If you’re reading this note, I desperately need your help. I am trapped in the underground bunker that I built in Upstate NY after reading Richard Russell‘s warning this past May:
Do your friends a favor. Tell them to “batten down the hatches” because there’s a HARD RAIN coming. Tell them to get out of debt and sell anything they can sell (and don’t need) in order to get liquid. Tell them that Richard Russell says that by the end of this year they won’t recognize the country. They’ll retort, “How the dickens does Russell know — who told him?” Tell them the stock market told him.
– Dow Theory Letter, May 18th 2010
Living only on canned food and distilled water, I believe that my senses are leaving me. I’ve had no contact with the world since heeding that Dow Theory newsletter’s warning. I have only a stack of gold bricks to keep me company – I’ve begun talking to my gold bricks and giving them each names.
If you are reading this and there is still an America out there, please send help! My leg has become wedged between the air purification unit and the machine that monitors the vitamin levels of my urine. I fear that I may have to cut it off to get free but if Richard Russell was right and there is no longer a civilization to come back to, perhaps it is best to just bite into one of the cyanide capsules I’ve packed in my rucksack.
That’s a funny word, RUCKSACK. I don’t think I’ve ever used it before. Ruuuccckkkssssaaacckkk. Ruck. Sack. Rucksack, luckblack, tuckmack….