There are days when I doubt that anything I can do will make any sort of difference, and I doubt that as a society, we're going to be able to wake up quickly enough and act aggressively enough to save our collective asses. There are days when I think that our collective Hummer is too close to the brick wall for us to turn or stop, and all I can do is buckle up my own personal seatbelt, assume the crash position, and hope the airbags deploy.

Succinctly put, a lot of the time I think we're screwed. Some days, I manage to muster enough hope to think that we might muddle through. And others I hope that the worst will hit after I'm dead. I still always have hope that I'm mistaken.

And in the meantime, I learn to hunt. I learn first aid. I plan to put a garden in. I study survival and bushcraft techniques. I'm starting to accumulate a small stockpile of canned goods, ammunition and bottled water, and I research how to make the Fearsranch more self-sufficient.