It happened again. You went to a party, and, even though everyone there looked super normal, it turned out that they’d all been preparing for the apocalypse. In urgent tones, they warned you that it’s coming soon, and you should be ready. You arrive home half-drunk and tell your husband that you’re finally going to take it all seriously. It’s time you prep for the end, which may be nigh. He wanders off muttering something about you being cool in the twenty-tens—but he’ll thank you later.

First things first, you go online and order yourself a LifeStraw. Out of all the things the party people shouted at you to buy, this was the one that stuck. The other thing you remember is a “crank radio,” but that can’t be right. Isn’t that just another name for a sousaphone? You can’t imagine how a sous

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