California Man’s ‘Earthquake Prep’ Go Bag Just Contains 72 Hours of Vape Pens and a Single Uncrustable
LOS ANGELES — In what experts are calling the most relatable disaster response since the Great Toilet Paper Panic of 2020, local graphic designer Chad Thunderson, 34, has revealed that his much-touted “earthquake go bag” is stocked exclusively with a dozen disposable vape pens, a single strawberry Uncrustables, and a half-empty bottle of Monster Energy that has been sitting in his car since last September.
“I saw the chandelier shaking and I just felt this rush of adrenaline, you know?” Thunderson told reporters as he stood in the smoldering wreckage of his Studio City apartment’s living room. “I grabbed my bag, threw on my Crocs in sport mode, and I was ready. Then I opened it up and realized I’m going to die of scurvy before the aftershocks even stop.”
The 4.7 magnitude tremor that rattled Southern California this morning was, by all accounts, a 15-second reminder that we are all just one tectonic plate shift away from realizing our emergency plans are a complete joke. While FEMA recommends a 72-hour survival kit with water, food, first aid, and a flashlight, a scathing new report from the California Governor’s Office of Emergency Services suggests that approximately 83% of Angelenos have instead opted for a “vibes-based” preparedness strategy.
“We’ve analyzed thousands of these bags,” said Dr. Linda Park, a disaster preparedness coordinator who looked visibly exhausted during the press conference. “I’ve seen bags with nothing but a phone charger, a bag of gluten-free pretzels, and a Criterion Collection Blu-ray of ‘Parasite.’ I saw one that was just a reusable grocery bag containing exactly one avocado and a copy of ‘The Alchemist.’ We are not going to survive as a species.”
The internet, of course, did exactly what the internet does when faced with the fragility of human existence: it made memes. Reddit’s r/LosAngeles exploded with threads dissecting the collective failure of the city’s emergency infrastructure. User u/Seismic_Sally posted a photo of her own “go bag,” which contained a hair straightener, a tube of mascara, and a bottle of rosé.
“I’m not saying I’m ready for the Big One,” she commented. “But I’m saying if I’m going to be trapped under a freeway overpass for three days, I want to look hot and be slightly tipsy.”
The thread quickly devolved into a brutal AITA-style judgment session, with users roasting each other for their pathetic survival kits. One user, u/PrepperForTheClout, posted a picture of a tactical backpack filled with freeze-dried meals, water purification tablets, and a trauma kit, only to be immediately accused of being a “try-hard” and a “beta cuck” by multiple commenters.
“Bro, you’re not surviving the apocalypse, you’re just auditioning for a Nat Geo show nobody asked for,” wrote user u/SoylentGreenIsTofu. “Meanwhile, I have a vape and a dream.”
The hypocrisy is thick enough to chew on. We are a culture that demands Amazon Prime two-day shipping but can’t be bothered to buy a $20 hand-crank radio. We will spend $80 on a single dinner at a taco spot that requires a three-hour wait, but we scoff at the idea of buying a five-gallon water jug. The earthquake was a humbling reminder that we are not prepared for a power outage longer than the runtime of an HBO drama, let alone a seismic event that rearranges the plumbing.
Local hardware stores reported a predictable spike in sales of flashlights and batteries approximately 47 minutes after the shaking stopped, which is the most California thing ever: panic-buying after the danger has passed. “I had a guy come in and buy three generators and a chainsaw at 11 AM,” said a frustrated Ace Hardware employee. “I told him, ‘Sir, the earthquake already happened. You’ve missed the window for preparedness. You’re just cosplaying as a frontiersman now.’”
Meanwhile, the true heroes of the day were the LA County emergency services, who were forced to deploy their actual resources to deal with the fallout. The USGS reported that the epicenter was located near the San Fernando Valley, a region known for its strip malls, inexplicably good ramen, and a general attitude of “it’ll probably be fine.”
“We had 47 calls for ‘smoke smelling weird,’ 12 calls for ‘a weird noise I heard,’ and three calls from people who thought the shaking was just a really heavy bass drop from their neighbor’s Subaru,” said an LAPD dispatcher who wished to remain anonymous. “One guy filed a complaint because his avocado toast fell off the counter. We’re a joke. We are a beautiful, sun-drenched, taco-filled joke.”
And that’s the real takeaway, isn’t it? We are a city built on a fault line, a population that has chosen to live on the edge of the Pacific Plate because the weather is nice and the In-N-Out is fresh. We know the Big One is coming. We know we should have a plan. But instead, we have a go bag with a crustless sandwich and a nicotine delivery system. We are not a people who prepare. We are a people who react. And our reaction is to buy a chainsaw after the tree has already fallen.
As of press time, Chad Thunderson was seen sitting on his curb, vaping, and staring at his Uncrustables, debating whether to eat it now or save it for the next tremor. He hasn’t decided. But he does have a full battery on his phone. And in LA, that’s basically the same as being prepared.
Final Thoughts
Here’s a conclusion in the voice of a seasoned journalist:
After covering quakes for decades, what strikes me most about today’s temblor isn’t the magnitude on paper—it’s the haunting silence that followed. The real story is always the cumulative stress on a network of ancient faults, and today’s event is a blunt reminder that California’s “Big One” clock is ticking, not resetting. We can retrofit buildings and update apps, but no amount of technology can prepare us for the unpredictability of the earth beneath our feet.