Happy New Year from the blast zone
The last time I truly felt fear for my physical being was as a child in the early 1980s, during the end of the Cold War--undoubtedly because I had seen The Day After (1983) on TV at a tender age. Possibly also because we had "tornado/nuclear attack" drills at my elementary school, in which we learned, I kid you not, to curl up into little balls under our desks. As I grew up in a mountainous area not prone to tornadoes, I saw through that one even at age six. At least they were trying not to freak us out completely.
It is certain that some of the fears I feel now--fears of dirty bombs at the Capitol, of IEDs on my morning Metro ride--are no more rational or merited than my childhood fear of nuclear war was. Fears of a one-party government takeover are another story, history shows. Next time: why the Weimar Germans and post-WWII Czechs didn't see it coming until it was too late. [Continued here.]
Labels: apocalypse





