An obsession since moving west has been my growing awareness of earthquake preparedness kits.

I half-assedly started putting a few things together (mostly just a dynamo-powered, crank radio and similarly powered flashlight). But, on my outstanding list of shit I gotta do it was on a growing list (as it turns out a list that included “pay my fucking overdue mortgage already.”)

The other day, though, the boy-o of my dreams calls from lunch, because he spied with his little eyes something I would LUV, love, LUV. Working out in front of Oracle HQ were these folks. These lovely folks who have now become (second only to my sweet patootie) my entreprenurial heros.

A check of the website and a phone call later, we figure out they were basically having a survivalist yard sale. Whoo hoo. Thankfully, in many ways, I forgot my camera. Otherwise I would have committed an act of high douchery, photographing dad and sons stuffing away boxes and stacks and ziplog baggies of disaster-surviving wonder in nylon travel bags. I would have made Ansel Adams like coolness with the dramatic lines of a trim suburban lawn, driveway and garage neatly arrayed with bunker supplies enough for Armaggedon.

Here’s what we walked away with in a fetching emergency red knapsack:

What you got there is your US Coastguard and Red Cross approved water and “food” rations for two adults over three days. We got the “Double Deluxe” portions, rather than the leaner just plain double (non-deluxe) kit. I plan on swilling the water orgiastically, while either mounting a game of warfare with M., in which I seek to ration his intake into delirium, or just making him feel guilty and strong to my needy and weak. Either way it’s a win-win for me. The only downside is what with all the marathon running, his carcass will likely be heavy on the stringy and lean when I’m forced to consume his flesh or die.

My favorite aspect of the kit for the moment is the single maxi-pad. The water and food is for three days, but let’s hope Aunt Flo doesn’t visit the day the big one strikes.

It’s probably nutty and unnecessary or at least overkill to arm the barricades, as it were. But as long as GWB keeps fucking the country, I’m thinking these kits would make sweet XMas gifts for the whole family. Sure, they won’t be slammed by an earthquake (well my sister’s pretty damn close to the tectonic activity of Old Faithful, a zillion hotspots and a once-active volcano.) As M. pointed out, probably a few folks in New Orleans wouldn’t have minded such a kit by their doors.

It is very wrong, however, that as of today, I’m kind of hoping for a little danger so we can play with our rations, whistles, light sticks and radios. The kit comes with a notepad and paper. I’m thinking my first note will say “Thanks, M., for inviting me to Cali.”