save your money.

Buy lots and lots of LEGOs. Then you're ready to build sh*t when the time comes.

Place your head between your legs and prepare to kiss your butt goodbye! ;-)

Keep a large supply of canned food in your garage or a closet, and a store a large supply of water, which you should replace frequently. Learn how to plant and grow food, even if you live in an apartment, and keep food seed on hand. Begin now, so you have enough practice (this link or any container gardening source) http://ohmyapt.apartmentratings.com/gardening.html Keep a bicycle in working order, and use it frequently. Learn as much as you can about how to make your own soaps and other cleaning products. Study as much as you can on being self-sufficient, begin practicing as much as you can. There are a lot of sources and ideas on the internet.

Start converting all your money to useful assets. Store six months of food minimum and a seed bank of NON F1 hybrids. Prepare for seeing death on a large scale, and emotionally prepare for that. Have a plan. When everything goes down, know what you will do and where you will go. In the final days before collapse, if there is warning get well away from the cities before marshal law and curfewing is implemented. Be prepared for instant collapse. The US only has tho tell the markets it cant pay its debts, and overnight everything will fall. Within a day or two everyone will be out of work, and nothing will be open. An excerpt from the science and soul of dieback and collapse, a posisble vision of how things may be The Americans, barely holding on to some semblance of a nation, are in an inchoate process of directing the full force of their military onto their own people, for even in this country of the constitution the looting and violence cannot be contained and the rule of law sustained by mere policemen. Isolationism is no longer a luxury, but rather an ominous imperative, for the global economy imploded within weeks of the Refugee Wars. And as in any Ponzi game, everyone who was caught holding the bag has gone under. Hundreds of vast container ships stuffed with the usual bounty of the Third World countries—all the toys and electronics and clothes and every other imaginable thing the indigents made in their factories for pennies—now sit in the harbors of Hamburg and Los Angeles and Newark and hundreds of other cities, with nowhere to go. The stores are still filled with these very things. Objects without value. As if gold, itself, had suddenly mysteriously moldered. No one is buying them and no one will. The whole human economic machine—with the deafening roar of all its valves, pistons and gears—was abruptly switched to OFF, leaving us in an eerie silence. Eerie, because of how fragile the whole thing really was. And the men in the ships wait in the ports, smoking cigarettes, not knowing what to do with themselves, worrying about their loved ones at home, thinking that surely the system will pick up again from where it left off and empty their vessels of these worthless goods onto the dockside platforms, and all will be as it was before. And with this same faith in Civilization, the marines safeguard these ships and the stores and the power stations and everything else that a rich man may yet own.