"It Ain’t Paranoia If You’re Right"

Now, I ain’t some tinfoil-hat-wearin’ lunatic holed up in a bunker with 87 cans of ravioli and a goat named Liberty (though, to be fair, I do have about 43 cans and a goat named Hank). I’m just a regular fella who’s seen the writing on the wall—big ol’ capital letters, plain as day. And if you’re reading this, chances are you’ve felt it too. That itch at the back of your neck. That tug in your gut that says, “Things ain’t quite right out there.”

You don’t have to look far to see the cracks forming. One good cyberattack, one whiff of economic collapse, one dictator-in-training declaring martial law “for your safety,” and suddenly you’re standing in your kitchen wondering why the faucet’s dry, the fridge is warm, and the National Guard just rolled through Main Street like it was Baghdad.

Now let me tell you something I learned the hard way: most folks think they’re prepared, but they’re not. They’ve got bug-out bags and tactical flashlights, maybe even a freeze-dried meal or two. But when martial law hits—and I mean real-deal, door-kicking, curfew-packing, power-cutting martial law—it ain’t the obvious stuff that’ll trip you up. It’s the little things. The overlooked stuff. The cheap, everyday tricks that keep you fed, safe, quiet, and under the radar.

See, I wrote this book because I got tired of all the shiny survival books that read like military manuals or sci-fi fantasies. That’s not real life. Real life is figuring out how to keep your kids calm when the power’s been out for three days and the neighbor's house just got looted. It’s knowing how to stash cash where no looter’s gonna think to look. It’s how to wipe your butt when there’s no toilet paper and you don’t want to open your door for anything or anyone.

I’m not here to scare you. I’m here to help you. Because once the panic sets in, it’s too late to Google “how to survive martial law.” The time to think smart is now—before the grocery store shelves are empty, before the internet goes black, before you hear boots on the street at 2 a.m. and realize no one’s coming to help.

Everything I share in this book comes from real trial-and-error. Some of it’s embarrassing. Some of it’s funny (in hindsight). But all of it is real. This ain’t about playing Rambo. This is about being the gray man, the quiet family, the one house in the dark that nobody notices.

So buckle up, friend. Pour yourself a strong cup of coffee—or filtered rainwater, if you’re already livin’ the life—and read close. Because these are the tips most folks overlook, but the ones you’ll wish you had when the trucks stop rolling and the rules get rewritten overnight.

Let’s get to it.

—Ben Cooper
(Just a guy with a shovel, a plan, and a really well-hidden can of peanut butter)