As I write this piece, the fate of the earth seems literally to rest in the hands of two men, aged seventy-two and seventy-three. From all we can tell by their public pronouncements, they both have views of the world that belong in the Stone Age, or in pre-adolescence. Both apparently believe that their opposite numbers represent all that is evil on the face of the earth. Both seem to think that the only way to safety is to amass as many different kinds of weapons as possible. Both provoke each other pettishly and unnecessarily. Neither wants to get together to talk the situation over; they both seem to think that such a conversation would be positively harmful, as if open communication were dangerous. In their heavily-fortified and sumptuous seats of government, they sit around plotting against each other, surrounded by others who share their views. I can accept that I am ultimately helpless to protect my child against the exigencies of human existence, but the idea that these two befuddled and ignorant old men might be responsible for his death infuriates me. I cannot accept it. I do not accept it. It is, however, a fact.