News You Can't Use: Chinese Newspaper Near North Korea Offers Advice on Surviving Nuclear Attack

It's about time we update "Duck and Cover" for the exciting new generation that, according to what I've gleaned from Pepsi commercials, is the best ever. Naturally, we'll just have the Chinese do it and import the halfhearted results, just like those Sorny moron boxes and fun lead action dolls. The end product might not be as cheerful as the paranoid turtle, but it will offer the same worthless advice that is sure to put everyone at ease. When you see the Rocket Man flash, you better hide your ass, etc.

An official Chinese newspaper near North Korea has published a page of articles on coping with nuclear attacks, in a sign of growing anxiety over Kim Jong Un’s weapons program.

A massive explosion that leaves nothing but radioactive ash isn't normally the kind of thing you'd "cope" with, as if it's just a bad hair day or whatever. On the other hand, there's no better source of lifestyle advice than official Chinese newspapers.

The Jilin Daily -- the government newspaper of Jilin province on North Korea’s northeastern border -- published articles on page 5 explaining how nuclear weapons work and the damage they cause.

I get most of my news from the Jilin. Here's a insightful article describing how you'd be vaporized by the blast, leaving only a shadow on the ruins to mark your passing. This is Real News.

The paper used cartoons to offer advice on what residents can do about radiation exposure and provided instructions on how to respond during an attack.

Instructions like "put your head between your knees and start kissing your ass goodbye."

Another warned that air raids could mean nuclear, chemical and biological attacks, and used the 1945 atomic bombing of Hiroshima as an example.

What. I'm pretty sure there were no chemical or biological agents in that attack, but through the miracle of incorrect formatting that seems to be the message.

The cartoon images illustrated how residents should clean their bodies, boots and coats after being exposed to radiation. They suggested taking iodine tablets, if there is radiation nearby.

Real bummer about that Atomic Holocaust. If you need me, I'll be scrubbing my cool leather jacket and taking some iodine while my skin peels off.

Goofy Curious George and his little firecracker. Sad!

North Korea, which last week launched a new type of intercontinental ballistic missile, said ahead of the drills that it would consider the “highest-level hard-line countermeasure in history,” according to the state-run Korean Central News Agency.

They also explained how Beloved Leader never cried as a baby and doesn't need to use the bathroom as an adult.

Full Article.

Aaron Zehner is the author of "The Foolchild Invention" available in paperback and e-book format. Read free excerpts here and here.

News You Can't Use: Nuclear Commander Lost Job After Being Caught Playing Fake Poker Chips

What is day-to-day ordinary life like for those handful of heroes responsible for destroying the Earth should our ideological enemies get a little too uppity? I would have expected endless cheering crowds, happy marriages full of greeting card moments and the satisfaction of knowing it might be your index finger that plunges humanity back into the Stone Age or destroys it outright. It appears this assumption was overly optimistic. In truth, the M.A.D. doctrine guardians are gambling like crazy and somehow making fake poker chips in between glancing at the World News, glancing at The Button and finally saying "No. Not just yet."

By day, Vice-Admiral Timothy Giardina was one of the US Navy’s most senior figures – as deputy head of US Strategic Command, he was number two in command of America’s nuclear arsenal.

He had it all. A sweet job becoming death, destroyer of worlds, a uniform covered in shiny tin, you name it.

But by night, at the Horseshoe casino in Council Bluffs, Iowa, he was known as Navy Tim, a heavy gambler who was accused of making his own $500 poker chips and eventually banned.

I would imagine his eventual banning was held back by constant threats to "Nuke this casino" should they put an end to his crapulence.

His removal from his role in the uppermost tier of America’s defence establishment was carried out last year, but the reasons behind his downfall are only now becoming clear.

Instead of the expected "decades long pattern of massive incompetence" it turns out he was making fake gambling markers in his basement and trying to pass them off at some flyover country low-roller spot.

However, one man’s ruin may be a symptom of a wider malaise at the heart of America’s nuclear deterrent.

Nuclear deterrent, man. It used to be cool. Now it's all commercial and popular, old dudes with wooden poker chips, missiles incapable of creating mass extinction effects, just lame.

An ageing stock of missiles, corroded launch silos and an uncertain role in a post-Cold War world have sent morale plunging among the men and women who call themselves Missileers.

I became a "Missileer" so I could murder the world, not to spent endless days scrubbing corrosion off silos and changing the expiration dates on the Reagan Arsenal.

The result, according to several studies, has been a string of leadership, training and disciplinary problems, which prompted a $10 billion root-and-branch overhaul announced a little over a week ago.

Serious questions have been raised as to whether this new breed of maniacs will be able to blow it up.

No one at the Horseshoe Casino would have known any of that or that the man at the tables was a three-star admiral.

You would think the Horseshoe Casino in Moo Mud, Iowa would have a robust espionage network, but it appears this is not the case.

After graduating from the US Naval Academy in 1979, Mr Giardina worked his way up the ranks as a career submarine officer. Among his commands were fast attack subs and vessels carrying ballistic nuclear weapons.

Back then he was limited to making fake match sticks for what little gaming action was available on a fast attack sub.

Yet his career began to unravel last year, when the Horseshoe discovered three homemade $500 chips.

It's almost like a Greek Tragedy, except with less noble heroes being ravaged of fate and more bloated American gasbag trying to trick a casino and failing.

Interviewed two days later, Mr Giardina claimed to be an innocent victim.

It's scary to think that this would probably be his same reaction after an "accidental" missile launch.

He said he had bought $2,000 in chips for a little under their face value from a person in a casino lavatory.

"I was just doing some innocent bathroom cruising and I ran into this great deal." Are you sure this is the lie you want to go with? It's not too late to claim they "fell into your pocket."

The state investigator’s report said a review of surveillance footage revealed other “odd behaviours” by Giardina at the Horseshoe.

It's almost as if being in charge of cremating our planet could cause mental issues.

"Giardina was observed taking cigarette butts out of public ashtrays and smoking them,” it said.

The glamorous life of the international gambler and rocket cowboy.

 "I thought I was pulling a slot machine lever."

An Army lab revealed that a $500 chip had been scanned and printed on to stickers, which were then applied to a genuine $1 chip. The cheap chips were painted in the colour scheme of the more expensive counters.

Yes, your tax dollars were used to analyze poker chips used by a scumbag who until recently had the power to kill you and everyone you care about.

However, the amateur job covered up secret security features only visible under UV light, and Mr Giardina’s DNA was found on the underside of a sticker.

Typical government work, half-finished. 

He was given a written reprimand and ordered to forfeit $4,000 in pay. He has declined to comment on the case.

Please write "I will not try to cheat the casino" a hundred times on the chalkboard of our secret underground bunker. 

This month, Chuck Hagel, the US defence secretary, admitted the country's nuclear arsenal had fallen into disrepair and needed billions of dollars of upgrades.

"If we launched today there would be several thousand survivors, many of them non-mutated. This is unacceptable."

Full Story.

Aaron Zehner is the author of "The Foolchild Invention" available in paperback and e-book format. Read free excerpts here and here.

Freeway Warrior: Highway Holocaust

I always aim to be as topical as possible, chasing those latest trends with that special sort of desperation found in someone that's always one step behind. That's why today I'll be playing through a gamebook published in 1988 that was intended for that era's 12-year-olds with undiagnosed social anxiety issues. I've always had a soft spot for these books, so let's enjoy pointless nostalgia and the heavy irony of a grown-ass man making wisecracks and pretending to be cool while playing through a book aimed at children that came out during the Reagan administration. Through the miracle of the internet you can try it too and bathe in second-hand ironic coolness.

The "Freeway Warrior" series is not, as you might expect, a harrowing journey into the daily commute of some nine-to-five-nothing. Instead, it's Mad Max Americanized via England, with all the names and numbers covered over with black tape or turned inside out like the time I wore a "Metal Up Your Ass" shirt to junior high. The Brit who wrote this once won a Dungeons and Dragons contest, so you know you're in good hands. He also wrote quite a few books set in more conventional fantasy settings that I'll probably do at some point.

We get off to a hot start with some amazing background material delivered via a timeline. Remember back in 2008 when both the President of the U.S.A. and Secretary of the Supreme Soviet (both Obama, haw haw) were assassinated at an emergency summit? Or for that matter the 2009 imprisonment of HAVOK agents in "deep pens?" It's fun to imagine the sort of protests we would have had over putting people into deep pens and so on. Or for that matter the 2008 Truth Movement we'd probably get.

No More Deep Pens! HAVOK is a government false flag!

The upshot of this is that nuclear holocaust destroys the world, setting up the best sort of post-apocalypse scenario. Face facts, after the bomb is far cooler than lame zombie holocausts and don't even get me started on the "so far past lame if you were standing on lame you'd need a telescope to see it" loss of electricity apocalypse where people make complicated devices like crossbows but have forgotten how to make, say, batteries. 

Anyway, gale force winds, dust storms, and finally radiation settles to "tolerable levels" and survivors try to pick up the pieces. My character is one of those survivors, a man named Cal Phoenix (Get it? Clever.) On a Texas vacation your oilman Uncle was all "want to visit a nuclear-bomb resistant underground complex?" and through that lucky coincidence Cal survived the nuclear war to become humanity's last, best hope. With skills like "refining gasoline" and "shooting" he's a pretty major force, to say the least. His first task is to try to link up with another colony of survivors to exchange supplies and prepare to flee to California (which somehow wasn't wrecked by nukes???). Sounds easy enough.

Don't mess with post-apocalyptic Texas.

Time to roll up some stats. My Close Combat Skills is 18 with an Endurance of 24, pretty good numbers. Out of the "Survival Skills" I put points in Stealth, Driving and Perception starting with a 5,4,4 in these and 3s in Shooting and Field Craft. For items I take a Geiger Counter (there's "tolerable" levels of radiation out there), a compass, binoculars and three meals (you have to eat). Carrying all this stuff like a post-apocalyptic bag lady reduces Stealth by one to four. I start with four med-kits, which can be used to heal myself or others. You get a knife for "close combat" and a choice of one "missile weapon" or as we might call them on this continent, guns. I take a rifle. You only get four bullets, so the shots are going to have to count.

The adventure starts with some guy named "Long Jake" scouting ahead of your Road Warrior-style convoy. He hits the jackpot be finding rifles, ammunition and a teenage girl (!) but his truck breaks down. "Trust Jake to go an' maroon hi'self with a gal!" grumbles Uncle Jonas, wryly. It's my job to find him and presumably, prevent any inter-generational sex from occurring.

 

When you find the missing individuals the author is quick to assure us that she looks eighteen. Honest, officer. No time to dwell on it, because we're being shot at by unseen villains. Running back to my "roadster" to make a cowardly retreat leads to a fight with a "renegade" which I guess are the "orcs" of this setting. He dies in fairly short order.

Unable to drive off, I have to run for cover, getting shot in the process. I'm down to 16 Endurance. There's just enough time to learn that we're dealing with evil "yankees" before I shoot some generic mook trying to sneak up from the back. In the process Long Jake dies, but the jailbait is safe, so it's a net win. She even talks: ‘This dude you've wasted has some real mean kin. They'll soon get to wonderin' what's hap'ning in here and'll come to check us out." The U.S.A. as imagined by a European, ladies and gentlemen.What hap'ens next is we run to the car and drive off.

We learn the girl has a name (Kate) and is fleeing from a gang from Detroit called the Lions (!) led by Mad-Dog Michigan (!!!) who turns out to be a Deep Pen escapee. Man, all that seemingly unimportant back story is really coming together into a highly satisfying story of futuristic action-adventure. Anyway, the entire gang of ex-HAVOK agents and general hard cases are going to be looking for her. Complications!

On two we try to get some under-aged action. Break!

Remember that unnamed, generic and presumably completely unimportant minion I wasted with my rifle? Well, I'm informed by Kate that he's Mad Dog Michigan's Brother. Whoops.

Time to burn the ranch and move the colony. I drive ahead into Denton and certain danger. Or at least I sense said danger with my Phoenix Senses or whatever. Better use those binoculars...motorcycle smoke! Fearing a possible encounter with the Grandsons of Anarchy (it's the FUTURE) I advise the convoy to avoid Denton. 

Take a Drink. Yeah, the book makes you do that. Realism with a capital R, friends.

A trip over a dry lake is uneventful and we find the highway afterwards. But first: It leads to the ruins of a once prestigious building—the North Texas State University. Yes! Time to search the Texas Harvard for useful items!

It just screams "prestige."

I find some NaCl, but a failed perception roll leads me to believe that ordinary salt might be "dangerous chemicals." Civilization's last hope, right here. Back to more exciting driving and map reading. Unfortunately the bridge I picked has a "manned barricade." The solution is a half-baked plan to use a school bus as a battering ram. During this process a car is sent flying straight at me.

Great plan, really.

Incredibly some lucky rolling gets me out with nothing but "facial wounds." I apply some med-kits to the facial region. I pass on a chance to explore an Air Force Base (it's no North Texas U). Eat a meal. More driving. All the action of an endless road trip, in book format!

I'm diverted to investigate a radio signal. No, it isn't Three Dog. Instead it's the skeletal remains of "Dr. Drool."

Doctorate in Heavy Metal from North Texas, Beloved Radio Personality, R.I.P.

 The convoy is attacked at night by "bikers" and only a good roll saves me from being sucked underneath one of their murdercycles. A quick fight leaves me with 13 Endurance. I knife three bikers in rapid succession, which is both bad-ass and highly improbable. More gunfire is avoided and I use the old "scream to make him think you're dead" trick. Yeah, that old one.

I take a moment to contemplate the destruction of the small town of Thurber, but stop short of a "you blew it up, you maniacs" type emotional collapse. Then I'm distracted by a flickering light and must go check it out. This guy is all over the place. 

I don't have any light, so I fall into a gully. The savior of humanity. Nearly killed by my own idiocy and lack of planning I use all my med-kits but one. I'm able to climb out of the gully without further incident, preventing an ignominious end. "Here lies Cal Phoenix, Hero of Humanity. Slew countless evil bikers and crazed renegades. Killed by a gully because he thought walking around in total darkness was a good idea."

More dangerous than gun-wielding killers.

I follow the light to a cave and am rewarded for my curiosity by meeting a bizarre man in "evil-smelling rags." He offers a "rat steak" that is politely refused by our hero. Somehow he knows about our troubles and will get the needed part if I agree to a proposition. Oh-Kay. The words "no homo" come to mind.

Seems legit.

He wants to join the convoy. Deal. Surprisingly having an evil-smelling, half-insane shaman join doesn't win me any popularity. He points us toward a likely location, but it's currently in the hands of "renegades" who were recently whomped by some character named Mekong Mike. They call themselves "The Skulls" because of their shaved heads. They probably wear Affliction shirts and hold advanced degrees in Tap Out, too. Sigh. Is is ever easy? Suffice it to say, I'm in charge of this rather poorly conceived raid.

I sneak up through an ally and avoid a poorly drawn patrol of Skulls. Honestly, look at this shit:

The regular artist was sick that day.

I find a bottle of bourbon...could be useful...maybe? We're about to get the part from an old school bus when I get attacked by some random goof. I have to use my last Med-kit afterwards, giving me 13 Endurance. We get out with the part! Then we encounter a hole in the road. After being nearly killed by a similar danger I take every precaution. I'm attacked by rabid dogs! Rifle fire scares them off, but I'm down to one bullet. I talk to two doomed Rad-Vics (instead of getting super powers they've been poisoned by radiation) and give them a med-kit I don't actually have.

Pursued by bikers I order the convoy south, then take damage from salt loss. Good thing I knew to avoid those "dangerous chemicals" back at the Lone Star State's answer to Yale. I walk into a town and suffer the indignity of being lassoed. The Guardian of Texas does it again. I'm disarmed by individuals who resemble "red indians" I once saw in something called a "book." 

Every possible Native American stereotype is deployed and then they declare their intention to sacrifice me to "The Spirit of Thunder." Good grief. Lacking a saw or signal flare it looks like I'm boned, but I somehow get free during the sacrifice attempt. The dice have really been kind to me.

Meet interesting people from ancient cultures; kill them.

And my luck promptly runs out and he kills me in the ensuing fight. Too bad, I was starting to think I had a chance of reaching the end. This book has been described as extremely difficult, but I didn't really get that impression. I guess I did get some good rolls to avoid random deaths. With better item choices I could have avoided the situations that kicked my ass. 

...and that's how the last hope of the human race got killed by an insane, heavily stereotyped "Thunder Spirit" worshiper. Still more dignified than being killed by a gully.


Aaron Zehner's first novel The Foolchild Invention is available in e-book format at Amazon.com and Barnes & Noble.