Rising the Phoenix from the Radioactive Ashes?

 

It’d be an understatement to say January 2018’s events had been unnerving. It all started with a Tweet, posted by a cyberbully who, due to his well-known character flaws of self-importance, imprudence, impudence and ignorance, needs no further introduction. Said he…

 

“North Korean Leader Kim Jong Un just stated that the “Nuclear Button is on his desk at all times.” Will someone from his depleted and food starved regime please inform him that I too have a Nuclear Button, but it is a much bigger & more powerful one than his, and my Button works! — Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) January 3, 2018”

 

How reckless of “Tweetie” to further engage and enrage his temperamental North Korean nuclear nemesis… particularly considering how their past rounds of infantile squabbling have already left the entire world on the brink of WW-III.

And to what end? I mean, here we witness the so-called prez, perhaps obsessing over not measuring up below his own bloated belly’s bellybutton? Maybe compensating for that shortcoming by boasting, online, about the size of his “nuclear button”?

As if that weren’t already bad enough, on January 13th, Hawaiians faced down what they believed to be a nuclear nightmare-come-true. Indeed, they had (erroneously) received the stark warning that a ballistic missile was already en route, inward bound… that thermonuclear exchange and the annihilation of humanity was imminent.

Then, on January 15th, I had unwittingly exacerbated my own anxieties… i.e., by switching on my FM radio at precisely the wrong moment. It had been quite disconcerting to hear the Emergency Alert System attention signal already blaring away… likely the exact same menacing monotone that had needlessly scared the crap out of my Hawaiian compatriots. My first reaction… “WTF did that numbskull narcissist do now?” Yep, I actually had groaned that aloud.

Of course, in that instance, it had been an actual alert… an AMBER Alert to help track down the whereabouts of a missing, perhaps abducted child.

My nerves, nonetheless, had become a bit frazzled. I was more than ready for some much needed escapism… perhaps courtesy of the Comet TV Network? However, once more, this proved to be ill-timed. I was now watching their feature presentation: Panic In Year Zero… a low budget, post apocalyptic film… a production that would have never won any awards for special effects. BUT it sure as hell did offer up a plausible portrayal of nuclear war’s grotesque side effect… societal breakdown… e.g. the male characters, first, becoming hunter-gatherers and, next… once their testosterone poisoning began kicking in full force… they further devolved into little more than knuckle-draggers… their predominant MO being pillaging, raping and manslaughter.

Then… just about when I thought it was safe to go outside, again, and get on with my life… on January 16th, a totally unexpected flash over my home state lit up my nighttime skies and generated an accompanying, minor, sonic boom… wound up fully backlighting my closed, thickly insulated kitchen and dining room curtains and “rocking” my home’s brick, mortar and drywall. Once more I groaned, aloud, “WTF did that numbskull narcissist do now?”

All the sudden I found myself desperately searching though my brain’s “files” for some “plain vanilla” type explanation… oh… say… thundersnow. However, just as quickly as I had hatched that theory, I had to debunk it. True, there had been a heavy  snowfall on that day… BUT… the extreme cold air mass, which had descended immediately afterwards, certainly would’ve made wintertime lightening… already a meteorological rarity… even more so.

The good news was that night’s 11 o’clock news story, which fully cleared up the mystery… a meteor had plunged to Earth. Yet, I could not help but wonder. Had that rocky space debris’ flight plan, instead, sent it streaking over Washington DC, how would “Prez” Tweetie have reacted / overreacted?

Factoring in his repugnance for intellectuals and all time honored, scientific principles (e.g. recall how he stared… sans eye protection… at 2016’s solar eclipse after being warned not to), it’s easy to see how his response would’ve been to trust his (cheeseburger glutted) gut and “go ballistic”.

The late astronomer / author Carl Sagan postulated along similar lines. From his book, Cosmos… Chapter IV – Heaven and Hell… I’ve condensed his observations from pages 73 – 76 (inclusive)…

 

“In the early morning hours of June 30, 1908, in Central Siberia, a giant fireball was seen moving rapidly across the sky. Where it touched the horizon, an enormous explosion took place. It leveled some 2,000 square kilometers of forest and burned thousands of trees in a flash fire near the impact site. It produced an atmospheric shock wave that twice circled the Earth.

This remarkable occurrence is called the Tunguska Event [and] was probably caused by an icy cometary fragment about a hundred meters across – the size of a football field – weighing a million tons , moving about 30 kilometers per second, 70,000 miles per hour.

If such an impact occurred today it might be mistaken, especially in the panic of the moment, for a nuclear explosion. The cometary impact and fireball would simulate all effects of a one megaton nuclear burst, including the mushroom cloud, with two exceptions: there would be no gamma radiation or radioactive fallout.

Could a rare but natural event… trigger a nuclear war? A strange scenario: A small comet hits the Earth… and the response of our civilization is promptly to self-destruct. It might be a good idea for us to understand comets and collisions and catastrophes a little better than we do… this is a real possibility and underscores the dangers in an age of nuclear weapons of not monitoring impacts from space better than we do.”

 

January’s unsettling events have since compelled me to seriously evaluate how I’d react IF… more likely WHEN… “Tweetie” provokes WW-III. One certainty… we could never expect a “prez”, ignorant enough to use social media for such an antisocial purpose, to ever effectively cope with the resultant nuclear wasteland… and far more importantly, even begin to sense the “survivors'” physical pain, mental anguish and emotional drain. Nope, he could never rise that phoenix from the radioactive ashes.

Under those dire circumstances, the “survivors”, most assuredly, would need flawless leadership… someone possessing the resolve, resourcefulness and reasoning power of Sci-Fi botanist / astronaut, Mark Watney… portrayed by actor Matt Damon… in the Hollywood big screen film, The Martian. To synopsize the plot and Watney’s plight, after winding up marooned on the otherwise barren of life, totally inhospitable Mars, he was left to figure out… every single minute of every single “Sol” (day)… all that he’d need to accomplish to survive. He wound up summing everything up, thusly

 

“So, in the face of overwhelming odds, I’m left with only one option: I’m gonna have to science the shit out of this.”

 

 

So what would the Trumpian response be? Well, once the fallout had settled, the holed up in his underground “prez” would emerge from his lead encased bunker… utterly clueless as to how to cope with an unearthly, uninhabitable Earth. He could never possess even a minuscule fraction of Mark Watney’s textbook knowhow and survivor instincts.

Worse yet, the “prez” would know no real life “Watneys” and even if the scientific community did step forward to offer their advice and services, “Tweetie” would still turn a deaf ear… would denigrate and spurn them. Consequently, the “prez” would preside over his world… no strike that… rule over a shithole nation and planet of his own making. Even far worse than that, he would still expect high praise and applause from countless hordes of beleaguered walking cadavers who’d be sloughing off their burnt flesh, puking their guts out… and dropping dead.

Returning to the here and now… IF… more likely WHEN… our Emergency Alert System starts signaling the end of the world… I’ll be lacing up my Sketchers and jogging, full speed ahead, towards Ground Zero… not away from it. I mean, given the two options of…

A. Existing within Donald Trump’s virtually lifeless, hopeless, burnt to a cinder, irradiated shithole nation and planet.
B. Dying and taking my chances with attaining either eternal life or facing down godforsaken oblivion.

I’d opt-in to choice “B”.

So, my readers, my comment section is the venue to tell the whole world what you’d choose. It’ll only take a few seconds to type in your one character… either your “A” or “B”… response.

Of course, other lengthier comments are also welcome.

 

 

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A Poetic Acrostic (One Quick Limerick #028)

 

Observe Der Führer bleat / let his Tweets fly,

Frothed with news-speak, bald-faced lies, fierce outcry,

Un-invites / ousts lib press crews,

Calls their whole truths the “fake news”,

Key free speech / press rights he’ll condemn / defy!

 

You can access more original limericks, poetry and lyrical parodies by clicking onto my poetry category.

 

 

Who Put the Bug Up Tweety’s… uh… Tower?

#45 is at it again. Via his Tweeting, he’s making what appears to be a wild allegation. Sans mentioning sources or citing any corroborating evidence, he claims that during his 2016 campaign, President Barack Obama resorted to using Tricky Dicky’s Watergate tactics… for the express purpose of wiretapping Tweety’s Tower.

Hmmm… if true… to what end? Hell, none of that helped elect Hillary Clinton. I mean he does realize he’s #45, doesn’t he?

OK… let’s give Tweety the benefit of the doubt and say he’s not reporting “fake news”.

Yes, I do get it… it’s only natural for us to feel violated when we’re spied on. But what Tweety seems to have forgotten is that, in our post 9/11 world, there is no such thing as privacy anymore. The NSA, Department of Homeland Security and U.S. Patriot Act have pretty much liberated everybody of our liberty.

Hell… whenever anyone… be it you, me or #45… complains about invasion of our privacy, our objections will head-on collide with this deadpanned catchphrase…

“If you have nothing to hide you have nothing to worry about.”

Anyway, what’s Tweety worried about? I mean… he’s got nothing to hide, right?

Or maybe he does?

True, Obama has denied any wrongdoing in this matter, mainly because he could not legally order a wiretap. But what if zero wrongdoing was involved? Might there have been a legitimate reason for the proper authorities ordering such a wiretap? Oh… say… Tweety always fawning over Vladimir Putin?

Of course we cannot dismiss the possibility that this “bug” could even belong to Vladimir Putin, himself! Does #45 actually believe that Putin’s cyberattacking / meddling in the 2016 U.S. elections (which helped install him into the Oval Office) comes without any price tag at all?

#45 needs to realize that control freak Putin is still calling all the shots, which necessitates keeping close tabs on his puppet. Worse yet, since Tweety’s congressional cronies don’t seem to be concerned, in the least, there’s not one damned thing anyone can do to stop such Russian interference.

Ironically, while #45 is constantly obsessing about building walls around America there seems to be little talk of any plans to fortify the firewalls around U.S. cyberspace.

Of course we cannot dismiss the possibility that Tweety’s Tweets could be akin to “Wag the Dog” tactics… his feeble attempt to distract investigative journalists… prevent them from expeditiously exposing what’s really going on between Putin and #45.

Of course we cannot dismiss the possibility that #45’s Tweets are to either make him appear mentally disturbed… or he actually is so afflicted. Either way, it would provide a powerful defense whenever anyone attempts to hold Tweety accountable for his deplorable (perhaps even treasonous) conduct.

1-22-17: My 2 Cents’ Worth… 2 Pennies For Your Thoughts?

Occam tells us that the simplest explanation is usually the truth.

If so, that’d mean that whenever “Tweety” is Twittering, he’s actually frittering away his precious time excessively obsessing over inconsequential crap.

But… what if these Tweets are a smokescreen… being posted by one of his surrogates… a devious stratagem expressly designed to distract the press corps from their real duties… being investigative journalists?

If so, that’d mean, within that oval shaped, corporate boardroom, some really dark, creepy, unethical and illegal crap could easily unfold unabated… and, worse yet, go totally unnoticed.

————————————————————————–

DISCLAIMER: With 7+ billion souls inhabiting our world I’d never claim to be the first person to have ever opined, proclaimed, penned, published and/or posted words along these lines.

Nevertheless, that’s My 2 cents’ Worth. Now… my Qs for you…

Do you agree? Disagree? Like? Dislike? In other words…

A Penny For Your Thoughts?

Uh… seeing how I’ve just expressed “My 2 Cents’ Worth”… in the spirit of treating readers, followers and commenters as equals, I’ve opted to update that Q thusly…

2 Pennies For Your Thoughts?

Lean ‘n’ Mean Tweets (99 Word Blog #072)

This ten-year blogging veteran realizes short posts are more popular. Via my 99 Word Blog experiment, I’ve been striving to use the least words to say the most.

I wouldn’t dare attempt this within the constraints of 140 character Tweets.

Regrettably, Tweets are one particular demagogue’s MO.

While finding common ground with him re political, socioeconomic, scientific and ecological issues is virtually impossible… can’t we agree that Twitter is NEVER the proper forum for him to be engaging in nuclear saber rattling?

At best, Twitter is merely the venue to draw attention to one’s lengthier, more judiciously worded posts.

99 Word Blog (#032) Blue Ivy Is Beautiful

Anti-social media cyberbullies have been acting like sharks in a feeding frenzy… verbally attacking Beyoncé’s defenseless, 4-year-young daughter, Blue Ivy.

Twitter user/abuser Keltheyrich tweeted thusly…

“So are we all just supposed to pretend that Blue Ivy isn’t ugly as hell forever?”

Regrettably, such unwarranted, mean-spirited, ego-bruising assaults are hardly new. In 1998, misogynist Senator John McCain told his malicious “joke” where he called 18-year-young, First Daughter Chelsea Clinton ugly.

The actual ugliness, here, involves NOT the attackees’ faces but actually resides between the ears of the attackers, whose narrow definition of beauty is as narrow as their ugly minds!