How I learned to stop worrying and love the bomb

At the time of the attack on 9/11 I lived 100 miles from the world trade center. By most measures a safe distance even if a nuclear device had been detonated, although surviving the initial shock of an atomic weapon means the possibility of experiencing nuclear fallout. The sickness and death resulting from radiation poisoning causes a slow and excruciatingly painful death, so I developed a plan of action and did what any normal, intelligent person would do. I moved to ground zero in New York. Yes I know that there are hundreds if not thousands of missiles programmed with the coordinates to my home address on them, but I personally think it is better to be incinerated instantaneously. I already have an appointment with death, although I tried to reschedule it for a later date. Unfortunately those damn automated systems never seem to return my call. Besides from my balcony I will have a ring side seat for the apocalypse, the greatest show on earth. That's how I learned to stop worrying and love the bomb.