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Then there arose in the land of the free a new idea, well an old idea resuscitated. An idea that should have been drowned like a misformed kitten. Yet was not.
And out of the soft, out of the complacent, in memory no more, as clock clowns tinker with just how close we are to annihilation, two to twelve, one and a half? Existential accountants seeking annual publicity.
And as we no longer suck in a breath when yet another school shooting pops up on the news feed, so The memory of Nagasaki, Hiroshima, Nevada, Bikini and even mu aroa slides off a cliff as those who lived them take the blast wave, the flash, the radiation and above all, the fallout with them to hades.
Hades and the burning, Dresden, Tokyo, does anyone remember? Does anyone care? Flesh rendered asunder, the screams, the quiet, the blind eye turned. “They started it.”, Poland and Pearl harbour. Of course, the grandmother roasted alive with her pet cat clinging to her, never ordered anyone to bomb anywhere but has paid for those orders, no tip required.
And in the forgetting comes the concept,
comes the conscious self delusion. Maybe, with the right set of circumstances we could, like, maybe, you know, start, win and survive a nuclear war, no! Call it a conflict, a nuclear conflict! Almost cuddly.
A shudder runs through grandmothers and their cats everywhere.
So stand proud people of the world, from Munich all those Olympiads ago to the gassings of Syria, all these will pale before the all conquering atom.
Will the surviving mineshaft dwellers watch “Dr. Stranglove” with a sense of irony? Will they watch it with the knowledge of its prophetic powers? 2001 a misprint of 2100. All hail the mighty Kubrick!
And still there are people, strategic planners, arguing for a first strike on North Korea. “Why, Hell Mr President, while we’re at it, why don’t we fix those damned Iranians?”