If I told you five years ago that I had a Civil Defense radiometer and radiation mask, you would’ve laughed. If I expounded further and said I’d had it since 1979 when my dad, who I guess was in the Civil Defense…he was in everything else…died, you’d have asked me, why the hell have you been lugging it around for thirty one years? Well, jerks, now ya know.
Luckily, the thing, though very old, is brand new. Luckily, because we never had a nuclear holocaust during the time I owned it. I live in Syracuse, New York, so I wasn’t too concerned about deadly isotopes from Japan falling on the Wescott Nation. I guess I’m wrong about that, though. I had planned to put the sucker on Craig’s List in Santa Barbara, LA, Hollywood and San Francisco…you know, rich areas of California. I figured I could get three to five hundred for it out there (plus shipping and handling, batteries not included). But my neighbor Theresa, a Hippy’s Hippy, told me no to sell it. She wants it to stay on our street. It’s a conundrum.
So the bigger question is why my Hippy neighbor Theresa is worried enough to want someone with a radiometer on the block. Granted, I’ve been the Liberal with the semi-auto and pistol permit, (and the axe and dagger and sword) and German Sheppard, wandering around like an old and arthritic version of Billy Jack or something. I’m friends with the cops and when Eric, the Army Major who used to live on the block got a call from his wife who heard someone banging around in the backyard one night, it was me who he called to get over there till he could get home, not the cops. You see, Eric knew what I’d do if I had to, knew me to be the neighborhood ‘rapid response’. I was very proud of that, an Army Major and all. But radiation poisoning? Jeez.
Don’t get me wrong…I could use three to five hundred bucks (plus shipping and handling, batteries not included). I could buy me a used Glock for that amount which would be a whole lot more useful if there was a panic from deadly isotopes from Japan falling on the Wescott Nation. Trust me on this. But having it (the radiometer, not the Glock- Theresa’s pretty anti-gun. But me? I adhere to the old rule: It’s better to be judged by twelve than carried by six. On the other hand, I sometimes get the feeling that Theresa and the rest of my neighbors secretly like having a Liberal gun owner with a German Sheppard around. Let’s face it, it has it’s uses.) here would make Theresa feel safer maybe, maybe feel like she had some control, or at least assurance. Or insurance, I don’t know. Theresa doesn’t trust media too much. I can see her point; after all, I lie on the web all the time, just for the fun of it.
So that’s my dilemma. Go for the quick cash or be safe in the knowledge that if Indian Point goes off, we’ll know. Decisions, decisions.