Friday, August 8, 2025

Some smoke in its eye

Folksinger and songwriter Malvina Reynolds wrote “What Have They Done to the Rain?” in 1962. She’d been active in anti-nuclear protests for a long time, and the song was her response to the dangers of above-ground testing (of a weapon designed to cause maximum destruction of life).

Given that we’re just two days past the 80th anniversary of the first use of an atomic bomb and that the Kleptocrat has in recent days hauled out his nuclear willie to wave wildly in an attempt to distract from the clamor over his connection to Jeffrey Epstein (he’s ordered the deployment of two submarines armed with nuclear missiles to “appropriate places” WRT Russia; his interim head of NASA is announcing that building a nuclear reactor on the moon is now a priority; on Tuesday TACOman was spotted wandering around the roof of the White House, gesticulating wildly and answered a question regarding what he was building there by yelling, “Nuclear missiles”), it seems appropriate to have “What Have They Done to the Rain?” today as a reminder that it is not a good thing to have a septuagenarian malevolent narcissist exhibiting clear signs of dementia in charge of the nuclear codes.

Here's Marianne Faithfull singing it.


 

©2025 Bas Bleu

 

Thursday, August 7, 2025

Your call is important to us

A friend and I were discussing IVRs the other day—you know, when you call a bank, a utility company, a doctor’s office and are barred entry by a computer robot demanding that you listen to and choose one of their self-service computer options (give us money; find out how much money you should give us; go to our kludgy website). And when you try to circumvent that by saying “agent” or “representative, it always comes back with “I need some information to get you to the right person.” And then when you do get to a humanoid, they always want you to repeat all the information you’ve gust given the robot. AI is just going to make it worse.

(I once tried to circumvent the wait time with Comcast (cable company) to downsize my subscription. There was one “line” for buying more, and another for downgrading, cancelling, etc. When I pressed the number for the latter, it said the wait time was more than 30 minutes, or the like. So I went back & pressed the number for “buy more”. Got right through to an agent, but she couldn’t help me. She was in the Philippines (from her accent) and her only script was for adding services. So I had to go back & wait. Interestingly, the woman who eventually came on the line was American (eventually I found out she was located in Massachusetts). They must have learned that complex transactions don’t go well when they offshore the reps. I found that true in the past, when I had technical issues: first-line support was South Asian; when I escalated, it came back to the US.)

Anyway—when I came across this cartoon by Edith Pritchitt, I felt seen.


 

©2025 Bas Bleu

 

Wednesday, August 6, 2025

Rains of ruin

Eighty years ago today a B-29 Superfortress took off from the island of Tinian in the Marianas and headed toward Japan with a single uranium-based bomb in its hold. The Enola Gay was escorted by two more planes, The Great Artiste (stuffed with instruments for measuring the blast) and an unnamed bomber (equipped for photography) that was later christened Necessary Evil.

Their primary target was Hiroshima, an industrial city with a major military presence. Nagasaki and Kokura were the alternate targets. All three were sizeable urban centers with either industry, communications or military infrastructure that had so far escaped the massive bombings that had destroyed large swathes of Tokyo and other cities.

These were the basic criteria determined by US leaders for deploying the world’s first atomic weapon, which was intended to have a psychological effect on Japan’s will to wage war, rather than cause extensive physical devastation. We’d already done that with air raids involving bombers in their hundreds obliterating Japanese cities. The first nuclear explosion was meant to focus the minds of Japan’s leadership on how far we’d moved the needle on the destruction-capability wheel and rethink their strategy of resisting to the last person.

On 6 August, while approaching southern Japan, Colonel Paul W. Tibbets, commanding Enola Gay, got the go-ahead for the primary target. A little after 0800 the bomb, named “Little Boy”, detonated about 1900 feet above the center of the city, causing destruction in a one-mile radius and starting fires that spread out further.

And, of course, there was the radiation, which was a game changer in the arsenal of war at that time. The next day, a team of Japanese nuclear physicists visited Hiroshima and verified that the damage had been caused by an atomic blast, which they reported to Tokyo. The Imperial cabinet conferred. They knew exactly what they were facing, but they concluded that the US could only have one or two more such weapons in their arsenal. So their best course of action would be to just take the hits and continue to fight with conventional means. 

The Japanese people could withstand a few nuclear bombs and go on fighting. They wouldn't win, but they'd make the Allied victory a Pyrrhic one, and that was something worthwhile.

It was kind of like corporations today that do risk-benefit analyses on things like product safety and decide that it’s more cost-effective to settle a few lawsuits than to clean up their manufacturing processes. Or to let a few thousand patients die rather than pay for expensive medical treatment. Only, of course, more so.

Harry S Truman—who had known nothing about the atomic weapons program when he became President in April that year—announced the dropping of the bomb and promised the Japanese “a rain of ruin from the air” if they did not surrender unconditionally. They did not, so he authorized the deployment of a second bomb, “Fat Man”, which was dropped on Nagasaki (again, a secondary target for the day, but the primary was too clouded over to be feasible) on 9 August. A few days later, the Emperor announced to the nation his government’s intention to surrender, citing the “new and terrible weapon” that had been used against them.

Finally, a good call, because as it happened, the Americans had several more devices in the pipeline. They reckoned the next one would be ready for use on 19 August, with more to follow, and the only debate was about whether to drop each one as it became available or gather a few and take out multiple targets simultaneously to make the point.

There are all kinds of arguments for and against the morality of using nuclear weapons on Japan. I believe Truman made the right call, difficult as it was; I believe that “Little Boy” and “Fat Man” served the purpose in an immediate way of convincing the Japanese that meeting the Allies’ terms (unconditional surrender) was the only alternative to unimaginable annihilation of their nation, their people and their lands.

Yes—we were well on the way to accomplishing those goals with conventional weapons. But the atomic bombs made it clear that we could now obliterate them without sustaining the kinds of losses that massive air raids and amphibious invasions would cost us. That old risk-benefit analysis was clearly seen to be in our favor.

I admit to being uncomfortable with that old rationale that’s hauled out every fucking time someone wants a government to buy and deploy an expensive, untried device, substance or application that has the potential to cause mass destruction. You know—“It’s actually more humane to use [horses; Gatling guns; poison gas; unrestricted submarine warfare; air raids on civilian targets; atomic bombs; SDI, drones], because it will force the enemy to surrender faster and thus it’ll save lives. Right? Sign here. And here.”

Cavalry, poison gas, machine guns didn’t shorten any wars. (In fact, machine guns dragged out the fighting on the Western Front in World War I year after year because no one seemed to be able to win with them and everyone refused to lose to them.) Submarine warfare came close to strangling Britain in World War II, but in the end failed. Star Wars?—meh. And don’t get me started on “strategic” bombing; I can’t even believe we’re still having that conversation 80 years later.

But I do believe that “Little Boy” and “Fat Man” hastened the end of one war. Probably not an option these days, unless you’re down with mutually assured destruction being the full stop to that expedient. And some people are, so that makes it a little tricky for the rest of us.

In the meantime, I take heart in the story that there’s a 390-year-old white pine bonsai tree in the Washington, D.C., Arboretum that survived the atomic bomb in Hiroshima. It was two miles away from ground zero, in the grounds of bonsai master Masaru Yamaki’s home, and protected from the blast by a fence on 6 August 1945. Yamaki donated it to the Arboretum in 1976. It’s survived natural and manmade disasters through daily attention by its keepers over the centuries. (I hope it survives the current administration.)

It would be nice if we could apply that kind of care to one another, both individually and nationally.  

 

©2025 Bas Bleu

 

Tuesday, August 5, 2025

Fly-tipping in the 'hood

In my post yesterday about the development behind me, I mentioned that the developers (Wheelock, if you’re asking) underwhelmed me WRT their commitment to keeping the property sightly. That was interesting.

Back in December, I noticed some bits of trash along the W&OD Trail right next to the uppermost pond on their land. When I went over to investigate, here’s what I saw:


Clearly this wasn’t just individuals idly tossing their drink cups and fast food containers down the slope; it wasn’t even the aftermath of a party. It looked to me like someone had driven a pickup truck down the trail from Old Reston Avenue (about 100 yards) and just heaved the contents of the truck bed down towards the pond.

Well—Wheelock owns the property; they’re responsible for keeping it trash-free. Fairfax County has laws about that. So, I emailed the two guys in charge, with photos. The next day I got this:

Well—only they hadn’t, because the next day all the rubbish was still there. I pointed that out to the guys, but no response.

So I reported it to Fairfax County; there’s a website for that. A few days later (this happened 20 to 27 December), the detritus was gone and there were a bunch of trash bags neatly clustered beside the trail. The next day, a guy in a Fairfax County pickup came by, loaded up the bags and order was restored to the world.


The moral of this story, children, is: you can’t count on capitalism to do jack shit if there’s not immediate money in it for those involved. And government is not a business, it’s a service.

 

©2025 Bas Bleu

 

Monday, August 4, 2025

Gratitude Monday: water life returns

I had an unexpected blessing yesterday.

The developers of the formerly parklike campus behind me announced last year that they were going to replace the Asiatic lotus plants in one of the three ponds on the property with American lotus—on the alleged advice of someone at Reston Association that the American variety are “hardier and easier to maintain”. So they were clearly indifferent to maintaining them during the construction process. (They couldn't even be bothered to pick up trash that someone clearly fly-tipped from the W&OD Trail; a story for another day.)

N.B.: Those Asiatic lotus have been in that pond for longer than I’ve lived here, and they’ve weathered violent storms, blizzards, sub-freezing temperatures and poor air quality during summers with triple-digit heat indexes.

Also—this property does not come under the remit of any RA Obergruppenführer, so I have no idea what business they had sticking their nebs into this. Throughout the entire rezoning and permitting process, all they cared about was that the residents of the 82 three- and four-story townhouses crammed into five acres of buildable land should pay RA dues; they didn’t give a flying fig about the landscaping or loss thereof.

Throughout late Fall and into Winter, I watched as they drained the water from the two upper ponds and waved sadly goodbye to my beloved sacred lotus as the level sank.

They completely emptied them both and just left them.

They blocked off access, so you could only get near the ponds on Sundays and snaking around their fencing. The lowest pond was left with some water (they’re part of the headwaters of Difficult Run, which is the only reason why the developers can’t fill them in and build on them), and one Sunday I met my old friend there.

Even so, I’ve been mourning for the lotus—they fill me with such joy and their loss leaves a huge gap in my soul.

(I’ve also been concerned because the past few weeks when I walk past the ponds on the W&OD Trail, I could see the developers had turned off the fountains in all three ponds. We’re having a ghastly mosquito season here, and them just letting the water sit there isn’t helping.)

So, yesterday, when I walked over to the building site to consider peeing on the first eight structures (“model homes” for the “invitation-only” first viewings), I was startled to see that the lotus are back!

I trotted over to drink them in and shoot some pix. 




Then I went home to get my real camera, returned and shot some more. Because they may have to last me a while.



I am so deeply grateful that the “less hardy” plants bided their time during this winter of discontent, and have barreled back to life. You cannot imagine.

 

©2025 Bas Bleu