Thoughts during the apocalypse, Part Five.

Since most of us have little else to do but sit in front of our televisions, I'm sure you're getting the feeling that the politicians may be lying to you about when this pandemic and its almost complete idling of the American economy is going to end.

After all, why wouldn't they? The only thing even remotely redeemable about Donald J. Trump in his bid for re-election has been the state of the economy. A revival that begun under President Obama took off to unheard-of heights over the past three years, but now, all the gains of those years are gone -- and for those reliant upon those gains for their retirement, things are getting desperate.

So, to be honest, if you were President Trump, wouldn't you want to say just about anything you could think of to reassure potential voters that all will be well again? Even if it was all lies?

Well, it wouldn't be the first time the government has lied to the American public in a time of crisis.

"Fallout Protection," a 1961 pamphlet

issued by the U.S. Department of Defense.

The pamphlet pictured here is something I found recently in an old chest of drawers. It's called, "Fallout Protection: What to Know and Do about Nuclear Attack." It was published by the Department of Defense's Office of Civil Defense in 1961, 59 years ago during the administration of John F. Kennedy, as a means of reassuring the nation that it could survive a full-scale nuclear attack by the Soviet Union with just a few simple preparedness tips.

In retrospect, most of the tips would be laughable if not for the fact that a full-scale exchange of the nuclear arsenals of the United States and the Soviet Union -- which was close to happening in October 1962 -- would have laid waste to the entire infrastructure of both nations and the radioactivity unleashed by those weapons most likely would have eradicated almost all life on earth.

The effects of nuclear detonation are discussed in some detail early in the pamphlet, but the fiction begins in earnest on Page 20, the beginning of a chapter called, "Individual Action: Family Shelters." Within that section, suggestions for home sheltering are outlined, ranging from cinder-block structures within one's basement or underground bunkers in the backyard, or something as simple as a lean-to covered with dirt on the outside of the house or boxes piled up around a table in the basement, under which you can crawl to survive the attack.

Saving yourself in your basement.

The pamphlet also suggests what tools and products you'd need to ride out a maximum of two weeks in your shelter, how to deal with sanitation issues (assuming there was no run on toilet paper before the bombs fell) and some first-aid tips to deal with the relatively minor injuries that might occur when running for your life during a nuclear attack.

But the truly unintentional humor comes on Page 38, the start of a chapter called "First Steps Toward Recovery." It's topped with an illustration that shows a street scene in Anytown, U.S.A., the setting totally intact and damage-free, with men washing down the street with fire hoses and brooms to get rid of the last pesky vestiges of that dastardly fallout, while Old Glory flies proudly from a flagpole in front of a pristine community center. Forget the fact that the whole scene would likely be nothing but radioactive rubble and smoldering corpses strewn about.

Scary stuff.

Fear not. A few firehoses will make everything fresh and new.

I remember reading this pamphlet when I was a child and being scared silly by it, but that was part of the deal about growing up during the 1960s. It still amazes me that cooler heads prevailed during the Cuban Missile Crisis, and it's probably a good thing that the government glossed over what the real outcome of a nuclear war would have been. To be honest, episodes of "The Twilight Zone" did a much better (and more terrifying) job of representing the potential horror than any government pamphlet.

So I guess it's fair to say that Donald Trump didn't invent the art of lying to the public. He's taken it to new levels, it seems, but it's as old as George Washington and his cherry tree -- and even the sainted JFK felt the need to gloss over the facts in a time of growing crisis.

That's it for my apocalyptic thoughts for today, folks. My body temperature is 97.5, I'm not coughing, everything seems fine but it's snowing and I'm depressed. I'll try to put a happier spin on everything tomorrow. Stay safe and wash your hands.