by Tate, Glen
Seeing empty — totally empty — gun store shelves during the ammo scares reinforced Grant’s thoughts on how people panic and clean out the stores in the blink of an eye. There was something very unsettling about seeing empty shelves in a gun store. It was more than just that the prices were going way up and he couldn’t shoot on the weekends because he couldn’t get replacement ammunition. More disturbing, by far, was the knowledge that people were buying guns and ammunition in droves.
They must have a reason for doing that. They must be afraid of something. When about ten or twenty million people had the same idea, the inventories that were designed for normal demand for, say, a hunting season dried up almost overnight. People were hoarding ammunition. More than guns, ammunition was even more susceptible to hoarding because it cost less than a gun.
Grant found himself wanting to buy more cases of ammo even at ridiculous prices. Most of the time, he resisted. When a federal official announced one morning that the Administration had the goal of outlawing “assault rifles,” Grant ran out and bought a half case of overpriced .223. Later, he was a little embarrassed by how much he paid, but he thought it was necessary at the time. Grant was investing in “precious metals” that just so happened to be capable of stopping people trying to kill you. Gold coins were great, but they couldn’t do that.
Grant noticed one kind of ammunition was still plentiful during the ammo scares: .40 pistol. This was the caliber almost all police used and it was popular with civilians. They must have mass produced .40 ammo for the cops, because it was usually the only caliber available during the hoarding. Grant decided that .40 would be his semi-auto pistol caliber when it was time to get one.
There were many more guns in 9mm than .40. (They had roughly the same power to stop someone, with the difference between the two only mattering to internet forum debaters.) Since there was such a huge market for it, 9mm ammo was cheaper than .40, but so many people had 9mms, so the ammo flew off the shelves during the ammo scares. This meant that the large market for 9mm made that ammunition harder to find.
Grant figured there was much more .40 available because it was the “cop caliber” and manufacturers knew that cops would be practicing with their guns all year long and using a lot throughout the per year. Therefore, the ammo factories were geared up to constantly churn it out. Besides, law enforcement would order in giant lots; there might be some overruns and those cases would go into the civilian market.
Another lesson from the ammo shortage was that oddball calibers were the hardest to find. That 16 gauge was probably a great gun, but the stores only carried a few boxes of it; however, they had cases of 12 gauge. Grant realized that he should pick a few very popular calibers and stick with them. A gun without ammo is worthless.
Stocking up on ammo was a key prep. Grant remembered the first time he lifted a full case, 1,000 rounds, of ammo onto the counter at Capitol City Guns. He felt weird getting a whole case. Chip made him feel more comfortable by saying, “Just one?” Chip was serious.
There were sound reasons to stock up on ammo, other than the impending collapse Grant foresaw. First of all, there was almost no ammunition available during the ammo scares so Grant couldn’t enjoy his hobby of shooting unless he stocked up. Second, the price of ammo, when it was available, was skyrocketing. It made financial sense to invest now in something that was rising in price, would last for decades, and would undoubtedly be used.
As much as Grant hated to admit it,there was an emotional reason to stock up on ammo. Having cases of it curbed his concerns about the future. There were real dangers out there to prepare for. It was amazingly comforting to be doing something about all the problems that were bubbling out there. He was taking action instead of sitting around worrying.
Any thinking person realized that there were plenty of things to be worrying about. It was obvious things were falling apart in the United States. The Federal Reserve was creating trillions of dollars out of thin air.
Many people did not know what the Federal Reserve did.
Grant found out and was surprised.
A big stumbling block for Grant even wanting to learn about the Federal Reserve was all the weirdoes who constantly harped about how the Federal Reserve was a “Jewish conspiracy” to take over the world. Grant wasn’t crazy, so he was reluctant to look into something that only seemed to be of concern to crazy people.
However, he took a few minutes and learned about the Federal Reserve. It wasn’t a “Jewish conspiracy,” and it wasn’t complicated. It was a bunch of bankers of varying ethnic backgrounds and it was all out in the open.
The Federal Reserve was a central bank, basically the big bank that lent all the money to all the banks in the U.S. It was not a federal agency; it was just the biggest bank that had a license from the federal government to create money. Yep, that’s right. They got to create money. Out of thin air.
Grant had always assumed the U.S. Treasury created money on printing presses and with the consent of Congress. He was wrong. The Federal Reserve, a collection of big banks, would decide, on its own, to create money by loaning electronic dollars to other banks. For example, one day the Federal Reserve might decide to loan a hundred billion dollars to a major bank in the U.S. or in a foreign country. The Federal Reserve did this by creating credits on their computers. They would just credit the electronic accounts of the other bank with one hundred billion. That meant— poof — the other bank now had account balances that said they had an extra hundred billion dollars. It was all electronic. There was no cash or gold or anything backing up the hundred billion dollars that the computer screen said existed. It just appeared in the other banks’ accounts. Then the bank loaned out the hundred billion dollars in their account to other banks, and those banks loaned it to people. The other banks had to pay each other back, including the bank that had borrowed the money directly from the Federal Reserve. So, the Federal Reserve got its hundred billion dollars (that it just created on a computer) with interest. The Federal Reserve kept this massive sum of interest for itself and loaned some of it back. God only knows what else it did with this massive slush fund.
All of this was secret because it was not a government agency, so it wasn’t subject to the Freedom of Information Act that allows the public to see most government documents. No one could find out about what the Federal Reserve was doing. Not even Congress.
Yeah, but what about that dollar bill in everyone’s wallets? That was money, right? It said on it that is was a “Federal Reserve note.” What’s that?
Debt. It’s a certificate of debt that says the Federal Reserve owes the person with the dollar bill one dollar (that they can just create with a few clicks of a computer). That’s right: a dollar is just “debt”; it’s not an asset like a small chunk of gold. Americans didn’t trade money around; they traded debt.
Grant was driving up to a McDonald’s drive-thru getting the kids Happy Meals when he realized that a dollar was just debt. He took out a $20 bill he had earned by working hard and gave that $20 bill to McDonald’s in exchange for some Happy Meals. After giving Grant some change, McDonald’s took that $20 bill and used it to pay their French fry supplier. The French fry supplier took the $20 in a bank account and bought potatoes. The potato farmer took the $20 now in his bank account and bought some fuel for his tractor. And so on. That $20 bill piece of paper was traded for Grant’s labor, Happy Meals, French fries, potatoes, and fuel — things that are real and have value.
But that $20 piece of paper isn’t “money” in the sense that it’s worth anything. Labor, Happy Meals, potatoes, and fuel are things that are worth something. That dollar — a piece of paper representing debt the Federal Reserve owes the holder of the bill — is only worth something because things can be purchased in exchange for it. A person can get Happy Meals for that piece of paper because McDonald’s believes it can trade that piece of paper for uncooked French fries. It’s the belief that someone will accept the piece of paper in exchange for stuff that mak
es that piece of paper worth anything. If McDonald’s and everyone one else started to say they wouldn’t accept dollars, but would only accept some new currency like gold or silver, that $20 bill would quickly become just a piece of paper. A person couldn’t feed that piece of paper to their kids. The whole system worked on a belief that that piece of paper was worth stuff because it could be exchanged for stuff. It was that simple. The whole system worked on a belief.
It hadn’t always been this way. A hundred years ago, a twenty dollar bill was backed by an ounce of gold. Someone could take that twenty dollar piece of paper into a bank and say they’d like a one- ounce $20 gold coin for it. “Here you are,” would be the answer as the bank teller handed them a one-ounce gold coin that said, “$20” on it. The $20 bill and a one-ounce gold piece were interchangeable.
That meant that $20 was worth a set amount: one ounce of gold. The value of the dollar couldn’t fluctuate much; it was worth a set amount of gold. And could easily be traded for something of real value: gold.
Not anymore; not even close. When money can be created out of thin air, people will want to create lots of it, just as the Federal Reserve did. When there was a downturn in the economy, the politicians would call the Federal Reserve and beg them to create more money to loan to people to get them to spend it. “No problem,” the Federal Reserve would say; it made interest on all that money it was creating. A few clicks of the Federal Reserve computer and the economy had a few billion, or even trillion, more dollars in it. People were a few billion or trillion more in debt (because all these dollars are really debt). More spending, more debt. The economy improves and the politicians get re-elected. What’s not to love?
More spending and debt, that’s what’s not to love. Common sense dictates that such a cycle can’t continue without a consequence. Inflation is that consequence.
If there are ten trillion dollars out there and then the amount is increased to twenty trillion, each dollar is worth half as much. There is only a certain amount of stuff to buy with those dollars; when there are more dollars chasing the same amount of stuff, it will take more dollars to get the same amount of stuff. As Jack Spirko on the Survival Podcast explained it, it is like playing a game of Monopoly. One player has a color copy machine and just makes twice as much Monopoly money. There are twice as many Monopoly dollars in circulation. Pretty soon, that Boardwalk property that was $500 goes up to $1000 because everyone has twice as many pieces of paper money.
Seeing an inevitable future, Grant would try to think about a Happy Meal costing $100. It was hard to imagine at first. Then he realized that the problem was thinking about a Happy Meal. Store some pancake mix or, better yet, grow your own food. Trade something with a farmer for some fresh beef. Get out of the system of debt and Happy Meals. People would be happier (and healthier).
After forty plus years of thinking that a person needs Happy Meals and had to pay for them with dollars, it was hard for people to adjust their thinking. Quite honestly, most people would have no reason to think about it if they didn’t know how fragile the whole system is. But once they realized how fictitious all this, people would have a reason to think about these things. It was frightening.
Chapter 23
The Team
Grant was going to Capitol City Guns at lunch a few days a week. He loved hanging out with “normal” people instead of the bureaucrats who hated him at his State Auditor Office job. Capitol City was an oasis.
For some reason that Grant never fully understood, the guys at Capitol City really liked having him around. He was a lawyer and, now, a kind of high-ranking government official. Grant wasn’t the average gun store guy, although the regulars at Capitol City included other white-collar guys. He viewed Capitol City not as a gun store, but where some of his best friends were. He brought food in and remembered guys’ birthdays.
Grant shared stories with the gun store guys about all the government corruption. The guys couldn’t believe it was that bad. When he started mentioning things that would then appear in the newspaper a few days later, they realized he wasn’t making the stuff up.
Another reason they probably liked Grant at Capitol City was that he bought a fair amount of guns and ammo there. He traded in his Winchester 1300 shotgun that he never really liked for a tactical Remington 870. The 870 had a recoil-reducing Knoxx pistol grip and stock. One of the reasons Grant didn’t like the Winchester was the recoil. This tactical 870, though, was easy to shoot. He got pretty good at reloading it quickly and using it aggressively at short ranges.
One of the coolest things about Capitol City was that they assembled AR-15s there. They had a shop in the store and, with nothing but a bunch of spare parts, assumed a few ARs at a time. Grant started to learn how an AR fits together from the guys. He learned that AR-15s were like Legos, and that the pieces fit together and were customizable. Pretty soon, Capitol City gave Grant and a handful of other regular customers “shop privileges.” They could just walk into the store and go back to the shop and make ARs. Capitol City got free labor out of the deal and the guys got to learn how to make guns. It was very cool.
Grant’s AR was fine. It was a standard A2 like the kind issued in the Gulf War (but not fully automatic, of course). Grant wanted a really customized one. He started collecting pieces — a bolt here, hand guards, a trigger assembly — and began putting them together with help from Chip. He got exactly what he wanted; the Magpul UBR stock that he loved, the stainless steel bolt carrier group that cleaned so easily, the Yankee Hill hand guards. He got a special barrel that Chip was working on. Everything was just the way he wanted. He had never had a gun built for him, by him.
When he was done, Grant had a totally fabulous AR. Chip was getting him parts at wholesale. It cost much less than Grant thought it would. He was very proud of it because he helped build it.
He got very, very good with that AR, going to the range every other weekend and practicing. He would alternate between his cabin and range time on the weekends. He was getting very good at shooting, and his cabin was looking great. He could truly relax on the range or at the cabin. That’s where things were “normal” and he didn’t feel like a weirdo for thinking about how America was on the brink of a collapse.
One day, Grant was on a lunch break from work and had a suit and tie on. He was working on an AR in the shop. He had the gun in a vice and was using a metal punch and a hammer. Chip came up to him and said, “A lawyer and a gunsmith. Wow. You don’t see that every day.”
Then Chip came up to Grant and whispered, “What are you doing this Sunday?” Grant thought Chip was inviting him to some weird church or something.
“Not sure,” Grant said cautiously. “Why?”
Chip looked around. “Some of us do a little tactical shooting at a law enforcement range. Steel targets that pop down when you hit them. It’s very realistic training, and a total blast. I don’t want the others to get jealous by hearing me inviting you. We only let cool guys know about this.”
This sounded like fun. It would be like Joe’s range.
“Sure, I’m in,” Grant said.
“When and where?” Chip gave him the details.
Grant got up early on Sunday morning and got his gear together. He put on his 5.11 pants and his hillbilly slippers. He would look like a dork in jeans and tennis shoes and would lose his footing and not have any cargo pockets for magazines. Thank goodness he had his 5.11s and hillbilly slippers. At least he wouldn’t look like a lawyer out there.
Grant felt like he was trying out for a sports team. He hoped his gear was cool enough, although he never tried to buy the latest and greatest tactical gear. Besides, he was in his forties and was a lawyer. He wasn’t going to try to be a twenty-something tactical bad ass. He was an old white-collar guy who happened to shoot pretty well. He didn’t want to turn into a mall ninja. Or, worse yet, a middle-aged mall ninja.
Grant got a dozen doughnuts — it was a law enforcement range — and headed into the sticks outside Olympia to
one of the two rifle ranges in the county. His usual range was the other one so he was unfamiliar with the one he was going to.
When he got there, he saw a sign that said “Restricted. Law Enforcement Only.” There was a white civilian Hummer parked there and an Asian guy standing next to it. He was tall, probably six feet, and looked to be in his mid-twenties. He was a tough looking guy, like from a martial arts movie, but one of the good guys; not a thug. He looked familiar. Grant thought he’d seen him at Capitol City but, for whatever reason, never met him.
The Asian guy saw the doughnuts and smiled. “You Grant?” “Yep,” Grant said.
“Chip couldn’t make it but said you’d be coming to join our little group today,” the Asian guy said.
Grant thought this guy was a cop, maybe a Fed. Oh well, Grant didn’t have any illegal guns, so he wasn’t concerned.
“I’m Bill Kung,” the Asian guy said.
“My friends call me ‘Pow.’”
“Pow?” Grant asked.
“Yep,” he said. “As in ‘Kung Pow’ — you know, Kung Pow chicken, the Chinese food. Some stupid attempt to mock my Korean heritage,” he said with an even bigger smile. This guy was cool.
“Well, Pow, pleased to meet you,” Grant said shaking his hand.
“Time to gas up,” Pow said and started to load up magazines. He had about two dozen of them, AR and Glock mags. Pow had a Glock in a cool Kydex holster and a high-end AR with an Aimpoint red-dot sight. He loaded the magazines smoothly and quickly. He did a press check of his pistol and rifle, which is a check to see if there is a round in the chamber. He did it efficiently and without thinking, like he’d done it a thousand times. He probably had.
