pump is charging $4. Boosting fuel efficiency from 20 mpg to 30 mpg can cut your fuel bill by 33%! Start with the easy, effective steps and incorporate these 5 tips into your daily commute.
ALSO, if you want to experiment with putting acetone in your gas, check out this web page:
http://www.pureenergysystems.com/news/2005/03/17/6900069_Acetone/
1. Get your lead foot off the gas pedal (save 5-10 MPG)
If you’re going over 55 miles per hour, slowing down increases fuel efficiency. On their test car (a Toyota Camry) Consumer Reports found that slowing down from 75 MPH to 65 MPH resulted in a 5 mile per gallon performance increase. Slowing down from 75 MPH to 55 MPH saved 10 miles per gallon!
2. Eliminate drag (save 6 MPG)
Engineers hate drag. Every piece of a car that sticks out (from the rear view mirrors to the radio antennae) reduces fuel efficiency and acceleration. The one thing engineers hate worse than drag is customers who modify the cars that they worked so hard on by adding more drag. That’s what happens whenever we attach a car-top carrier, clip a bike onto the spare wheel, or even tie a ribbon onto the antennae. All of these attachments hurt fuel efficiency more than most people realize. So now’s a good time to streamline your car - those truck balls aren’t fooling anybody, anyway.
3. Combine errands and keep your engine warm (save 4 MPG)
Combining errands saves gas in two ways - not only does it prevent driving over the same route again and again, but combining errands keeps your engine from cooling down. A warm engine is at the right temperature for optimally burning fuel. Parking in the sunlight can help to a limited extent, especially if “cold” is your hometown’s default temperature.
4. Maintain a steady pace (save 2-3 MPG)
Accelerating and decelerating constantly can take a real toll on your gas mileage. Going a steady pace makes inertia work in your favor, boosting gas mileage and also preventing unnecessary wear and tear. One of the easiest ways to set your pace is to use the cruise control. Also, try to accelerate gradually up to speed when entering the highway, and coast down to speed when using an exit.
5. Keep tires properly inflated (save 1.3 MPG)
When tire pressure gets low, the tire starts to sag like a limp balloon. This means that more of the tire comes in contact with the road, which, in turn, increases friction. Tires that are underinflated by 10 PSI rob cars of about 1.3 miles per gallon. If you’re not sure what pressure is the right pressure, check the floor well inside of the drivers door. On most cars, the ideal pressure is printed either there, or in the owner’s manual.
If you tally up the gas savings from all these steps, they total 24 miles per gallon. That can be a bit misleading though - each of the fuel saving calculations was done in isolation. Following all of the advice probably wont take your car’s gas mileage from 20 to 44 miles per gallon, but there aren’t many cars that can get 20 miles per gallon while making glaring mistakes.
The scary truth is that gas prices are rising, and there’s not much we can do to affect the price at the gas station. Don’t worry though - our European neighbors are happy to tell us that fuel prices in America are still relatively cheap. The only realistic way that we can cut down on gas related costs is to change our driving habits and use less fuel. Remember when gas only cost less than $3 a gallon? You can get there again, even if the pump is charging $4. Boosting fuel efficiency from 20 mpg to 30 mpg can cut your fuel bill by 33%! Start with the easy, effective steps and incorporate these 5 tips into your daily commute.
ALSO, if you want to experiment with putting acetone in your gas, check out this web page:
http://www.pureenergysystems.com/news/2005/03/17/6900069_Acetone/
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)