What’s Next

There was a time in our lives that as far as the nuclear race went, we knew who would blow our country to kingdom come, we just did not know when the missiles would start falling from the sky. Hollywood liked to remind us as often as possible that one day the survivors would be scrounging the countryside in mutated form living off the remains of others and that one honest go God hero would be there to save the rest of us from being served to the mutants with hot sauce.

Of course, in true Hollywood fashion the hero was never the run of the mill guy next door, he had to be longhaired, handsome and all the women would fall at his feet after saving them from their death and future meals of mutants everywhere. Just once I wanted to see the hero turn out to be a balding middle-aged man, little pot-belly, jeans down past the proverbial plumbers butt-crack , he would break through the door saving the damsel at the last possible moment and real men everywhere would be vindicated right there on the spot.

Now we no longer are threatened of assured mutual destruction and Hollywood type mutation by simply one country, we are threatened by multiple, Iran, Korea and every little country left over from the break up of Russia that overnight inherited the capabilities of wiping out the human race with the push of a button, we are so lucky.

Back then, everyone knew a family where the father always talked about building a bomb shelter while walking around the house pacing off feet, carrying a copy of mechanics illustrated under his arm, muttering strange things about Russia. Normally we laughed about it and went about our lives caring less, but someone, somewhere must have actually built one of those things, maybe it’s time to find them, or maybe we just need to go about our lives and see what happens.