Eeyore's News and view

Frisco Lessons -
Prolog
Joe was content with his life. Finding a wife would be nice, but he was still young. Romance would come to him eventually. Right now he had a great job, a great car, and a great place to live. Who wouldn’t love living in an historic San Francisco town house, working in one of the finest restaurants in the city, and driving to and from work in a classic Corvette?It was blustery, windy, damp day. The fog had been worse than usual on the bay that morning. Joe’s neighbor had trouble managing her three spaniels when she took them out for their morning walk, when Joe was making his morning run.Joe parked and stepped out of the classic Corvette in the employee lot of the restaurant. He’d been named employee of the month just the day before and had the reserved slot right by the rear entrance to the building.He pointed the remote on his key ring at the canary yellow ‘vette and pressed the button. He heard a rumbling, instead of a chirp. He pressed the button again. There was the chirp, but he could barely hear it over the rumbling sound that was getting louder.The ground began to shake. Joe began to have trouble standing up. He heard a cracking sound, louder than the rumbling and looked at the building that contained the restaurant. It took him a fraction of a section to realize that the two story building was beginning to collapse, the brick wall he was facing coming his way.Joe turned and began to run. It was difficult to maintain his footing, but he managed to stay on his feet long enough to be clear of the top of the wall when it hit the ground. He was pummeled by the many bricks thrown off the wall as it shattered upon hitting the pavement of the parking lot. He went down as hard as the wall had, knocking the breath out of his lungs when he landed.He had to struggle to get a breath. The pain in his side was vicious, and the cloud of dust coming off the still collapsing building was choking him. He laid there, the ground still shaking, for what seemed an eternity. But finally the shaking stopped and the rumbling stopped. The dust was just beginning to settle.Gasping for breath, Joe climbed to his feet and looked around. What was that sound he was hearing? It was the subdued sound of the car alarm on the Corvette, buried under the wall of the building. Joe just stared at the spot where his car should be. There was just a high spot in the jumble of bricks.Ears ringing, left arm pressed against his left side, Joe began to back away from the building. The restaurant kitchen used gas for cooking. But he stopped when he saw two people staggering out of the remains of the building. Both looked dirty and covered in blood and brick dust. He started toward them to help, but he was too late. Something set off the escaping gas. The fireball finished bringing the building down on the two, but not before the fireball engulfed them. They didn’t even have time to scream.Joe began backing away again, feeling the panic rising in him. He looked around again. Everywhere he looked, it was the same. Buildings were in various stages of collapse, there were fires everywhere, power lines were down. Some of the power lines were still live and were sparking and jumping around.Suddenly the ground began to shake again. It was a stronger shake and Joe went to his knees, finally rolling onto his side as the shaking continued for another eternity. But it did finally stop, again.Joe got to his hands and knees, but paused before he tried to get to his feet. Was it going to shake again? He waited a little longer but then did get back to his feet. Another look around showed the even greater devastation than the first look.He didn’t see another soul. A sudden fit of coughing doubled him over. When he was able to straighten up again, Joe noticed the several other cars in the parking lot. Two had broken windows and he went over to the closest and looked in. A brick was on the seat. But so was a half-empty bottle of designer water. He grabbed it and finished it off. That was better. It helped clear his throat.He checked the other car with broken windows. No more water. Joe decided to check the other cars, just in case. He picked up one of the thousands of bricks lying around and went to the next car. He couldn’t see anything useful and couldn’t bring himself to break the window to look further.The next car was different. He raised the brick, to smash it through the side window, but hesitated. He tried the door handle. The car wasn’t even locked. Feeling himself blush, he dropped the brick and opened the car door. There were two bottles of water, which he took. He left the other, personal, items alone. He closed the door and looked around again.The disintegrated buildings surrounded the parking lot. He was going to have to cross over some of the debris to get out of the cul-de-sac. The lowest point in the debris was at the entry to the parking lot. He headed for that spot, being careful not to step wrong and twist an ankle.He had no more than reached the top of the pile when a gas line in the nearby building exploded. The explosion threw him off his feet and he tumbled down the far side of the debris pile and was pelted with more debris from the explosion. Battered, bruised, bleeding, and covered with brick dust, Joe managed to get to his feet again and staggered away from the approaching flames.It was only after he’d gone far enough to be safe from the new raging fire that he realized he’d dropped both bottles of water. He took a step toward where he must have dropped them but quickly stopped. The fire was too intense. He couldn’t reach the water.Shoulders slumped; Joe turned around again and began walking down the street, with the vague intention of going home. Everywhere he looked there was devastation. He began to see people, mostly looking much as he did. All seemed in a daze. Except for one. Joe’s eyes were drawn to a woman going from one survivor to the next. She looked the same as everyone else, but she was doing something.Seeing her tending to the other survivors brought Joe out of his daze. He looked around with fresh eyes. He hurried over to a woman holding her left arm in her right. She was just standing there, tears cutting tracks down the dust on her face, starting at one of the demolished buildings.“Are you hurt?” he asked, touching her shoulder to get her attention. “Geez!” he exclaimed as the woman began to collapse. He grabbed her and eased her into a prone position on the ground.When he looked up the woman he’d noticed before was squatting down beside him. “She just collapsed,” Joe said.“Looks like her arm is broken,” said the woman. “She’s probably in shock.”A little of Joe’s limited first-aid training came back to him. He gently lifted her neck to keep her head tilted back to maintain an open airway. He grabbed some debris and slipped it under her legs to keep them raised.The woman helping dug into the backpack she’d removed when she squatted down. Her hand came out with a small packet. She opened it and unfolded a triangular bandage. Directing Joe to carefully lift the woman’s injured arm she eased one corner of the bandage under it and brought the corner up and around behind the woman’s neck. She pinned the ends together, and leaned back on her heels. “That’s all I know to do,” she said, looking over at Joe.“Me, too. I’m Joe.”“Trisha Thomas.”The ground began to shake again, though not quite as badly as the two previous quakes. Trisha fell back onto her rear, from her squatting position. Joe was on his knees and managed to stay there. The injured woman groaned as the shaking jostled her broken arm slightly.“I don’t know what else to do for her,” Trisha said.“Not much else we can do,” Joe said. He looked around. People were standing up again. Joe looked back at Trisha. “I wish I could do more, but I think I’ll head for home.”“I doubt a car will make it.”A sour look crossed Joe’s face. “My car is under tons of bricks.”“I use BART. I doubt if it is running now.”Half a dozen people came up to them. “I might as well go home, too. Can one of you stay with her?” Trisha asked the small crowd around them. There were several cases of two people supporting a third, injured, person.“Aren’t you going to wait for the authorities?” asked one of the group. Everyone ducked a bit when another broken gas line was ignited and exploded.“No,” replied Trisha. “It could be hours.”“I think you should stay and help,” another of the group said. “I saw you working with some of the others. Like her.” She pointed to the unconscious woman on the ground.“I’ve already used most of my medical supplies,” Trisha said.“At least you have some supplies.”Trisha stood and put on the backpack, rather protectively, Joe thought. “I don’t have squat,” he said to himself.“Yeah. well. Good knowing you, Joe. Good luck.” With that Trisha began walking away.“I wouldn’t… you know… Your stuff is your stuff,” Joe said, taking a step after her.Trisha hesitated, but stopped and turned around. “Which direction you headed?”“North. I live not too far from here.”“Oh. Me, too.” Rather reluctantly Trisha added, “I suppose it would be okay if we traveled together.”“What do we do?” called one of the small crowd.Over her shoulder Trisha said, “Go home on foot, or wait for help.”It was a nightmare journey. Everywhere they looked buildings and structures were down. People were dazed, dust covered, and injured in many cases. They stopped and helped where they could, Trisha constantly amazing Joe with the items she brought out of her backpack. He saw her give drinks of water to several people, using up three half-liter bottles of water. He licked his lips every time he saw her take a bottle out of her backpack, but he wouldn’t ask for a drink, as she hadn’t taken a drink herself that he’d seen.They’d traveled for over an hour before they saw the first emergency services personnel. It was the entire complement of a fire station working the devastation on their block. Their station had survived the quakes apparently, but they couldn’t go any where with the equipment. They were blocked in by debris on the road.“Where you guys going?” asked the station captain.They both gave him their general addresses. “Our information is sketchy. All I can advise you to do is stay put until we can get a rescue effort going.”Joe looked at Trisha. “I’m going to try to get home,” she told the Captain.“So am I,” added Joe.“I don’t advise it,” replied the Captain, “but I’m not going to try to stop you. God speed.”“Thank you,” Trisha said.Joe asked, “Do you have any water to spare?”“Water? Sure.” The captain called over to one of his men. “Clancy! Get these people some bottled water.Thankfully, Joe took the water Clancy handed him. He drank almost half of one of the liter-and-a-half bottles. He would keep the second in reserve. Trisha put both of her bottles into her pack and took out a half-liter bottle from which she took a drink.“Thanks,” Trisha said. “I’ve given almost all of my water away.”“You been helping people?” Clancy asked.“Trying to,” replied Trisha. “I don’t have much first-aid gear left.”“Clancy!” called the Captain. “Get out here. We’ve got another fire starting up.”“Gotta go! Here. Take a couple more bottles. You may need them.” Clancy handed the pair another bottle of water each and then ran out of the station house.Joe was trying to figure out a good way to carry the three large bottles of water.“Here,” Trisha said. “I can carry one of those for you.”Joe handed her one of the bottles. “Thanks.”“Come on,” Trisha said. “Let’s go. I don’t want to have to spend a night out here.”Trisha set a quick pace, weaving around the worst of the damage. Again they stopped and helped where they could. There was another temblor, the worst yet, as they were dragging an injured man from the edge of a debris pile. He screamed and went limp when Trisha and Joe staggered and fell.She had to wait for the shaking to stop, but then Trisha kneeled over the man. Sightless eyes started up at her. “Must have been something internal,” she said softly.Joe reached over and closed the man’s eyes. “Yeah. Man, this is making me sick.” He turned away and heaved twice, though he brought nothing up.“Take it easy,” Trisha said. “We can’t save everybody.” Joe looked over at Trisha. She looked a little green around the gills, herself.They got up again and resumed their journey, leaving the dead man behind. Two more blocks and they ran across a rescue operation. There were three police cars and a couple of fire trucks. Trisha and Joe stopped for a moment to watch the pandemonium. There was a huge blaze burning amidst the collapsed building.The firefighters were battling the fire, but they didn’t seem to have much water pressure. Their gaze was drawn to the activity of one of the police officers. He suddenly quit what he was doing, calling into each opening of the building and looked over at one of the people struggling out of a partially destroyed doorway.Suddenly the officer drew his gun and pointed it at the survivor. Before either Trisha or Joe could move, the survivor was firing the gun in his hand at the officer. Discretion being the better part of valor, Trisha and Joe both ran past the area as quickly as they could as more shots rang out.They slowed down when there was plenty of distance between them and the short battle. They had no idea how it turned out and didn’t particularly care. Trisha led the way a bit further and then said, “Let’s take a break and catch our breath.” She stopped and sat down on the edge of a crushed car.Thankfully Joe stopped as well. Like Trisha, Joe took a long drink of water. Also like Trisha, he noted the people headed toward them. “Think we’d better go,” Trisha said hurriedly. She stood up and headed for the next block.Joe was right on her heels. A couple of people hurried toward them, calling out. “Hey! Wait! You have water!”Trisha didn’t stop, and neither did Joe. They hurried a little bit faster, though they didn’t break into a run. Joe caught up with her and glanced over.Trisha saw him and said, “I decide who gets my water. I don’t mind sharing, but no one is going to take it from me.”“I understand,” Joe replied. He walked beside her, looking around more warily. They were beginning to clear the concentrated commercial area they’d been in, and were moving into more open ground. There was much less debris, and more people. And from the looks of it, the looting was starting.Trisha kept them away from groups and from looters, as she led the way. “Trisha,” Joe said, moving up beside her. “I’m up this way.” He pointed to the north east.“Parting of the ways, then,” Trisha replied. “I stay north for just a while longer. Nice to have met you, Joe. Too bad it was under these circumstances.” She held out her hand and Joe shook it.“Not that I’ve been that much help, but will you be all right the rest of the way? If you run into a bunch…”Suddenly Trisha was holding an automatic pistol in her right hand. “I’m not worried.” It disappeared behind her back.“I guess not,” Joe said, taken slightly aback. “Well, take care.”“You, too.”She turned away and headed resolutely away. Joe watched her until she was out of sight. It was only when he went to take a drink of water that he realized he’d not retrieved the other bottle from Trisha.“Well! Nuts!” he muttered and then finished the bottle. He started to throw it away, but decided to hang on to it. For what, he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want to litter. And he might find a use for it.Between the shootout and the looters he’d seen, Joe was a bit jumpy as he headed for his home. It only occurred to him that his home might not be standing when he saw the devastation as he approached his street. There was only a narrow open lane between the remains of the three story town houses on the cross street.Joe turned the corner. There wasn’t that much debris in the street, but all the town houses on each side of his street had collapsed over onto the one next to it. People were milling around. He saw several people enter and then leave the precariously perched townhouses. He stood debating where or not to try to get inside his townhouse to get a few things out when he nearly fell down as the ground began to shake once again.It was a staggering run, but Joe spun and ran back to the center of the street. The explosion behind him blew him almost too far. The townhouses on the other side of the street disintegrated in flames as explosion after explosion went down the line. He was peppered with burning debris.Scrambling back, he slapped at the small flames on his clothing, and then dove back down to the ground when he felt heat on his back. He rolled over and over, adding bruises to bruises. But the flames were out.He heard screams coming from down the street and hurried in that direction. Like him, the woman’s clothing had caught fire. He whipped off his jacket and tackled the running woman, wrapping her in the jacket. “Roll! Roll!” He was slapping at the flames that the jacket hadn’t put out.The woman was unconscious when Joe put out the last of the flames, and suddenly Joe was cold. The wind was picking up, and a light rain started. Joe did all he could for the woman, but there was no protection from the weather to be found. As he’d done with the other woman, Joe lifted the burned woman’s neck and put a small piece of debris under it, and then did the same with her legs to guard against shock.Keeping an eye on the woman, Joe moved closer to the blaze coming from what remained of his townhouse to gain a little warmth. It was starting to get dark. The only illumination came from the gas fed flames.The third time Joe checked on the burned woman she was dead. He couldn’t bring himself to get his jacket from the dead woman. He moved back closer to the fire again, feeling as dejected as he ever had in his life. He sat down cross-legged as near the fire as he could get and wrapped his arms around himself.Twice helicopters flew over, one slowly and one higher up and faster. Neither appeared to be looking for a landing site. Joe assumed they were news helicopters, covering the story. He checked his watch when the gas fed fires suddenly went out. It was a few minutes past midnight.Without the fires it got very dark, only the glowing coals of the few combustibles left visible in the darkness. The wind died down and the rain stopped about three in the morning. Joe sat there shivering until the sun came up. He began to see others like himself, though most were in groups. They too had spent a long, miserable night.Joe saw the National Guard convoy turn into his street, but he couldn’t seem to gather enough energy to get up. He had to think hard why seeing them was important. He was still shivering. Other than that, he couldn’t seem to move. It was a long time before one of the uniformed men came over to him.“You all right, buddy?” asked the Guardsman, leaning down to look at Joe’s face. He squatted down in front of Joe then and asked the question again. “You all right?”Joe could just shiver and stare at the Guardsman’s face. The Guardsman stood up and called over to another California National Guardsman. “Over here! We got another hypothermia!”Later, Joe didn’t remember much of what happened after the Guard showed up. He pieced together what must have happened later, from reading up about hypothermia, but he had no actual memory of it.The one thing he did know, when he was able to think again, was that he was never going to be caught in the position he’d been in when the earthquake hit. He was going to be like Trisha, with her knowledge of first aid and her backpack, and even her gun. He would never be unprepared again.
Frisco Lessons - Chapter 1
Joe rocked back on his heals and stood up. He looked over at the CPR test monitor. “You did fine. Passed with flying colors.”Smiling, Joe said, “Thanks, Christie. You’re a good teacher.”“Aw, you’re just saying that because it’s true.”Joe laughed. Christie filled out the paperwork and gave Joe his CPR qualification card. “You’re good to go. What’s next?”“Advanced first-aid. I wanted to get the CPR out of the way first, after my basic first aid training.”“Ron Guiterierz teaches that. He’s good. Lot’s of hands on”“Yeah. I know. I met him the other day. Seemed like a good guy. A bit distant, though.”“That’s Ron. Don’t let that ‘distance’ thing bother you. Once you’re in class, he’s right in your face.”“Oh, Gee! That’s a lot better.”Both laughed and Joe left the training room of the church, headed for his car. He hadn’t decided yet what he wanted to get for a permanent ride after the earthquake, so he’d just bought an old beater to get around in temporarily.Joe made sure the trunk was secure. It would pop open if it wasn’t closed properly. The starter ground a few moments before the engine caught, but it started and Joe breathed a sigh of relief. It did that every time, but it had started every time, too.He was whistling as he drove out to the firing range. Joe was going to test fire a Glock 21 again today. He’d been trying different handguns and rifles since he’d got his initial firearms training. Like his ride, he still hadn’t decided on what pistol and rifle he wanted.The shotgun decision had been easy. It had only really been between a Remington 11-87P police model shotgun, and a Benelli M4 tactical shotgun. After shooting each one several times, he went with the 11-87P. He seemed to be able to shoot it just a little more accurately. He had one on order at the gun shop, along with accessories, spare parts, and several cases of shells of various types.He’d pared the handgun selection down to two, as well. The Glock 21 or the Para-Ordinance P-14. Bother were high capacity .45 ACP’s, and according to his research, that caliber was one of the best for self-defense. He also liked the fact that he could get shot shell rounds and flare rounds in .45 ACP. The shot-shells would be handy in snake country, and having the flares would mean he wouldn’t need to carry a separate flare gun of some sort.Jake Dragsman, Joe’s firearms instructor, met Joe at the range and they got set up at one of the pistol lanes. With shooting glasses on, and hearing protection in place, Joe went through the drills he’d learned, using the Glock 21 that Jake was supplying.An hour later Joe made his decision. He wanted the Glock. Or, rather, the Glocks. Jake had brought along the compact Glock 30, which was also .45 ACP and could take its own shorter magazine, or the full sized Glock 21 magazines. A pair of 21’s would be his main handguns, and the 30 would be a hideout gun.After policing up the brass (Joe planned on reloading sometime and was keeping all his expended brass) Joe thanked Jake and headed for the gun shop to put in his order for the handguns, spare parts, accessories, and ammunition.Next session he would decide between the PTR-91, Springfield Armory M1A, and a FN/FAL, all in 7.62 x 51 NATO. One of them would be his main battle rifle. Joe was firm on the decision to get a full power rifle for his main gun, but was still waffling about whether or not to get something that would fire the 5.56 NATO cartridge. There were tons of AR-15 clones on the market, but he’d shot the Steyr AUG once and had really liked its compactness and feel. He would decide on that whole situation later.He stopped at the gun shop and put in his order. The guns were in stock, but there was the waiting period, and the shop didn’t have all the ammunition or spare parts Joe wanted. They’d be in by the time he could pick up the guns.Joe shook his head as he left the shop. He’d never have been able to get what he wanted in San Francisco. The state laws were just too strict. Moving to Reno had been a good idea. It didn’t really get him away from earthquake dangers, as Nevada was seismically active, too. Joe had searched on the internet for safe places to live and found that pretty much anywhere you went in the United States, there was some sort of major danger from nature.Since he still had ties in California, Joe had picked Reno to live, since it gave him plenty of advantages, while still being close to California. He’d not had any trouble getting a job in a casino as a bartender, and had quickly moved up to assistant bar manager in the year he’d been in Reno. He’d lived in a FEMA supplied trailer for three months after the earthquake. The first thing he’d bought, after getting a small backpack, a big first-aid kit, and a case of bottled water, was a new laptop computer. Every minute he wasn’t eating, sleeping, or working for one of the cleanup companies FEMA had hired, Joe was on the internet. There were still places in the city that had a WiFi connection.Those three months of internet research had brought him to Reno, and the position he was now in. It wasn’t where he wanted to be, but he was on the way. His small one bedroom apartment barely had room in which to turn around, it was so full of preparations of one sort or another.Between the grocery store, two buyers clubs, Emergency Essentials, and Walton Feed, Joe had a year’s supply of bottled water, a year’s supply of regular grocery store food, a year’s supply of long term storage freeze dried and dehydrated food, and a year’s supply of basic Mormon plan foods. That was in addition to a three year supply of non-food consumables such as cleansers, toiletries, and toilet paper.He also had the hardware to make everything useable. Things like a Country Living Grain Mill, a Crown Berkey water filter, a Thetford chemical toilet, a solar cooker, and so on.His BOB, or Bug-Out-Bag, as he learned to call it, like Trisha’s backpack, had evolved from his first knee jerk reaction of pack, first-aid kit, and water. He now had a Kifaru Navigator 4,000 cubic inch backpack that held field living equipment and enough emergency food for three days. There was also the 2,500 cubic inch Kifaru Marauder pack that could be piggy-backed to the Navigator. It held additional food to extend his stay in the field, if need be.Joe felt a lot more comfortable with his situation, but certainly wasn’t satisfied. He still didn’t have any CBRN equipment, or means of sheltering in a CBRN environment. He was still researching those aspects of preparedness on the internet.Upon leaving the gun shop, Joe went back to the apartment to get ready for his shift at the casino. As usual, he checked in early. He made sure all the bars under his supervision were stocked and ready for the big swing shift crowd.It was relatively a quiet shift, for a swing shift. Joe had time to do a complete inventory. Everything up to snuff, as usual. He got home at midnight and went straight to bed. It had been a long day.Joe slept late the next morning. After he was up and had his breakfast, he got on the computer again. He was currently researching homesteading and small scale self-sufficient farming.It was another decision he had to make. Whether or not to go that route. It definitely had advantages for long term, really long term, survival. But he really wasn’t cut out to be a farmer. He really would be better off storing for a longer period than normal, and try to develop contacts on small farms where he could work, if things went really bad. He could do the work, if instructed, but there was no way he was going to be able to both learn the ins and outs, and acquire the land and… “everything else needed,” Joe muttered.He made the decision then. No farm for him. He would find other ways to ensure his survival. Now a garden was a different story. More accurately, a greenhouse garden so he could grow a few things year round. Of course, that meant a piece of property. He was looking in the area around Verdi, Nevada. It was right on the border.But land in the area was really expensive. At least what constituted a ‘regular’ lot was really expensive. That meant good access and a view. Joe was convinced there was some cheaper land to be had in the area. Something that didn’t have good access or much of a view. He was doing a systematic search with several local real estate agents. One thing he did want was a southern exposure.Of course, looking for property with less than easy access was going to be one of the determining factors of the vehicle he would get. That meant four wheel drive, for sure. He was researching possibilities on the internet. He’d already decided he didn’t really want one of the hard core mudders or rock climbers. He wanted something he could drive every day and still take him where he wanted to go, wherever that might be, with equipment and supplies.It would be more like one of the bug-out vehicles discussed and described on the preparedness forums and in some of the PAW (post apocalyptic world) fiction. He liked some of the ideas, but some of them were really expensive. He had plenty of money at the moment, with the insurance money from the ‘vette and the townhouse, plus the government recovery money he’d received. But he wanted to take his time. He had to control the knee-jerk reaction he’d experienced right after the earthquakes.So he was looking for a suitable four-wheel-drive rig. But he couldn’t decide on an SUV type rig or a pickup. Each had certain advantages and disadvantages when it came to what he needed to get to and from the type of property he was contemplating and handling the additional preparations he was also thinking about.A large SUV would do most of it, like a Suburban or Excursion. But it couldn’t carry large bulky loads. Or really large amounts of fuel. A heavy duty pickup could do both. But the pickup didn’t have that much enclosed space, even a dual cab model, for those things that needed the protection of an enclosed space.Of course, if he had a trailer for the SUV, that would solve the hauling problem, and the fuel problem, but with some awkwardness. But a topper and a trailer for the pickup would solve the limitations of just the pickup, also somewhat awkwardly.Joe searched the internet for more ideas until it was time for him to leave for his advanced first-aid class. As well as doing some highlighting in the manual, Joe took copious notes, because Ron added more than a little information that wasn’t in the manual.The class over, Joe headed for work. For whatever reason, unlike the night before, it was three times busier than normal. It kept Joe on the run. He was ready for bed when he got home. It went about the same the next few days, with work and training taking up his time. But the following Wednesday he got a call from one of the real estate brokers he had searching for property for him.“Joe? This is Dan Constantine. I think I may have found something you will be interested in checking out.”A few minutes later Joe was headed for Constantine’s agency. Three hours later he was back home, getting ready to go to his advanced first-aid class. He had a big smile on his face. The property acquisition problem was just about solved. The property he’d checked out had been just about perfect for his wants.Dan and he had gone up to look at it in Dan’s Jeep Wrangler. It made it fine, but nothing less capable would have done so. Joe would have to have a bit of road building done to allow construction trucks in to the site, but it wouldn’t take much. And, with some additional tree cutting, Joe would have his good southern exposure on the property itself.But to be able to supervise the activity, Joe needed to be able to get to it. That meant getting a suitable vehicle now. Time to make another decision. Joe sat down with his computer and pulled up the Excel spreadsheet where he had listed various attributes he wanted in a vehicle suitable for a prepper.He studied the information for a short while, but came up with nothing new. He’d been over and over the information. There was no ‘perfect’ vehicle. Joe knew he had to give up something. He couldn’t have it all. He simply had to make a decision, based on what he’d already researched.What to give up? Joe sighed. EMP was the hardest to achieve. He might be able to incorporate EMP protective measures later. Okay. That was one decision. It turned him loose to look for new, or newer, vehicles.What else… Bulk cargo capacity. It would be a trailer. That meant an SUV. Which one? The Ford Excursion was larger than the Suburban, but it had essentially been discontinued by Ford. That meant replacement parts might be hard to get in the future. Suburban it was. New or used? That would be dependant on what was available. So Joe went Suburban shopping.Being much more tight fisted than he had been in the past, Joe checked the used car places first. There were plenty of Suburbans around. All the large SUV’s were falling out of favor, due to fuel prices. But every used Suburban he found was lacking something that couldn’t be corrected by aftermarket fixes.Joe went to the Chevrolet and GMC dealerships. Chevy had one possibility. He went to GMC next. He began to smile. The dealership had a Yukon XL, the GMC equivalent of the Chevy Suburban. It was the previous year’s model. It had a diesel engine and it was loaded. That was why it hadn’t sold. The dealer was hurting for sales. They had a large SUV inventory and they just weren’t selling well. The Yukon XL from the previous year was marked way down.Joe could negotiate when he wanted to. He wanted to. He negotiated a reduction in price for not taking the factory bumpers and spare tire. He got the price down another fifteen hundred dollars on top of that, and 0.0% financing. He signed the deal.It did call for a large down payment, but Joe decided it was worth it. It would be the next day before the dealership had the Yukon ready for him. Joe headed for advanced first-aid class, smiling.While the paperwork for the property was going through, Joe took the Yukon XL from place to place in the city, having a few changes made, and additions done. Joe had what he wanted when he needed to go back to the property to start the process of cutting in a road.He’d planned to do some of the tree cutting and removal on his own, but found he just didn’t have the time. He hired a contractor to cut the access road into the property, and clear an area for the buildings to come. All of the timber was saved for firewood.In between classes and work, Joe began checking out log home dealers. That’s what he wanted to build. On top of a big, deep, basement shelter. In the meantime, Joe had a well drilled and the components for a septic system delivered. Wouldn’t matter much what he built. He’d need both water and sewer. And electrical power. He wasn’t going to get that from commercial sources either. Not where his property was located. Ditto TV. Telephone. Internet access. All that. But there were ways. He’d already done the research. He put in orders to provide himself with modern technological wonders for his soon-to-be new house.It took almost a year, but the installation was complete. Joe began to breathe a bit easier. Nothing major had happened in the two plus years since his experience in the Big Frisco Quake. He’d not only learned much since then, he’d incorporated what he’d learned into his life. He was a full fledged prepper now.He had a few limitations, and he knew it. He didn’t plan on taking any further advanced first-aid courses. He just wasn’t cut out to be any type of medical person. He could handle things in an emergency… he’d done that when riding the ambulance as part of the advanced first-aid training. But he didn’t want the responsibility of being the one responsible for treating someone badly hurt or seriously ill.In lieu of additional training, Joe stocked up on first-aid supplies. And not just basic, or even advanced, first-aid supplies. He found a doctor into preparedness. Joe liked her and decided she would be his doctor. After enough routine visits to get a feel for her attitude, Joe approached her to get advanced medical equipment and supplies suggestions. She was fine with that and gave him the advice and several good internet sources from which he could buy them.It was only in the last month that she had agreed to provide him with prescriptions for ‘just-in-case’ medications and other supplies for him to stockpile and for her or other professionals to use. In return, he’d given her the location of his house, and the assurance that he would bring in the medications for her to dispose of when they reached the end of their shelf life. So Joe was ready when Reno was hit with a three day blizzard coming down from the arctic that following February fifteenth. He was at work when the blizzard started. A few people took off early, but Joe worked his full shift and then a double when his scheduled relief didn’t show up. It was snowing heavily when he climbed into the Yukon. City, County, and State DOT were all out in force, trying to keep the roads clear.Traffic was light. There had been warnings out for two days that it would be a bad one. At least most people were following the advice to stay at home and stay off the roads. The snow accumulation was almost too much for even the Yukon XL. Despite having Mud & Snow rated tires, Joe put on his chains all around. He still had to stop several times and dig through deep drifts with the snow shovel kept in a mount on the roof rack of the Yukon.It took him the rest of the day to get to the house. He backed the Yukon into the garage, plugged in the oil pan, battery, and cooling system heaters, and then went inside the house. It was cool inside, but Joe stoked the wood furnace and soon had it comfortable again. The hours of digging in the snow, on top of a stressful double shift, had Joe exhausted. He puttered around in the greenhouse for a few minutes, to get things for a salad, ate it, and then went to bed.He was up a few hours later, only a little the worse for wear. Joe had already begun incorporating his LTS food stocks into his daily meal plan. After a hearty breakfast Mountain House ham and eggs, and half a pot of Bigelow Earl Grey tea, Joe bundled up and went to the garage.The Yukon fired right up. The blizzard was still raging and again Joe had to do some digging through snow drifts to get to where he was going. Scolding himself more than a little for not having done it earlier, Joe pulled into a truck equipment place and bought a snow plow. He got the last adapter that would fit his vehicle, and that was only after some intense searching by the shop staff.After the plow was installed, and the salesman had shown Joe how to operate it, Joe went in to work early. It was well he did. The dayshift bar supervisor was adamant about going home early. When Joe offered to take the rest of the shift, Sergio went home, his job intact, though barely.Though no new customers were coming into the casino, due to the weather, quite a few were stuck there after their intended departure dates. Business was about equivalent to that on a moderately slow day. Joe talked to his supervisor about rationing the alcohol, but was told to serve it as requested until it ran out. No rationing. Joe nodded. No skin off his nose. Yet, anyway.Again he pulled his own shift, when it started, as well as the graveyard shift. Graveyard, usually fairly busy, was very slow. Several people, besides the bar supervisor, hadn’t shown up for the shift. Everyone that was there was kept busy, despite the slow business.Sergio showed up late the next morning, but he did show up, fearful of losing his job if he didn’t. Joe headed home. It took him several hours to clear his road from the county road to the property. By the time he was at the house, he was an experienced small snow plow operator.Whistling tunelessly, Joe fixed himself a greenhouse salad and ate it in front of the TV. The satellite dish was working, and he watched the news coverage of the blizzard. It appeared that it would continue for another day. Joe fell asleep in the recliner, but he woke up in time to get to the casino for his shift.He ran the Yukon with the blade down and turned at an angle to clear the single lane. The snow was diminishing significantly and he made good time. He arrived at the casino, ready for work at the scheduled time. He felt late, because he was usually there a half an hour or more early.Sergio was chomping at the bit to leave, and did so as soon as Joe appeared, without bothering to brief him on the current situation. Joe made a quick round, talking to all his bartenders and checking stocks. Unless they got a shipment in, which was doubtful, they’d be running out of a few items.There was some grumbling, when they did run out of a couple of very popular liquors, but no real trouble. Things were quiet when Shelley showed up for her first graveyard shift in three days. She was un-apologetic about her absences. Joe wondered how much longer she would last in the position. It wasn’t the first time she’d been on their supervisor’s list.Joe put it out of his mind and went home. Just for the practice, Joe cleared the road again, though he could have made it home without doing so. Tomorrow was Saturday, and Joe didn’t have to go in, so he slept later than he usually did.Much to his surprise, he got a call from his supervisor at the casino. Jean wanted him to work the swing shift today and Sunday, and then take over the dayshift beginning Monday. He actually preferred the swing shift, but cooperation with their wants and needs at the casino had stood him in good stead in the past. He said he’d do it. Jean was on the way up the ladder, and Joe very well could have her current job in the not to distant future.So, with a sigh, Joe got ready to go in to work. People were digging out from the havoc the blizzard had wrought. He wondered for a moment how he would have fared had he not changed his outlook on life and become a prepper. Probably be like Sergio or Shelley. At least in their inability to get to work. It didn’t seem to bother them. Even in the old days, not showing up for work would have bothered him.He took the time to clear a larger area around the house of snow. Then he parked the plow and disconnected from it. He was at work at his normal time. The airport was open again and there was a lot of activity in the casino. And the casino bars. The delayed deliveries were beginning to show up. Joe was kept hopping both weekend swing shifts. Come Monday, day shift, things were just about back to normal.When he got his paycheck for that pay period, he used all the overtime money to increase his holdings of gold and silver coins. He was on a regular buying program anyway, but decided to get a little more with the extra money.All of his extra money went into preps, actually. Having put down large down payments for the Yukon XL, the property, and the house, his major monthly payments were fairly low. The subscriptions for satellite TV and internet, and cellular phone were nominal.His heating and cooking fuel was free for the taking for the most part. Wood. He could harvest from his own property, but would only do that for specific building needs. He had permits to harvest deadwood in the National Forest that abutted his property and he took advantage of them.He was able to haul the wood out with the trailer he’d had made from a wrecked GMC ¾ ton truck the same year as his Yukon XL. He’d hired a temp from an agency the previous fall, and using Joe’s Husky 570 24” bar chainsaw, they had cut, split, and moved enough wood for two severe weather years. He’d do the same every year until he had ten years worth stockpiled. As a backup, Joe was having a semi-truck load of coal brought in every year. All of the stoves in the house, greenhouse, and garage/shop could burn either wood or coal.Joe settled into his new shift. It wasn’t long and he was in a new position when Jean got her promotion. He took the position and got a hefty salary increase. It all went into preps. Joe thought about some type of conventional retirement plan, but decided to follow his gut and keep prepping.The one concession he made to conventional economics was to invest in some income producing property. Namely, he found a large corner lot in a growing neighborhood, despite the current slowdown in housing, and bought it. He financed the construction of a rental quadraplex. As soon as it was finished, he was able to rent all four units.The income was easily paying for the purchase and construction costs. He decided to continue a program of building quadraplexes for income production, using the previous to finance each succeeding one. He could continue to do that until he had all he wanted, or until he retired. Assuming, of course, nothing happened to interfere with a conventional retirement. If something did interfere, he had his preps, which he was able to increase with the income stream from the rentals, after the third one was built.Joe continued the building program in a nearby town, not wanting to put all his eggs in one basket, by having all the quadraplexes in one city. Namely Reno. With his decision to spread out the quadraplexes, he began to think about his single place to hole up if things went bad. He began looking for another piece of property for a bug-out-to retreat.He finally found a small piece of ground outside of Winnemucca. He decided it was far enough away from Reno to be outside the range of anything that might affect Reno, with a couple of exceptions.Joe decided to keep it simple. He’d run across an electronic copy of the old Civil Defense Publication MP-15. It had a dual wall, above-ground shelter design in it that he liked. He added a few design features, including enlarging the shelter, and found a contractor willing to build ‘the storage shed’.When the contractor had done his work, Joe bought more concrete blocks and built an interior wall concealing the supplies and equipment he purchased just for the retreat. If anyone did break in, all they would find would be an empty concrete block room. He cached a few items in buried polymer drums so he would have access to them even if someone was in the shelter when he got there.Among many other things, they contained several smoke grenades that could be used to drive out anyone inside. One of the design features Joe had added was a small access port that could be opened from the outside, specifically to use the smoke grenades. The port could be blocked from the inside, but Joe was confident that no one would discover the port, much less how to block it.Feeling better and better about his preps, Joe decided it was time to practice with them. He had plenty of vacation time accumulated and decided to take ten days and do a one week bug-in.Joe found himself somewhat disappointed. He stayed in the shelter, which was off the side of the basement of the house, for seven days. He ate, he slept, he read, he listened to music, he watched DVD’s. He didn’t have any contact with the outside world for seven days. The photovoltaic power system worked like a charm. The temperature was cool, so he put on a sweater. He needed no extra heat. When he came out everything was the same as it had been when he went into isolation.He turned on the news while he was making breakfast. It could have been the morning after he’d started the practice run. The same stories were on the news. Except for one. Joe stopped eating and watched the report. The news reader was reporting a story of the buildup of Chinese military forces across the strait from Taiwan, as well as along the entire border of North Korea.“That doesn’t sound good,” Joe thought to himself. He watched for a while longer, but there was nothing further on the buildup. He kept an eye on the news for the next couple of days, as he relaxed around the house. On the day he had to go back to work, the Chinese story was in the background.Now Russia had gone silent. Flights into and out of Russia were cancelled. All forms of electronic communication were down. The borders were sealed. Two days later there were Communist coups in several of the former Soviet republics. Communication and travel to and from each of them was also cut off.Taiwan asked for increased military help from the US, fearful of an imminent invasion. South Korea did the same. Japan, too, requested a stronger US presence in the area.Things seemed quiet in the Middle East, with renewed peace talks on going. The US was conducting a staged withdrawal of troops from Iraq, as sectarian violence lessened dramatically. Both Iran and North Korea were hinting at renewed interest in resuming nuclear non-proliferation talks.Joe checked and rechecked his preps. He searched the internet any time he wasn’t at work, asleep, or eating; looking for anything that could increase his state of preparedness or an indication of an impending attack.But nothing happened for two weeks and Joe decided he had been nervous about the situation for no good reason. Apparently he hadn’t shown much sign of his nervousness during that time. He’d stayed out of the discussions about what was going on overseas. With things seeming to calm down, one of his bartenders, Artie, asked him, out of the blue “Hey, Boss. How come you weren’t worried about all this stuff that’s been going on? I don’t think I’ve heard you say a word about it.”“Nothing much I can do about it,” Joe replied carefully. He liked to keep good relationships with those working under him, but he wasn’t about to let anyone know the extent of his preparations.“I don’t know,” Artie said. “I went and got a couple cases of tuna. You know. Just in case.One of the cocktail waitresses was waiting on a drink order and said, “We did that after that big blizzard. Used some of it since then. You think I should get more?”Joe stayed silent, but Artie said, “I would. But then again, it really looks like it’s all been a tempest in a teapot.”“What do you think?” Bella asked Joe.“I’d get it,” he replied. “Don’t see what it would hurt.”“Do you keep a good pantry?” Bella asked then. “I know you live out somewhere in the boonies. Though you were here every day during that blizzard.”“Have to, where I am. I was just lucky I was able to get back and forth during the blizzard.” Joe didn’t like where the conversation was going and was about to excuse himself and head for one of the other bars to check.But just what he was trying to avoid happened. Artie grinned and said, “Knowing you have that pantry, if anything happens and I run out of food, I’ll head for your place.”At the sour look on Joe’s face, Bella laughed and said, “Me, too.”Joe shook his head and left. That’s all it had taken for them to think of his place as a refuge and supply point. One little conversation. They’d forget all about it until something happened… if something happened. Then it might come back to them. And they might act on it. Joe shook his head again.When he came into the city for work the next day he came early and stopped at his buyer’s club store. He picked up two cases of tuna, two of Spam, four of Macaroni & Cheese, two large packages of toilet paper, and ten cases of bottled water. He’d share. But on his terms.World tensions diminished, but Joe stayed on his guard. There was still nothing from Russia or the Republics. China was withdrawing some troops from the border areas. It was a very slow withdrawal, however.The White House was deluged with even more reporters than normal during the period. The most common question, “Is war coming?” basically got the “No Comment” reply from everyone that was in a position to know.Others, however, speculated wildly. The opinions ran the gamut of this just being an ordinary event to calls for a pre-emptive nuclear strike on Russia, the Republics, and China.Joe knew exactly how lucky he was when China and Russia announced they had just signed documents creating a Russian/Chinese alliance. China immediately launched invasion forces toward Taiwan. Another wave headed for Japan. China lent immediate help to North Korea when it invaded South Korea.Russia also announced it had been returned to Communist control and was actively rebuilding the Soviet Union.Russia and China both announced that the battle would go nuclear if the United States or any of her allies tried to intercede in China’s or Russia’s activities.For eighteen days Joe watched the news and waited with the rest of the world to see what would happen. The North Koreans took Seoul about the same time the Chinese gained foothold on the western coast of Japan.
(part 2 - next week)

'No proof' of bee killer theory
By Matt McGrath
Science reporter, BBC World Service
Bee hives were left deserted by adult worker bees
Scientists say there is no proof that a mysterious disease blamed for the deaths of billions of bees actually exists.
For five years, increasing numbers of unexplained bee deaths have been reported worldwide, with US commercial beekeepers suffering the most.
The term Colony Collapse Disorder was coined to describe the illness.
But many experts now believe that the term is misleading and there is no single, new ailment killing the bees.
In part of California, the honeybee is of crucial importance to the local economy as 80% of the world's almonds come from there - America's most valuable horticultural export.
But without the bee pollinating the trees, there would be no almonds.
In a few frenzied weeks in February and March, billions of honey bees are transported to the state from as far away as Florida to flit innocently among the snowy almond blossoms, and ensure the success of this lucrative crop.
However, since 2004 their numbers have been mysteriously declining, and it was only at the end of 2006 that the severity of the losses began to be fully realised.
It's probably not a unique event in beekeeping to have large numbers of colonies die
Frank Eischen
US Department of Agriculture
Commercial bee keeper Dave Hackenberg, from Pennsylvania, was the first to sound the alarm.
He recalled the moment when he first realised something was wrong:
"I started opening a few hives, and they were completely empty boxes, no bees. I got real frantic and I started looking at lots of beehives. I noticed that there were no dead bees on the ground, there weren't any bodies there."
Even stranger than the absence of the insects was the fact that other bees would not go near these deserted colonies.
Since then around two million colonies of bees have disappeared across the US. And the losses have continued this year, albeit at a lower rate.
The unexplained nature of the affliction, with empty hives and no clearly defined infection, has stumped scientists.
Colony collapse
Since the 1980s, a rising tide of ailments has assaulted the honeybee, including the varroa mite and many deadly viruses.
Putting the varroa mite under the microscope
But the dramatic and rapid losses of the last five years had convinced experts that something new was at work within the hives.
Researchers around the world are running round trying to find the cause of the disorder - and there's absolutely no proof that there's a disorder there
Dennis Anderson
CSIRO
They developed a concept called Colony Collapse Disorder, or CCD.
Dr Jeff Pettis, a researcher with the US Department of Agriculture Bee Lab, said CCD applied to colonies which died although there were no high levels of parasites: "The colony was once strong, it reared a lot of young developing bees and then the adult bee population simply disappeared or died.
"With those symptoms it certainly is unique and it doesn't really match up with our expectations for parasitic mite loss and the like."
But to date researchers have found few clues as to the exact cause of the disorder.
And some senior scientists now say the "disorder" does not exist as a separate illness.
Dr Dennis Anderson, principal research scientist on entomology with the Australian research organisation CSIRO, said the term could be distracting scientists from other work: "It's misleading in the fact that the general public and beekeepers and now even researchers are under the impression that we've got some mysterious disorder here in our bees.
"And so researchers around the world are running round trying to find the cause of the disorder - and there's absolutely no proof that there's a disorder there."
Previous declines
His view is shared by some experts in the US.
Conducting experiments at an isolated almond orchard in the Central Valley area of California, Frank Eischen, of the US Department of Agriculture, said it was "probably true" that there was no new single disease.
"We've seen these kinds of symptoms before, during the seventies, during the nineties, and now," he added.
"It's probably not a unique event in beekeeping to have large numbers of colonies die."
The varroa mite sucks the bees' blood and weakens the immune system
Many experts speak about a "perfect storm" of impacts that are the real reason for the decline.
Principal among them are infestations of the varroa mite, which suck the bees' blood and weaken their immune systems.
There are also concerns that bees are being deprived of nutrition as urbanisation removes their natural pastures.
One of the biggest worries is the possible impact of agricultural pesticides.
It is believed these chemicals can have a similar effect in bees as alcohol has in humans - they disorientate the bees, causing them to get lost on the way home.
Busy work
The intensity of agriculture could be the real underlying cause of bee stress, some experts believe.
Commercial beekeeper Dave Hackenberg described the working life of a bee as difficult.
"My bees are in California pollinating almonds," he said. "In the middle of March they are going to be trucked all the way across the United States all the way back to Florida to pollinate oranges then they are trucked another thousand miles north to pollinate apples in Pennsylvania.
"When they go to these places, the only thing that's there is the crop that you pollinate; it's a big monoculture.
"We all like steak and potatoes and we all like corn, but if we eat any of these on their own for a month at a time then your body would not be in the best of shape."
Some critics of the bee industry have called the whole concept of CCD a hoax, a public relations stunt designed to attract public sympathy.
Dr Eischen does not believe it was made up, but says CCD has been helpful to highlight problems in the food supply.
He told the BBC: "We rely on farming, and to have that brought to the fore by the press that there is a problem with something as fundamental as getting fruit to produce, trees to bear, vegetables to yield and it all comes together with the bee coming to a flower and performing a vital service, the imagery is great and it strikes at the heartstrings of a lot of citizens; and from that respect it's been good."
"It highlights the hard work it takes to bring a crop to market."
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/7925397.stm

Cellphones may spread superbugs in hospitals: study
Cell phones belonging to hospital staff were found to be tainted with bacteria -- including the drug-resistant MRSA superbug -- and may be a source of hospital-acquired infections, according to study released Friday.
Researchers from the Ondokuz Mayis University in Turkey led by Fatma Ulger tested the phones and dominant hands of 200 doctors and nurses working in hospital operating rooms and intensive care units.
Ninety-five percent of the mobile phones were contaminated with at least one type of bacteria, with the potential to cause illness ranging from minor skin irritations to deadly disease.
Nearly 35 percent carried two types of bacteria, and more than 11 percent carried three or more different species of bugs, the study found.
Most worring, one in eight of the handsets showed methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus (MRSA), a virulent strain that has emerged as a major health threat in hospitals around the world.
Only 10 percent of staff regularly cleaned their phones, even if most followed hygiene guidelines for hand washing, the study noted.
"These mobile phones could act as a reservoir of infection which may facilitate patient-to-patient transmission of bacteria in a hospital setting," the authors warned.
Several strains of drug-resistant bacteria are generally harmless to healthy people but can become lethal to hospital patients in weakened conditions. The bacteria slip into open wounds and through catheters or ventilator tubes, typically causing pneumonia or bloodstream infections.
The researchers noted that more studies were needed to confirm their findings, which were based on a relatively small sampling.
But they called for common sense measures to help reduce the risk of contamination, especially frequent cleaning of phones with alcohol-based disinfectants or the use of anti-microbial materials.
Banning phone use in hospital settings is probably not practical, they concluded, because the devices are often used for work in emergencies.
The study was published in BioMed Central's Annals of Clinical Microbiology and Antimicrobials.
In the United States, where national statistics are available, MRSA is the cause of more than 60 percent of all hospital infections. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, MRSA in 2005 infected 94,000 people and killed 19,000 in the United States.
http://www.breitbart.com/article.php?id=CNG.fc2e92b48e2dace82d783db42b4403f2.af1&show_article=1

Islamic honor killings take center stage
Women's rights group warns of beatings, executions
A human rights organization says it's not enough for Americans to adopt "resolutions" opposing violence when Islamic girls are stoned for being victims of gang-rapes and warns that such violence already has moved into the United States, with beatings and murders – including a recent beheading – documented.
The result is a plan for a public rally on March 8, International Women's Day, at the Capitol Reflecting Pool in Washington, D.C., according to the organization Responsible for Equality and Liberty.
"Every day, women are under attack by Islamic supremacism that supports and approves of oppression, mutilation, and murder of women. According to leaders and followers of Islamic supremacism, they have the right to commit violence against women. Islamic supremacism views oppression of women as a legitimate 'right,' violence against women as a legitimate 'right,' and murdering women as a legitimate 'right,'" the organization announced.
The organization cited the U.S. Senate response – a resolution – when not even a year ago a 13-year-old girl, Aisha Ibrahim Duhulow, was stoned in front of an African crowd of 1,000 as "punishment" for being the victim of a gang rape.
According to a BBC report, while she begged for mercy, those stoning her said they were doing the will of Allah.
But the Senate failed to even acknowledge the "Islamic supremacist ideology" behind the attack in Somalia, a nation which now is ruled by Islamic Shariah law from border to border, the group charged.
That same "ideology," now has arrived in America, too, the group warned.
"Being 'sorry' is not enough. Politicians' 'condemnations' are not enough. Ignoring the Islamic supremacist ideology behind the slaughter and oppression of women in America and around the world is not enough. … If we don't speak out, if we don't demand more of our national and international leaders, more women will be murdered by Islamic supremacists."
According to the organization, the effects – so far – on American women have included one case in which a Muslim TV network founder honored by the Council on American-Islamic Relations was accused of beheading his wife. Authorities there decided that the suspect should only be charged with second-degree murder.
There also have been cases of beatings, a woman told she would be treated "like a dog," a death threat for "defaming" Islam, a daughter in Atlanta murder for "honor," and two Dallas teenagers killed for the "crime" of having boyfriends, the group said.
"We demand that American government leaders acknowledge the existence of Islamic supremacism and act on the threat of Islamic supremacism to women. Now," the group said.
"This global threat against women must be confronted by both men and women, not just by being 'sorry' about random violence or about 'extremist' actions against women, but by demanding that our representatives acknowledge that Islamic supremacism threatens them, and by calling for global action against Islamic supremacism," the group said.
The campaign also has been taken up by the United Nations, where its rapporteur, Yakin Etruk, has warned against the "growing crisis."
"Women must demand that their governments implement agreements on women's equality, rights and an end to violence against women, which have been signed but have yet to be carried out. In these countries, those who speak on behalf of Islam still justify things like stoning or killing a woman for this or that reason as being part of their religion," she said.
According to the Associated Press, Chechen President Ramzan Kadyrov said seven women who were shot in the head in "honor killings" deserved their deaths.
They had "loose morals," he told reporters, and rightfully were shot by male relatives.
REAL also reported a Canadian girl was murdered for "honor," in France and Germany Muslim women are set on fire, and in Israel Arab women are poisoned or strangled for defying Islamic supremacist traditions.
"We rightly recognize and remember the 3,000 victims of the 9/11 terrorism attacks, but the 5,000 victims of 'honor killings' have no day set aside to remember them, and many of our world leaders would just as soon forget about them," wrote Jeffrey Imm, of REAL.
The organization is assembling a petition that calls upon both U.S. and U.N. officials "to recognize the global threat of oppression and violence to women from Islamic supremacism."
It demands national and international condemnation of Islamic supremacism as a threat to women everywhere, as well as measures to protect the women of the world.
http://www.worldnetdaily.com/index.php?fa=PAGE.view&pageId=90898