Look guys, you cannot have atomic bombs
Forget the WMDs you crave
Trust us, we’ll manage things—you just behave;
We’ll keep the peace—you work your scruffy farms,
Ply your trades, worship your gods, fear no harm.
“One moment, please—we’re sovereign too, not slaves.
We need these bombs; uncertain, hostile waves
Whelm us; only security spawns calm.”
Well then, consider this: eight hundred pound
Gorillas get to choose; we have the means—
We’ll rain down hell! “You thugs can’t blight our tang
Of pride. We’re not afraid, we’ll not be bound!
We’ll make our own hot bombs!” Soon soundless screams
Cry END! Not with a whimper, but a bang.
10/27/05
T. S. Eliot (1888-1965), in “The Hollow Men,” impaled a spiritless generation that could not even sin with passion. Their world ends “not with a bang, but a whimper.” Our world, alas, so full of stubborn pride and religious certitude, is likely to have a more calamitous end.