and the birds are singing wildly, as if they don’t know a nuclear war is brewing. I don’t think it will happen; the Chinese, god bless ’em, are pragmatists, and I suspect they’ll squash NK like a rhino on a honey badger if it comes to it. One can expect tourism to slow to a rich man’s trickle, and a few other things.
One can always be sorry for bringing children into a world where that kind of war was possible, but that means there’s three generations of us in our family that have done that. The end of the world has always been nigh. Reading family journals in translation of having to flee various places with little money and no goods has settled me somewhat. A member of the family will survive; it may not be me.
My Scythian ancestors would tell me to buy horses and head for the plains.
I’m at the eyrie. Think I’ll go write fanfic, it’s cheaper than Xanax.