Even more reliable than Punxsutawney Phil on Groundhog Day, the first appearance of the doomsday peddlers suggests all sorts of economic and social brouhaha in the offing. So far the purveyors of emergency rations have yet to be needed, but you never know. You never know.

The first such vectors of misinformation I can remember arrived during the outbreak of the Cold War in the 1950s. The bear of the Union of Soviet Soclialist Republics was making threatening noises and we were scanning the skies for bombers that didn’t say U.S. Air Force on the side. We were all acquainted with the map of the city that had concentric circles drawn on it showing the amount of damage that would be inflicted on the population if the Soviets dropped a big one right on City Hall.

Imagine the ego that assumed an enemy would want to bomb City Hall and not the ship yards or refineries. But that was how they figured it in those days. So out came squads of salesmen peddling dried food you could stock your bomb shelter with.

Everyone who was anyone had his own private bomb shelter equipped with guns to ward off imprudent neighbors, barrels of water and, of course, lots of dried food. Everyone just assumed that in a nuclear confrontation, we will be at home ready to duck into our underground warrens like so many rabbits.

As you know, the big confrontation remained in the threat stage and never materialized. That wasn’t a bad result, but all those stored provisions either have been thrown away or should be. Even dried food deteriorates after a few decades.

I don’t know what happens to the water, but all the water I ever bought (in containers) had an expiration date on it. When water gets old does it go bad? Does it separate into its component parts, leaving you with a bottle of hydrogen and a little oxygen. No help to slake your thirst or rehydrate 1950s vintage tomato soup.

According to these self-appointed experts, it is now time to hoard provisions against the coming:

1. Currency crisis

2. Housing crisis

3. Food crisis

4. Fuel crisis

5. Whatever crisis du jour.

You may still have provisions left from Y2K. Remember how that was going to end civilization? It may have taxed civility, but civilization marched on. Don’t rely on those products. Y2K provisions were specially designed for that particular crisis. To use them now would be like trying to kill a rhino with a pocket knife. You might get the job done, but it wouldn’t be real easy.

Don’t get hung up on that rhino reference. We hardly ever get rhinos around here any more. No, those are javelinas and are said to be tasty, though tough.

So here they come again. The merchants of exemption from the coming apocalypse. They are offering packages of their products ranging from a few hundred to several thousands of dollars. Each explains how many people it will keep alive for how long. They recommend three years’ supply for each family member, excluding the dog. The latter may become emergency provisions himself if push comes to shove.

Oh, and you’ll need a wind-up radio so you can get official information. Which stations will remain on the air? Beep, squawk, beep, beep.

Currently, some government office is regaling us with advice as to how we should have a plan in case disaster strikes. They candidly admit there’s nothing we can do to stop it, but we should have a plan anyway just in case. Probably the Office of Improbable Planning.

The comforting part of this is that the doomsday merchants have always been wrong. After we stocked our shelters with guns, gold, food, drink, and miscellaneous necessities, we have never had to use them. And that’s good.

So stock your retreat and charge it off to insurance. Have plenty of beer and get used to drinking it warm. Even if there is no crisis, you can always use the provisions. Powdered hamburger, anyone?

E-mail comments for publication to editor@azbiz.com. Contact Lionel Waxman at territorial@waxmanmedia.com. Waxman’s Flashpoint commentaries are published in The Daily Territorial.