I’ve been to the junkyard, plenty. As a matter of fact, I’ve been to the junkyard to get parts for 1960s Mustangs, and their idiot adopted cousin, the Fairlane. A proper junkyard is full of snakes, yo. As a matter of fact, we used to go snake hunting in the junkyard. You’re going car hunting in a snakeyard. Wearing toddler shorts ain’t helping your look, either, dude. And you keep returning to the junkyard without any tools. You’re on the Motor Trend channel, so you’re obviously dilettantes, so we’ll move on.
It’s awfully hard to prepare for an apocalypse that hasn’t arrived yet. You never know if you’re supposed to hoard gold coins or toilet paper. I figure toilet paper would make a more useful coin of the realm than actual coins WTSHTF, but what do I know? When in doubt, I go down in the basement to sort all the wood screws and put them in baby food jars. In zombie times, a goodly supply of screws is bound to prevail.
But what about self defense? If someone decides to get medieval on yo azz, are you ready to thrust, or parry, or advance-lunge, or disengage and run away properly? Or in the case of these fine specimens of medieval combat, are you prepared to lean on a tubby guy dressed by an HVAC contractor for long periods without passing out from boredom, inanition, or nerd B.O. ?
Hey, remember the circus? They had wild, exotic animals. The animals were trained to do all sorts of amazing tricks. The circus had lion tamers who stuck their heads inside the lions’ mouths like crazed dentists. The circus had dancing elephants. There were guys and dolls eating fire.