Warm.
This has always been my plan since way back during the Cold War. I remember being taught in school to dive under the desk, duck and cover. I don’t want to survive the initial blast. The fallout will be so much worse. You can hide in the basement, I’m watching the fireworks.
The desk is an illusion of safety.
If you’re as close to the blast as the comic depicts, any building your in will be leveled to the foundation a few seconds later. It’s not an earthquake where the walls might crack or the ceiling might come down. A nuclear pressure wave is a wall of superheated air that will knock down anything in its way until the energy is depleted.
And fuck the basement. Last thing I want is for a nuke to go off and be trapped under the rubble of mine and my neighbors former homes while the room I’m in slowly floods with water and radioactive fallout
This would likely be my reaction. I would not want to try and survive in the aftermath of a nuclear war. It would be SO MUCH WORSE than movies would have you believe.
Parts of it, yeah. Ugh. In America, we got the much-watered-down (even optimistic, by comparison) The Day After.
I also read a fallout shelter manual from the 50s. The limited steps they could recommend just served to underline how fucked you were. The sentence “don’t wait for help” spoke volumes.
Turns into a ghoul. Becomes a PI.
Weird dude comes into office looking for missing son. Doesn’t like wisecracks. Fires fat boy in office.
I thought they were enjoying the sun until I looked closer
Touch grass?
No. Become grass.
