The rubber meets the road, and real names are drawn from a hat somewhere along the line. After we shoo away that pesky threat of hypersonic implosion triggered plutonium cores raining down upon our heads, the sun rises on a new day, and we have to put on coffee and make breakfast.

And some people ride in limousines from hotels for brunch, and some people ride the bus to a fast food job at the ass crack of dawn.

And you can bet that whomsoever holds the keys to these cryptosystems that serve as nuclear-proof umbrellas keeping our heads dry from the oh-so-inevitable megatons of explosive fire, they'll never drive a garbage truck, they're kids won't have to worry about flunking out of college, and none of them will ever get cold in the winter, unless they want to on their holiday ski trip.

And it's no accident, the way such things work.

So, maybe this whole nuclear war thing? Maybe it's always been a big shakedown.

Maybe, sometimes you buy a gun with the full knowledge that keeping it clean, safe and ready for reliable use is going to book your Sundays solid from now on, and whoops, the cost of gun ownership, it just so happens, is never attending Sunday mass again.