Life under the sequester, day 1
Promises of snow from earlier in the week never materialized, so we bought a bit of a break on day 1 — early morning patrol of my compound’s perimeter was a rather ordinary affair, visibility being higher than I’d anticipated, and the lack of any precipitation allowing me to walk both the fence line and rooftop in dry boots and clothing.
During my patrol I spotted only two potential looters, the pair huddled together near a roadside public transportation bench about 400 yards out, passing back and forth between them documents that I was unable to clearly make out through my scope, though I think it fair to suspect that these were diagrams or maps of the surrounding sub divisions, of which there are 6 in a 3 mile radius. Why they decided to so easily make their intentions known is not for me to say; there are and will be plenty of inexperienced penetration teams now that the sequester has kicked in and commerce, schooling, and transportation have been brought to a GOP-initiated halt, and I suspect that this particular two man team hadn’t done their research, else they would have known from the transportation secretary that public transport will collapse under the strain of draconian budget cuts and civil austerity measures that kick in at the onset of the sequester, making their cover (such as it was) — that of two “businessmen” exchanging “work papers” while “waiting on the light rail” — a poor choice indeed. That is, if no trains are coming, and planes would begin falling out of the sky — and for months that’s all we’ve heard would happen (well, that, and to prep, which thankfully I had a head start on, having already squirreled away about a year’s worth of Pop Tarts and toilet paper before the panic buying began) — affecting a cover identity as an itinerant traveling businessman waiting on public transportation is a dead giveaway that, while it may fool the casual observer who hasn’t yet understood the full depths of what the sequester will bring, couldn’t fool me.
All of which I took into consideration before taking my first shot at the interlopers, which proved to be true — I didn’t see the need to go for a kill shot, but instead merely winged one of the two potential marauders with a 147 gr 7.62×51 NATO round to the hand that may have taken off a finger or two — my way of sending a warning to some of the bigger population centers that will be looking to inch their way outward to find food and supplies in the less populated areas.
After I was sure they’d retreated, I sat and ate a few donuts before chopping and stacking firewood and then, nourished, and under the cover of camo netting that I’d set up to avoid detection by drone flyovers, set about a dozen new bear traps across a stretch of the prairie in an affective wounding pattern that I think will funnel any multi-person invasion group into an open area where, for me and my wife, acting from reinforced roof top parapets, it’d be a turkey shoot.
All in all, a pretty quiet morning here in Obama’s sequestered America. But then, I never really expected we’d be deep in the shit on day one. In fact, it’ll probably be about a week or so before the society collapses completely and the realization hits the masses that, the government having been so dramatically slashed, society can in no way survive as we’ve known it, and it’s every man and woman and child for him or herself.
And it’s that delay that probably accounts for the veritable absence of chatter on my ham radio this morning. So after an hour or so I just gave up listening and watched the season premier of “Duck Dynasty.”
Boy, does that Jace crack me up!