Waiting to be Nuked

Good thing I don’t work on the Daily Show. I don’t know how I’d laugh or make light of Kim Jong-il’s nuclear weapon that has the capability to reach California. (Damn, I always live in the cities in America that get hit.) I’d be the DS staffer that is laying under a table in the writer’s room in the fetal position, better yet, the crash landing position.

Will there ever be a time in my life when I’m not being told that someone is about to nuke me? When I was a kid my mom told me that Boston was the #1 target for Russia because of MIT and our vast bomb storage under Route 128. Ridiculous, I know. But YOU try to shake the weird things your parents said to you while your brain was still gelatinous and gooey, ready to just let information stick to it.

So, when the actual news is telling me that my state is a target, that this dictator is out of control and that the person who is going to reason with this dictator is a war-mongering ex frat-boy, I get a little nervous.

I also get a little excited. And confused. If we’re bombed, I don’t have to worry about this painful crown (possible root canal) that I have to get in July. I don’t have to worry about the bill either. On the other hand, I’m only 31 and that’s not how I want to go, in a ball of terror.

It reminds me of that episode of Amazing Stories, where this woman was given power to stop time. And as a nuclear bomb was flying overheard, about to land, she stood in the manic parking lot of the local grocery store, and pressed her fingers together and stopped time. SHE could keep on living but alone and with “frozen” people all around her, while a nuke hung in the sky. I could go for a scenario like that. Okay, so I MUST die at the hands of evil dictators? Fine. Send the bomb. Let me stop it in the air, I’ll do some intense Buddhism 101 and other spiritual stuff, prepare myself for death, etc. and then I promise to un-stop time and let the bomb do it’s work.

I hope that no one takes this opportunity to write an energy-sucking diatribe about foreign policy and reminds me of the Cuban Missile Crisis and the Cold War right here on my blog comments (or worse my personal email.) I get it. News likes to scare. It’s never as bad as we think. Have we been nuked yet? I know. I know. But STILL, to live in a world where I’m constantly being pointed at with a big bomb and told that I should get the facts and rationalize why it can’t happen….it’s draining people. When I pull up to the office I work in, I just think, “Please don’t let it end here.”

I’m a peaceful person. Most people are peaceful persons. And the people with all of the power are usually psychotic killers. Doesn’t seem fair? Who wouldn’t want to believe in an afterlife? The man who prescribes my klonopin always asks me, “What the hell do you want to live so long for anyway?” Easier said than done when you’re 65. I’d like to get to be 65. And then when I’m elderly, have my family around me to say goodbye. Actually I won’t have any family because I refuse to have children and I assume people in my family who are older than me will be dead when I’m 90 something. Hmm. Okay, so this is why people have kids. But more on that in another blog. I’m still not interested.

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