OK, it IS a Dance, duelling surds and triple-entendres and thinly-veiled lies and puffery: all around. SNAFU for 'diplomacy' in white gloves. Over green-flocked tables.

That Dance is about the totally-inept-at-mouthnoises: in "our corner"
--VS--
(pretty substantially?) The. World.


Hubris aside (and for US, in '05 - I deem that an Oxy-oxymoron)
Short-of Our launching a spasm war [Rand Corp. '50s def'n] as precipitate response to say, the first detonation on US Fatherland soil?
(Though assuredly these days, precipitate-R-US)

Do we really imagine that Our Military tactics, equipment, fodder, transistors, , , shall cow the Entire Planet (for more than a few months, say?)



Rhetorical question, sorry.
little-Jesus evidently *Believes precisely that.

* (And Oh - does our smirking-fellow Believe when he believes stuff)

Rest case; taking bets:
The Antsy Armageddon Boys <VS> the Can We All just get-over this Duelling-Gods-stuff?

That Dance is looking a lot like a Totentanz, to those of us who kept up with the analyses of war-games of that First think-tank (that Other Rand - a Corporation - how Very apropos) Gawd I miss irony. Miss also people who remember, intimately, what fission/fusion Is Like.


You. Decide. Mr. Muricanpeepul Personified
(We'll bury the bodies.)
If we can.
If we can find many parts.
And if we feel up to it.
At 500 R/hr on the ion chamber.
With all those cells leaking all fluids internally.

I recall reading an internal report about an 'incident' whereby a Pu-enriched solution was permitted to overflow where it Wasn't supposed-to: into another tank with Pu-material. A n-Second Criticality occurred. Calculations were that this poor sod got ~ 10,000 REMs. 500 total-body will do it. Slower. I omit the horrifying description of How.. it was, he died, and just say: agonizingly.