Sitting here with our miner’s lamps on, readying ourselves for a grid-down environment populated by latte-crazed Soccer Moms battering down our doors to get at our espresso reserves – we just weren’t in the mood to get, this.
Some of you may have gotten one of these in the past and we don’t know what you did but we started to peel it, looking for signs of authenticity and then – of course – checking our financial accounts for signs some Ukrainian hacker was in there moving our money into his offshore account in the Canary Islands.
First, we have to say that except for a few vital tipoffs this attempt to gain control of our finances – or our computer so they could then gain control of our finances – was pretty good.
Being fairly smart, we took a few precautionary steps, ignored a prompt to contact “security” via a given link and, in an early morning call with bank officials, learned that this sort of thing goes on all the time and that lots of people are falling for it.
Which was distressing to hear. We’re feeling a little vulnerable lately, with our money in a bank vault (ostensibly) and far out of our immediate control, our power slated to go out tomorrow morning, the government – well – the less said about that, the better – and we still have to daisy chain our solar panels.
What’s a Suburban Survivalist to do? Lots of things, and we’re trying to get them up and running quickly while scoundrels and Visigoths ply their trade, trying to beat us out of our supply of dehydrated Fettuccini Alfredo as well as our life’s savings.
Just be sure we don’t catch you, Bad People, because the rules are going to change after The Collapse and you may find yourselves in stocks in the Town Square (we still have Town Squares, right? We can build the stocks…).
Okay? Fair warning. Now, we have to go, “Special Enforcement Agent Bob Jones” is calling from the IRS, something about some unpaid taxes, and apparently we need to send him some gift cards to keep the federal government at bay.
Life is hard in the Apocalypse.