Trump On Fox: Says He Told China's Xi Those 'Beautiful' Tomahawks 'Headed For Iraq' -- Was Quickly Corrected By News Anchor Who Knew He Meant Syria
The fake news source that is the man with his finger on the literal, not proverbial, button. Heaven help us all, the following happened:
But it gets worse, a day later, the MOAB, and now, sabre rattling at the DPRK.
THIS IS WHO WE HAVE AS COMMANDER IN CHIEF:
Trump on North Korea: “After listening for 10 minutes, I realized it’s not so easy”
More thoughts this afternoon, Gentle Readers... I must post as I find time...
Dreamt, last night, that WW3 started.
Well, can't say for sure if it was a world war, since the dream ended after the detonation of the (first?) rather large device. Somewhere very far away, due west (I live in Oakland, CA).
The love of my life was not with me; for some reason he had made his farewells (until, it was assumed, next we met) sometime during the dénouement of the dream.
He would for some reason - no doubt closely guarded - be accompanying, or escorting, the mission. I remember the explanation he gave: "It really will be the safest place for me to be."
In the dream, I did not understand him at the time. Until, right around dusk (still in the dream), I was walking home, almost there, headed approximately northward, and crossing the final intersection before my building.
I heard a >pop< -- more like a sharp cracking sound, very far away. It is one of those telescoping dream effects, that I knew it was very far away, but still heard it, and, turning to my left, saw what I saw.
Between the buildings, where, in the years I have lived there, I had enjoyed beholding countless beautiful sunsets, far off, ocean in between, its unfathomably hot, incredibly dense lethality zeroed to a center not on the ground but some distance above, an orange and white fireball rapidly unfolding, incredibly bright. Doing that thing that some nuclear bombs do, where it looks like a video that has skipped frames, because too much is going on at once.
I forget which bomb test it reminded me of.
I realized what mission my love was critical to, and woke to full consciousness, abruptly.
Figured out the direction, etc, as I lay there.
It has been about twenty seven years since I dreamt on this topic.
I used to have incredibly realistic nightmares, all five senses included, at least once a month and sometimes once or twice a week, starting when I was maybe six or seven and only subsiding in my early twenties.
I have experienced, first hand, the effect of all manner of bombs. Enumerated them. Feared sleep from them. Been at ground zero, where my last thought (Stupid, stupid, senseless waste) persists from a kind of inertia an infinitely long nanosecond after my body has been vaporized into hot dense wet light.
Been far enough away that it takes two weeks or more to die, and you feel your mind disintegrating along with your body, grateful for moments not spent in agony.
Been farther out, having to cope with the despair, and the panic, and the sheer impossibility of keeping fallout out of your house and your food and your body. My cat got out, I remember once, and was crying to be let back in, and I looked through the peephole, and she was covered in what looked like big ashy snowflakes. Her long black fur, no longer glossy, had already begun to fall out in patches, but she was sitting straight-backed with her tail curled around her feet; it had not yet sunk in that the incomprehensible, happening around her, had happened to her as well.
I have lived through -- well mostly not lived through -- all manner of devices, high and low yield, tactical, air-burst, underwater, neutron, lithium, ICBM, rogue, you name it. It got to the point where I set a small goal for myself, one I thought I might be, should be, able to accomplish. A simple thing, I thought, a habit that to me would be easy to acquire, a lesson I felt I, a gifted student, should be able to learn, especially with so many opportunities to practice.
I just wanted not to look.
I think I managed it once, near the end, in my early twenties. Before that, for years before that, the last thing I thought as I died was Shit. You looked.
One final note:
This morning, after waking, my honey pointed out that none of these nightmares had yet come true. This made me feel a little better, but not much.
Notably, there were two types of nuclear scenarios with which The Powers That Be in my dreamworld had not seen fit to torture me, and with which I therefore had not had the misfortune to have had any familiarity. One was death by the effects of Cobalt-60.
The other was the aftereffects, environmental and political, of a First Strike by the United States.
I realize there could be other circumstances that could serve as causes as a result of which the effects of last nights dream might seem plausible. I would like to hear what they are, it would make me feel less uneasy.
Please, feel free to comment.
Be seeing you.
Bookmark one of these:
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If you are not signed in (like you might not want to be unless you either want to use Voice or Gmail, or you are feeling philanthropic toward poor, starved Big Data Aggregation) you will have to do so, but will be automatically redirected whether you like it or not (how does that work I wonder).
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You may actually, as I did, feel a little less insulted.
Just a little, unfortunately: the lack of basic respect and appreciation for the End User is reintroduced by the æsthetically-challenged 'Try The New Dumb Layout' un-ex-out-of-able banner monstrosity. I haven't figured out how to close that yet.
But I'm trying.
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AP, Feb 10, 2017: [T]ens of thousands of common murres… starved and washed ashore on beaches from California to Alaska… “it’s because there’s no fish out there, anywhere, over a very large area,” [John Piatt, biologist for the U.S. Geological Survey] said. To see such effect over two sizeable marine ecosystems is extraordinary, he said… Common murres eat small forage fish [which] were largely absent when the National Marine Fisheries Service conducted surveys in summer 2015… A conservative extrapolation indicates 500,000 or more common murres died, Piatt said. Nearly all were emaciated… “In 2016, we had widespread breeding failure at all of the colonies in the Gulf of Alaska, as well as the Bering Sea,” Renner said. “It was a highly unusual event. Murres don’t fail regularly.”… “They died of starvation because there was no food,” Piatt said. “There was no food because there was no fish.”…
Temperatures as high as 7° above average are being blamed (see this search).
I thought I would see if it had ever been that hot, and when it had, if ocean birds had died -- suspecting,as I do, some other cause at play.
Well, gentle reader, at least according to NOAA, it has never been this hot.
Stills used to make the above gif :
Be seeing you.
First seen on Twitter.
Satire (such as is, above, featured) is a form of free speech (such as is, of a functioning body politic, the lifeblood) protected by United States Laws (such as are still, as of the time of this post, in effect).
Be seeing you.