Hibakusha is the entitled name of the survivors of Hiroshima; i’m told it means “explosion afflicted people”. If i knew Japones, i would swap in the proper syllabandage to create a word for the US citizens who bathe in the afterglow of nuclear genocides of August 6th – 9th, 1945.
“Explosion uplifted people”. That’s us. Own it.
What Time Is It, People?
I love the synaptic nausea that results from meditation on US nuclear weapons testing. The reader(s) amongst you who were with me in previous years will (of course) remember that thermonuclear reaction is the Soul Crusher, the Universal Extinguisher; it is the human vehicle for delivery of instant Nirvana to all beings in the hypocenter of a blast. Thus it is a Bohdisatva Without Being; a pure zen reality without consciousness to sully its diamond bright honesty in form and function, a Way. To meditate upon it is to perhaps find the Void within; and to meditate upon its permutations as experiments is to know the mind of modern humanity.
Were scientists worried that the technique of inducing a thermonuclear reaction would stop working? Were they trying to make a cleaner bomb, and just kept fucking up until they came up with the Neutron and Cobalt death-ray devices?
Or are we just that stupid, thanatophilic and selfish?
The Department of Energy Nevada Test Site Memorial Archive
A boom joint with vintage sensibilities
Of course, we carpet bomb with other lethal biohazards, as does every other human culture.