Smelling The Roses

I’d rather be vaporized than linger in nuclear winter.

Backing up from that unsolicited slice of sunshine, I’d rather not be thinking in those terms at all. But it seems this is where we are now, thanks to Vladimir Putin and his willingness to go there. Whether or not we readily admit or acknowledge, we are currently living our days under the threat of nuclear catastrophe. The end of life as we’ve known it. And I don’t see how that’s hyperbole.

This must be a piece of what Putin was hinting at after the opening salvos when he talked about anyone who got in his way seeing things they’d never seen before, or somethng like that. We are dealing with a cornered rat now, a madman with a chip on his shoulder. One might be thinking that things are developing just as he planned.

We can only hope that there are cooler heads, humbled by and cognizant of the gravity of this moment, and willing to be heroic in the face of a command, should it ever come, to let the missiles fly. To say “no” to that.

In the meantime, I will count each day I awaken to relative peace and warmth and lights that still work as more of a blessing than usual.

This is where we are now. And Donald Trump thinks Putin’s moves have been “genius.”

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