There are these people I read about daily on the Intertunnel. They’re preparing for the apocalypse.

They’re hoarding ammo, of course. Stacks and sacks of MREs in vaults in their bunkers. If you’re not hip to military lingo, MRE stands for Meals Ready to Eat, or more informally, Meals Refused by Ethiopians. Anyway, they’ve got bat caves and safe rooms, generators and survival equipment for every eventuality.  They’re ready for a zombie horde.

If I was a betting man, though, and the apocalypse came, and I had to choose who’d survive the longest between the most Omega Man that ever prepped, hunkered in his bunker with stores galore, and this Finnish dude put out in the middle of a frozen lake in nothing but a loin cloth with nothing but a quart of aquavit, I know which way I’d bet. I’d give you odds, too, because it wouldn’t even be close.

(Thanks to Gerard at American Digest for sending that one along when he awoke from his wassails)