I was surfing the net—instead of working on the edits for my next book (Stranger in My House, which is supposed to be released on April 11), when I came across a curious website: ManCrates. ManCrates has a “Man”ifesto which says, in part, that they believe in “gifts that stir a primal craze of chest bumps and cheers, not polite half-smiles.” I confess this is something I’d like to witness at my own house. I was hooked.

There were a few categories to choose from, but I’d come for the ManCrates so I passed over the Jerky selection and the AmmoCans, and when for the crates, which boast that they are sealed with ill-intention and come with their own crowbar (presumably to open the crate). I expected to be confronted with an arsenal of weaponry or at least a machine gun or two. At least that’s what “sealed with ill-intention” means to me.

It turns out men aren’t nearly as exotic as the advertising would have me believe. There was a crate of “personalized barware,” the “saloon nuts” mini-crate and, of course, the “booze-infused jerky” crate. But in the midst of this ordinary-ness, something extraordinary emerged, which left me wondering if guys are really as sane as they make themselves out to be.

Between the “caffeine-fiend” crate and the “cow-pocalypse crate” were these three: the Zombie Survival crate, the Zombie Suppression crate and the Zombie Annihilation crate. Lest you think these are gags, they range in price from $99 to $179. At that price, these better work on real Zombies. All the selections provide real machetes and knives (why not just shot those dang Zombies) plus a “survival guide” (hopefully your man will have time to read the entire book before the Zombies arrive) and various oddities, including duct tape and Spam.

I wondered about the last item, but ManCrates promises that its gift are delivered with “absolutely no instructions” so I guess we’ll be on our own when the Zombies arrive. That said, I’m going to recommend to my own valentine, Mr. Meat-and-Potatoes, that we leave the Spam outside the door to scare the Zombie off. If that doesn’t work, we can wrap ourselves in duct tape and pretend to be space-age mummies. Are Zombies afraid of mummies? I hope so.

Anyway for a chest-bumping kind of Valentine’s Day, machete yourself some flowers and open up the Spam.