Many humans have reacted with alarm and terror at the notion that President Trump has named John Bolton as his national security adviser. They say that Bolton is dangerous. That he will suggest engaging the full military might of the United States in a questionable and potentially endless war as a remedy in situations where this does not even remotely make sense (cure for the hiccups, alternative to brunch, fun activity for a rainy Tuesday).
To them I say: Hissssssssss!
I am not frightened. Nothing about John Bolton could possibly frighten me. Not his past positions. Not his current positions. Not even his mustache, although sometimes I think that it is moving on its own when I glimpse it out of the corner of my large compound eye.
There is nothing to be alarmed at in the notion of a national security adviser who advocated preemptive war with North Korea. Why not have a preemptive war with North Korea? What harm would it do?
The prospect of a security adviser plucked suddenly from a position of making alarming suggestions on the TV to a position of making alarming suggestions into the president’s ear is soothing. The fact that Congress might not confirm him if they had any say in it is nothing — when has Congress ever been right? Conventional wisdom is often wrong. Sometimes I will hear that there are good snacks available in an area and when I arrive the whole place is already swarming and all the good bites are gone.
Bolton has been described as being “too competent” by Joe Biden, on the grounds that his ideas are bad and he is able to implement them. I think he is just competent enough. It is good that he understands the system to a point that he can get his agenda through. And that agenda is my agenda!
Besides, Joe Biden killed my brother in a motel.
I just don’t see any way that this can go wrong. There may be a risk of a fiery, devastating conflict, but what is there to be startled by in that? We are safe here. I am coated with a protective layer of wax.
Knowing that Bolton is at the helm fills me with a warm sense of general well-being. He is going to provide the president a wide array of options: war (with Iran), war (with North Korea), war (spread diffusely throughout the land). The thought that he will be there to help guide Donald Trump and shape his impulses is a relaxing one. It makes my mouth parts twist into something like a smile. He just clicks in this Cabinet, as I do, sometimes, in the cabinet beneath which I reside.
It is time, I think, that we had more hawks. What is the worst that can happen? Nothing, really. Certainly nothing that will affect me. I hear you saying, “If the worst happens, you will miss your supply of skin flakes, bread and paper!” and I certainly will, but I can survive on bits of leather, dead insects and that tasty starch in book bindings. Mm, starch. Mm, cellulose just in general.
When I look at the team the president has assembled around him, I rest calmly on my sturdy legs, at least until someone turns on a light and causes me to scuttle back into the wainscoting.
Establishment types would tell you that they are scared. That Vladimir Putin should be scared. That human beings alive on the Earth should be scared. That anyone who lacks a strong exoskeleton should be scared. Well, I am not scared.
But then again, I am a cockroach.
