We love you, Ron Rosenbaum. We truly, unironically love you.
You see… a few weeks ago we attended the weirdtastic Atlantic 150th Birthday Party. It was kind of great in all its awkward, media party-gone-wrong glory.
But Rosenbaum attended too and found it to be a portent of World War III in his Slate column chronicling signs of an immenient third world war:
Which brings me to the folk singer at the Atlantic’s anniversary party. The party has become somewhat famous or infamous, but the high point for me was not the attractive contortionist writhing around at the lip of the stage; for me, it was hearing-in the midst of all my World War III maunderings-the folk singer they hired bust out with a World War III ballad.
Only, he didn’t call it “World War III.” He called it “World War Ay Ay Ay” (as in I I I, get it?). It lacked the black humor of Dylan’s Cuban Missile Crisis-era ode, “Talkin’ World War III Blues,” but it was pretty dead-on: perhaps a bit maudlin, but sadly all too appropriate.
Ay, ay, ay, indeed.
That’s right the folk singer (Josh Ritter) equals the probable fall of Pakistan’s nukes into the hands of jihadis and America’s B-52 nuke faux pas in Rosenbaum’s book.