We oil the jaws of the war machine and feed it with our babies.
The killer's breed or the demon's seed, the glamour, the fortune, the pain,
Go to war again, blood is freedom's stain, don't you pray for my soul anymore.
2 minutes to midnight, the hands that threaten doom.
2 minutes to midnight, to kill the unborn in the womb. -- Iron Maiden, 1984.
I suppose only so much can be made of the symbolism of the doomsday clock, seeing as how it is done by mere scientists, and thus no one important.
It is inescapable that the powers that be have, through their manifest policies and steadfast ignorance, made this world a more dangerous place. They will leave office in a couple of years, knowing full well that the planet and its inhabitants are positioned much more precariously in many areas than when they came into power. Thus they have to spend the rest of their careers and lives relying on terminally craven apologists to squint hard and find legacies to burnish.
Failing that, the usual dollops of belligerent nonsense and print fellatio will suffice.
Oh, Stephen Hawking. How would he know? He's not a rugged outdoorsman, like duh preznit. Can he clear brush? Can he tell his Secret Service detail to let him win his next mountain-bike run? Didn't think so. QED, muthafuckas!
And as far as matters of war, remember that each of these things -- North Korea, Iran, and Iraq -- are by-products of a de facto policy of (to put it as charitably as possible) malign neglect. More to come.