Semi-Prepper Emergency Preparedness Plan

Create an emergency preparedness plan.

AKA “How to survive storms, blackouts, and the occasional apocalypse without losing your cool… or your snacks.”

1. Start with the Basics:

The Stuff You’ll Actually Use

Think of this as your “bare minimum to not be a cautionary news story” kit.

Water – One gallon per person per day. (Or at least that’s what all the oils say) You can’t live on coffee and beer alone. (Trust me, I’ve tried.)

Food – Canned goods, rice, beans, and snacks that won’t morph into biohazards before you eat them. (I store a few items that can get me through 72 hours to 4 weeks, pending emergency)

First-aid kit – Bandages, antiseptic, pain meds, and your prescription meds. Because nothing says “bad day” like running out of blood pressure pills in the middle of a blackout. (I use MyMedic kits, one in each vehicle and with my Go Bag)

Light & power – Flashlights, batteries, solar chargers, and a crank radio so you can pretend you’re in a 1940s disaster movie. (Jackery Solar generator and two crank radios for the more serious disaster)

2. SHTF Upgrades — When It’s More Than a Bad Storm

This is when you step into “competent neighbor” territory.

Self-defense – Pepper spray, a baseball bat, or the look you give when someone asks if you’ve got extra toilet paper. (We all know I’ll have a Glock on my hip and an SMG at the ready)

Extra fuel – Gas for your car or generator. Stored safely… not next to your BBQ propane tank. Cash – Small bills. Card readers will ghost you when the power’s out. Maps – Actual paper ones. Google Maps doesn’t work when the towers are down. (I keep a few different maps of different territories, just in case)

3. Oh Crap, It’s Serious — The Prepper Starter Pack

We’re not full bunker yet, but we’re on the off-ramp.

Water filter/purification tablets – Pond water is not “infused.” Multi-tool – Invest in one that doesn’t fold in half the first time you use it. Portable shelter – Tent, tarp, or something you can rig between two trees like a wilderness MacGyver. Clothes for all seasons – Layers in winter, breathable gear in summer. Because sweat + apocalypse = bad combo. Worst case scenario I have iodine tablets as well)

4. The Mental Game

Because survival isn’t just about gear — it’s about not panicking when things get weird. (Life isn’t Hollywood, there isn’t a script and retakes… prepare mentally as well as physically)

Have Plan B (and C) — Where to meet if phones die. Practice your “grab-and-go” drill — if you can’t be out the door in 10 minutes, you’re doing it wrong. Learn one skill that doesn’t involve Wi-Fi: starting a fire, growing food, or using a map without yelling at it.

5. The Bonus Prepper Flex — For When You’re the Hero of the Neighborhood

These aren’t necessary, but they make you legendary.

Barter items – Coffee, alcohol, chocolate, ammo, duct tape. (The universal currency.) Backup cooking – Camping stove, rocket stove, or a coffee can with questionable engineering. Entertainment – Deck of cards, books, or a harmonica. The apocalypse is long; you’ll need hobbies.

My Final Words…..

You don’t need a full underground bunker or a pet raccoon named Bandit to be prepared. But you do want to be the guy or lady, people come to for help… not the one trading their dog for a can of soup three days in.

Stock smart, stay ready, and keep a little humor in your go-bag. Because the day you lose your laugh is the day you’re just surviving — not living.

Semper Paratus

Starting a Business isn’t Always What it Seems

Starting a business sounds sexy. You’ve got the vision, the ideas, the late-night “this is gonna be huge” moments.

But here’s the cold truth, ideas are cheap, execution is where most people crash and burn.

Rule #1: Don’t Dive in Head First

I don’t care how good your idea is. Slow. Down.

Do your research. Know your market. Have your finances, systems, and people ready before you open those doors.

When day one hits, you should have:

Every moving part of your business trained and ready. A clear vision everyone understands and commits to. No surprises when it comes to inventory, staffing, or operations.

Because if your business needs a team and your team isn’t on the same page, you’re already sinking.

Rule #2: Communication Is Non-Negotiable

If you have multiple managers, communication is your life line. Daytime and nighttime supervisors can’t be ships passing in the night…. they need to share what’s happening and when.

Set regular team meetings. Weekly or monthly, whatever your operation demands….. and make them count.

Review your finances. Identify what’s making money and what’s bleeding it. Ask where the team needs help.

Rule #3: Small Businesses Fail Where Big Ones Succeed

Large corporations have systems. They’ve got layers of communication and accountability.

Small businesses? Too often it’s chaos and crossed wires.

Before you even think about opening, create a vision board, your “north star.” Policies & procedures, your playbook for daily operations.

One rogue employee doing their own thing can cause a ripple that turns into a tidal wave of problems.

Rule #4: No Freelancers in the Trenches

I’m not talking about the people you hire from Indeed or Fiverr.

I’m talking about the “I know a better way” employees who ignore your systems. Even managers have to be on board with your system.

If you’ve got a set way things should be done, follow it to the letter. Deviations kill consistency, and inconsistency kills customer trust.

Rule #5: Presence Matters

Some businesses can run themselves. Most can’t.

Be there. Watch your business. Guide your team.

Team building and training aren’t optional, they’re survival skills.

Rule #6: Partners Can Make or Break You

Partnerships aren’t bad. But they require absolute compatibility, clear agreements, and constant communication.

If your partners, investors, or managers don’t share your vision, you’re not the owner anymore…. you’re just another employee with a title.

The American Dream Comes with Nightmares

Your business is your baby. It’s late nights, early mornings, and constant problem-solving.

If your team doesn’t support you, if your systems aren’t tight, if your leadership isn’t present, the dream turns into a nightmare real quick.

Success isn’t about the idea. It’s about the grind, the systems, and the people who believe in them as much as you do. Implementation of your ideas is the key to any successful business!

Shit That Irritates Me

08/11/2025 Rant Entry 1

You know what’s worse than Mondays? iPhones and “cutting-edge” technology that can’t even handle the basics. Autocorrect? More like auto-wreck. I can’t type a sentence without my phone taking creative liberties like it’s auditioning for Mad Libs: Tech Edition. And the keyboard accuracy? I swear my thumbs aren’t that fat.

And don’t get me started on “simplicity.” That’s dead. Replaced by a minefield of technical hiccups that would make your grandmother throw her iPad in the river.

Speaking of hiccups, let’s talk about the shiny new Jeeps with their fancy Android Auto radios. Sounds great… until you own an iPhone. My Jeep’s radio practically throws a tantrum every time I try to use SiriusXM. If my phone’s Wi-Fi isn’t on, it nags me like a hungry German shepherd who just learned the term “beg.”

Fine, I switch to CarPlay. Big mistake. CarPlay in a Jeep is like putting a cat in a bathtub, they are not meant to be together. Unless you want constant prompts, music interruptions, and rage-inducing menu loops, avoid buying a new Jeep unless you’ve pledged allegiance to Android. And no, you can’t just swap the radio…. Jeep decided to make them unremovable. Thanks for that. Not completely unremovable, but unable to be replaced with aftermarket radios. (At the time)

Now, for my next “thing that irritates me the most”… it’s me. Yeah, I’m on the list. I am stressed at levels doctors would call “statistically concerning.” There’s only one of me, but the world acts like I’m a team of eight.

Today’s to-do list? Get my son to the range so he can learn to shoot. Easy, right? No. First, I’ve got to deal with Coda, wake up early, run him, walk him, play with him until he’s tired, then crate him. Then it’s off to my parents’ to grab the firearms, ammo, and gear. So far, so good. (The ammo bag only contains gear for me, now have to make sure I have extra hearing and eye protection for him)

But then… the drive. One hour of construction zones and lane closures while my brain runs a checklist of everything else I’m behind on: beer orders, unreturned contractor calls, the hole in my basement ceiling, two weeks of uncut grass, the collapsed deck that needs rebuilding, house hunting, bills, the business, the possible expansion, the new lease negotiations, maybe opening Sundays but not having reliable staff for it… and that’s just what I remember.

Finally, we pull into the Highlands. The parking lot’s empty, great, we’ll get a lane! Except… I open my console and discover I forgot my wallet, ID, and cash. Can’t shoot. Can’t even go to Cabela’s to sell a gun I was supposed to bring over two months ago! Just… nothing.

The truth is, I’m slipping. My brain’s so busy thinking for everyone else that I can’t think for myself. I let my son down today. And unless I get help, it’ll keep happening.

I’m tired. Tired of people lacking common sense. Tired of explaining the same things over and over. Tired of being the default problem-solver for everyone’s crisis while mine stack up.

So here’s the deal: if you need me today or tomorrow, call someone else. I’ve got my own mess to sort out. Adults can figure out their own damn problems for 48 hours.

Sincerely,

A failing, tired Pete.

What is the most important thing to carry with you all the time?

This one’s changed for me over the years.

When I was a police officer, I never left home without my firearm. It wasn’t optional, it was survival. But these days? Even with all the crazies still out there, that’s not at the top of my list anymore.

For a long time, it was my knife. And honestly, it still is. That knife has been with me through more than I can count, and it’s one of those things you just feel naked without.

Then there’s the practical side of me that says I should carry a pen and notepad…… because you never know when a great idea or a random thought will pop up. But then again… our phones have basically turned into a Swiss Army knife for the modern world, replacing pen, paper, maps, cameras, and about a hundred other things we used to carry.

But if I’m being real? The one thing I think everyone should carry every single day… is a sense of humor.

Life is too unpredictable and too damn short to be weighed down with all the other BS.

So for me, the list is short:

My knife My wallet My phone And my sense of humor

Everything else? I can leave at home.

Spotlights and Second Chances: Why Proactive Policing Matters

We’ve all seen it, those neighborhood watch signs posted on telephone poles, Facebook groups blowing up with posts about car break-ins, porch pirates, and late-night vandals.

But what we don’t see? Active police patrols before the crime.

Now, I’m not saying police don’t patrol. They do. But let’s be real, they don’t patrol the same way after a crime is reported.

It’s the “too little, too late” patrol strategy. A day or a week after something goes down, suddenly the squad cars are doing laps like it’s the Indy 500. And at night? Don’t bother closing your blinds because reactive policing means that spotlight’s gonna light up your living room like you’re hosting a midnight rave.

That’s not community engagement. That’s damage control.

Look, I get it. Manpower is short. Staffing is rough. Budgets are tight. But here’s what I don’t get: how you can swear to “protect and serve,” but only show up after something bad happens.

Before anyone comes at me with “you don’t understand the job”, let me stop you right there.

I was the job. I was the proactive cop. The guy walking the beat, checking in, building relationships in the troubled neighborhoods while the reactive guys were in the report room arguing over Uno rules.

Being proactive isn’t flashy. It doesn’t get headlines. But it builds safer neighborhoods.

So if you’re wearing the badge, wear the responsibility too. Get out of the cruiser, show your face, talk to the people you’re sworn to protect.

Because the truth is, communities remember the officers who were there before the glass shattered, not the ones who showed up shining spotlights at 2am saying, “We’re here now.”

Porch Nights and Empty Chairs

Summer’s ending. The air is shifting… cooler, quieter. The night sky lingers a little longer, and everything starts to slow down. It’s this time of year I remember a ritual I used to love.

After a long day at work, I’d pull into my driveway and glance to the left. Like clockwork, there he’d be, my neighbor, posted up on his porch like a guardian of the neighborhood, cigar in hand and a grin that said, “You bringing the bourbon, or am I?”

I’d park, grab a drink, and make my way over. We’d sit for hours pouring whiskey, puffing cigars, and solving the world’s problems one smoky breath at a time. The bottle would slowly disappear, and eventually, so would we… off to bed, satisfied from the kind of conversation you only get with great friends.

But life, like bourbon, goes fast when you’re not paying attention.

My neighbor’s moved south now. His porch sits empty. Mine might as well. The ritual’s gone. No more late-night debates, no more shared smokes or spontaneous toasts to “just making it through the damn week.” The porch is still there, but the people are not. And porch nights without people? Just wood and weather.

I’ve accepted the change. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.

I still sit outside some nights, music low, drink in hand. But it’s quieter now. I wonder if those kinds of neighborly bonds even exist anymore. Is it just me? Is sitting on the porch and chatting with your neighbor a thing of the past? Some forgotten relic from when people actually wanted to be present instead of buried in their phones or hiding behind garage doors?

We’ve thought about selling the house. A fresh start, a new chapter. But finding something affordable is one thing, finding a community is another. Will the next neighborhood have porch people? Or just cold stares and HOA warnings for Coda’s excess barking.

Maybe I’m just stuck in the past. But the past??? Man, it had cigars, laughter, and the kind of connection that made even a Wednesday night feel like something worth toasting to.

So I sit, I sip, and I listen for ghosts of conversations past. Change is inevitable. I know. But damn, I miss when change wasn’t so lonely.

The American Dream, Hijacked:

You’re Not Renting Space, You’re Financing Someone Else’s Wealth

Let’s get something straight: rent hikes without reason aren’t economics, they’re exploitation.

When did renting a space to live or run a business turn into a twisted version of Monopoly, where landlords don’t pass Go but sure as hell collect way more than $200?

Renters, especially the good ones who pay on time and don’t wreck the place, should be prized. You’d think landlords would roll out the red carpet for them. But nah. Instead, they get surprise rent increases, shady “maintenance” fees, and let’s not forget the triple net lease madness.

Triple Net. Let’s talk about that circus act. Under this model, tenants are paying rent…. AND property taxes, insurance, common area maintenance, wages of building staff, and sometimes even the landlord’s second mortgage and midlife crisis boat payment.

That’s not a lease. That’s a full-blown sponsorship of someone else’s investment. It’s like buying a car, paying for gas, insurance, repairs… and then mailing the title to someone else.

Here’s the truth bomb: If you’re a landlord, your rent income is supposed to cover your damn bills. You’re not supposed to pass the financial buck to your tenants like it’s a hot potato.

And sure, some landlords are golden. They fix things on time, keep rents fair, and actually want to keep good tenants. But let’s not pretend they’re the norm. The bad ones? They’re multiplying like pop-up ads. Jacking up rent because “market rate,” ignoring busted ACs in July, and charging “administrative fees” like they’re running a VIP club.

You know what else isn’t easy to come by these days? Affordable property. Tenants don’t have a buffet of options, and some landlords know it. So instead of working with people, they slap on premium pricing like their space is Buckingham Palace. (Spoiler alert: it’s not.)

It’s greed. Plain and simple. And while some say, “compassion doesn’t pay the bills,” I say this: if your investment property is so stretched that you can’t pay taxes or maintenance without squeezing your tenants like lemons at a lemonade stand, you shouldn’t be in the rental business.

I once heard someone say,

“Millionaires become millionaires by having others pay their bills.”

And damn if that doesn’t hit harder now that I’ve seen it in real time.

Take a look around town…. strip plazas and commercial centers owned by millionaires who haven’t flipped a burger or mopped a floor in decades. And yet, the rent they charge? You’d think each storefront came with a golden ticket and a back massage from Willy Wonka himself.

They own the property. You pay the mortgage, the taxes, the insurance, the maintenance… and their vacation home in the Keys. When all you should be paying is the monthly rent!

It’s not passive income.

It’s active exploitation with a golf swing and a fake smile.

Rant over. For now. But landlords: if you’re not going to be fair, at least be honest. Stop pretending it’s about inflation when it’s really just about padding your bottom line.

The Sounds of Summer

Last night, I took Coda out for one of our nighttime walks…. peaceful, quiet, the kind of night that wraps around you like a favorite old flannel. But then… something unexpected broke the silence.

It started faint. Familiar. A sound I hadn’t heard in a while. As we got closer to a nearby field, it got louder. Laughter, shouts, kids squealing with joy. And suddenly, bam, I was transported.

A bunch of kids were out there, full-on playing football. At 10 p.m. In the pitch dark. Couldn’t see the ball? Didn’t matter. They were just being kids. Free. Wild. Unplugged.

And you know what my first thought was?

Not: “Where are their parents?”

Not: “Call the cops, they’re too loud.”

It was:

“Hell. Yes.”

Finally. Kids. Outside. Playing. Laughing so hard they probably forgot the score, if there even was one.

It hit me right in the feels. Took me back to summer nights in the ‘70s and ‘80s, when we ruled the neighborhood in cut-off shorts and grass-stained knees. No phones. No helmets. Just bikes, baseball bats, and a deeply understood code:

“Come home when the streetlights come on.”

We didn’t need permission to be kids. We didn’t destroy stuff, we didn’t act out. We played. We made memories. We built friendships. And yeah, sometimes we got a little rowdy, but it was the good kind of trouble.

That’s what I saw last night. A rare glimpse of what a great neighborhood sounds like. Laughter bouncing through the night air like a boombox on someone’s porch.

And in a world full of chaos and complaints, that sound? That’s peace.

So here’s my humble, slightly nostalgic request:

Open your doors.

Send the kids out.

Let the night be loud.

Let the game go long.

And let the world hear the soundtrack of childhood again.

Because if your neighborhood doesn’t echo with laughter after dark… what are we even doing?

Cooking With Basil

Today’s kitchen chaos featured two wildly seductive dishes:

Shrimp Scampi…. swimming in a garlic lemon sauce so bold it could file its own taxes. Light, zesty, and a little scandalous.

Beef Tartare….. raw, rugged, and dressed to impress with a red wine cream sauce that whispered sweet nothings while punching flavor in the mouth.

Digestif: French. Toast. Lattes.

Because we classy and a little unhinged.

Dinner wasn’t just perfect, it was borderline marriage proposal-worthy.

Are You a Karen in the Wild? Or Just a Domestic One?

This might sound like an irritating rant, and let’s be honest, it kinda is…. but it’s also meant to be funny. So unclench and read on.

Let’s talk Karens. Or Kens. You know the type, out in the wild, lurking in parking lots, grocery aisles, or dog parks. They spot something they don’t approve of and BAM: they’re offering unsolicited advice, loudly narrating your life like it’s a badly-scripted sitcom.

But what if you’re not that kind of Karen?

What if you’re not a public menace but rather… a domestic dictator?

You might be a Karen of the house, a silent breed that lies dormant until they step inside their own four walls. Out in public, you’re charming, laid back, just another face in the crowd. But once you’re home? Game on. You walk into a room and see your significant other cooking, cleaning, or God forbid making coffee, and instead of carrying on with your day, you pause… and offer your very important, highly unsolicited, completely unnecessary input.

“Why didn’t you use the other pan?”

“You’re supposed to add that after it simmers.”

“Are you sure that’s how the dishwasher should be loaded?”

Sound familiar? Yeah. You might just be an Inside-Only Karen.

They’re everywhere. They look like regular people; servers, teachers, nurses, stay-at-home parents. We laugh with them. We hang out. We think they’re totally normal. But cross the threshold into their domain and suddenly they’re the self-declared CEO of Household Management.

Trash? Commented on.

Dishes? Micromanaged.

Laundry? Judged.

Groceries? Incorrectly placed and thoroughly criticized.

Listen, we love you. But sometimes, we just want to finish our dip, our dinner, or our damn pot of coffee without a Karen popping out of the pantry like a passive-aggressive jack-in-the-box.

So… are you a Karen in the wild? Or one that lurks in living rooms?

Either way, just remember: Not every moment needs your commentary.

Sometimes, the best thing you can do is smile, walk by, and say it with me…… shut the fuck up.