Ah, the Doomsday Clock, that ancient relic of Cold War America, still ticking despite its obsolescence. For days, every media outlet has dropped Trump like a hot potato (let’s make it a sweet potato, because everyone has already made the carrot connection), and all eyes are on the Doomsday Clock. As apocalyptically minded as I am, I’m thrilled to see that the clock is getting as much attention as it is, mostly because it’s a concept rife with comedy.
“The Bulletin of Atomic Scientists” is the group behind the Doomsday Clock. Even the name betrays its age. Breathe that in. That’s the smell of 1950s futurism, aging like a fine cheddar, smelly but delightful.
Anyway, all the press coverage for the clock felt a lot like fanfare, so I thought, what other arbitrary time-related media storm do we embrace on a yearly basis? New Year’s Eve. How fitting that in the span of one month we have found it in ourselves to celebrate new beginnings, and potential ends. I couldn’t be prouder.