I’m watching a 2019 television show called Years and Years. Terrific cast, led by Emma Thompson and Rory Kinnear. British, it’s set in Manchester, England. I’m watching it on Netflix.
They set us up in the first episode. Things are swinging to the right. Donald Trump, POTUS, is in a pissing contest with the Chinese. On Trump’s last day in office, he launches a nuke.
That sounds so Trumpian, it’s plain damn scary. I can see Trump doing that and then crowing about being strong and manly, a peace president who is only killing 40,000 to 45,000 to show the Chinese who is boss.
Right-wing ugliness, inflamed with financial instability, spreads around the world. Banks fail. Recession blooms like flowers in a warm wet spring. Along the way, a daughter decides to become trans. Not transexual or transgender, but transhuman. Another daughter is a spirited protestor who ends up with radiation sickness after filming the nuclear strike.
Refugees, torture, intolerance, hate, and spite are on display, along with differences of opinions, treachery, hope, and humanity. It’s a pretty amazing, compelling brew of life.
If it just wasn’t so damn prescience about what could happen with a madman like Trump holding the controls to a nuclear arsenal.