Toward
And now I am becoming very angry with you for not writing on me. I have bugs on myne ankles and face, and for this I blame you! No more Mr. Nyce Guy. From now on, ‘Mr. Azz-Hole.’
When you write, is like something from police. When you speek, you have fart in my face again. It is not taking long for me to be coming for you.
No wonder you were born in Munich after World War II AND the Korean Conflict! And before that, World War One.
There has not been a war before I was born, except for the French and Indian Wars, and I was not even born yet, so, Who is Innocent, and Who is The Guilty One? Let me be the judge of That. You may approach the bench.
-- Neglected Mike
Mike wakes up to find Chernobyl on fire (1986):
Russia becomes the first nation to cry for help to the world, just yesterday! Moscow is bathing in radiation for 5 days now. May 1st celebration-exposure tomorrow! For the Kremlin leaders.
Ironic that Russia should nuke itself. Lay waste their farmland. That means their budget is gone for a decade or more. We are attempting to win our war with them by spending Ivan into the ground on weapons, leaving us with some pocket change, but Ivan with nothing, and no excuse. Guns, but no butter. Sockets, but no eyes.
The first, international cry for help. The West Germans offered robots – the only thing that can go in to fight that fire now. Ivan has to either accept entrance into their facilities by Germans robot teams and American techs, or keep roasting Himself. Either one would be too bitter a pill. Hope they don’t opt to take us down with them.
If this “fire” burns for long, I think the poison will be unbelievable there. We could see the equivalent of 5 nations made uninhabitable, through complete poisoning of the ground water. The cloud is drifting over the North Pole now, to hit this coast today or within 10 days. Could they be meaning to nuke us on May Day? If so, it would give special meaning to that old, distress signal, pioneered by the French (“m’aidez!”), always in trouble.
But the bottom line is: the best things in life are cheap I mean free, so we should be able to get clean-air Clean Aire at a reasonable cost, soon. If for nothing else, we need it to fill our car tires to roll around on.
It’s suitable that this krypton cloud should avoid the rest of the civilized world to hit this, American West Coast first. Balance of Nature: this area is growing 44% faster than any other in America. Look out the window, you can see it grow! Not up or to the sides, but toward.
And next year, for sure: Gridlock: the traffic jam they’ll have to use helicopters to remove the middle from. The one we’ve all been waiting to see. If I had chosen to stay, I might have been in one. The usual listening to the radio and meditating might not have worked to get me through that.
Meanwhile, the Swedes were the ones to “demand” of the Russians the source of the radioactive cloud floating from Mother Russia over Scandinavia. The Russki: “Huh? Cloud? Oh! That!! I was shaving drunk this morning – no, Saturday! – shaving drunk and accidentally nuked myself, it was 4:10 a.m., damned People’s Hours, anyway! Five Year Plan for survival in the subway tunnels. What am I going to eat? My food all got poisoned.”
I wonder to what degree Swedish citizens feel sympathy for the people of Kiev and Moscow? Terrible catastrophe.
Like the football headline announcing an 82-0 loss to some major power by a smaller school: “HORRIBLE NIGHTMARE.” I wish I’d written that. Of course, my editor would probably have changed it to ‘FITFUL NIGHT’S REST.”
Oh, I feel the first of the nuclear nastiness already! Poor Russians. The last item on the nightly news was their Death Notice. What if everyone in Kiev dies? And Moscow? The entire Politburo, except for one man? “Last Laugher,” they’d call him, and we’d treat a guy like that with kid gloves (and a giant hammer).
Ed. Note:
Notes from the past, like a 1960s episode of Sixty Minutes, anticipating smart houses by 2000 and air cars by 1984. One wants to find it all quaint -- these speculations from an earlier time. To find it naïve. Going through our father’s writings, I found a journal entry written before his death in the seventies, listing a stream of things he couldn’t help but worry about. All of them have proved to be valid and far-sighted concerns, not a few involving oil companies and the Middle East. Reading through Michael’s concerns about nuclear mishap and international cooperation, pollution, our relationship with Russia, and gridlock, I am disquieted by my inability to shake my head and smile. They confided these concerns twenty or thirty years ago, but it still doesn’t feel like the coast is clear. I think it is still too soon to laugh.