We all know there will be plenty of repeats of what happened here in Charlotte this week, particularly once Trump vanquishes Sick Hillary and sends the Clinton Crime Syndicate staggering off into the sunset for good. Vox posts a practical guide to escaping them intact, from Peter Grant.
You need to have a plan, at the first sign of such troubles, to get away from the riots before they get out of control. Make arrangements with family and friends, have bug-out bags and vehicles and plans in place (including sufficient fuel to get out of trouble without having to stop at a gas station, because they’ll be magnets for looters). Don’t wait until it’s too late. Far better to get clear of potential trouble, then return if the trouble doesn’t materialize, rather than wait until you’re sure there’s trouble, but not leave yourself enough space and time to get away from it.
That’s likely to be difficult once riots become established. A standard police tactic is to isolate the violence, establishing a perimeter to prevent it spreading. Police will wait at that perimeter until they can see the unrest ebbing, then move inward once again to re-establish control. That works for them, and helps to minimize casualties caused by them (and the political fallout from such casualties)…but it won’t help you if you’re trapped inside that perimeter. The rioters will be all around you, and you won’t be able to avoid them. That’s not a good place to be.
It sure ain’t. Vox follows up with a personal experience:
Peter is right about how easy it is to be taken by surprise, though. We were in Rome walking through the streets in a nearly empty quarter one day when we heard a dull roar. It was hard to tell what it was, or exactly from what direction it was coming. I was curious, since it could have been anything from immigrants to ultras, so my friend and I had the women and children stay back while we went to see what was going on. It kept getting louder, but there was nothing to see until we turned a corner to encounter a large mass of several hundred dark-skinned people who looked like Bangladeshis or Sri Lankans. They were loudly demonstrating against deportations or the lack of work permits or something, and while it wasn’t even remotely dangerous, I won’t forget the shock of suddenly encountering such a loud and overpowering mass of humanity without much in the way of warning besides that dull roar.
And I can attest that having a handgun wouldn’t have accomplished a damn thing. Frankly, a belt-fed .50 caliber might not have been enough without a minefield.
God might sort ’em out eventually, but you’re not likely to be able to kill ’em all yourself.