I used to hang out with a bunch of preppers until I got tired of the silliness. Most of their chatter consists of swapping slogans such as “when the balloon goes up”, or “beans and rice”, or other euphemisms for “I don’t know a d*m thing.” Each person assumes that “apocalypse” corresponds to whatever their hobby is; gardeners assume they will have to grow everything they eat, campers expect to have to live in the wilderness for a while, amateur soldiers just know there will be a lot of sneaking through the weeds, gun collectors will finally see a real live gunfight, and so on. The men assume they will have to fight to the death more than once, and the women expect it to be choreographed.