"They can have my guns, bullets first" – The Modern Doomsayer

He appears unassuming, a howling wolf surrounded in an American flag adorns his factory tie-dyed shirt, black and blue and black and blue. He wants something we don't carry anymore – long term survival gear, used mainly for camping. I tell him how the big corporations make it difficult to sell things like that anymore, and he reacts with a frown, eyes wrinkling into the template formed by all frowns previous. From the folds, I can tell this man does a lot of frowning.

He seems concerned, frowning not at the world, but for the world, saddened by the state of things, genuinely hurt by the actions of man, empathizing with those unfortunate. He no longer believes in much beyond his Bible, he keeps his guns loaded, prepared to hand them over "bullets first". The military had jaded him, speaking of the fifty year olds who would act like children, without foresight.

He is a man who takes the blows for the faults of mankind, the marks left his soul stained like his shirt, black and blue and black and bruised. The concentration camps are ready, he claims, with ovens to cook those who fight back. They'll be run by NAZIS who wear big business armbands, starred white on blue, reflecting what had become American, blind patriotism and Wal*Mart. The Wal will finally hit the mirror and turned law.

It's okay though, his bunker's ready. Six months of food and water, ammunition, and three books. He's awaiting judgement.