DISCLAIMER: The following discourse has no basis in reality and anyone implicated or implied is nothing more than imagination far away.

Father Wracker was a distant father.  He never said much and when he came home from teaching disadvantaged students Business at LACC, he would sit and smoke cigarettes and have a red can of Coca-Cola.   Sometimes the Wracks would wake up late at night and tell him to go to sleep put out his cigarette and lead him to his bedroom.    He was a part-time insurance broker and no one ever thought so much of him.  He had few friends and when they appeared, he and Mother Wracker would fix them a fine dinner and then sit in the green living room and drink brandy.   He was never there much unless someone needed him; the Wracks wondered where he spent all his free time.   He would disappear on business trips for a week or more and show up again and begin again.   The family would celebrate Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter and go to midnight mass sometimes on the Navidad.   The Wracks wondered where all the time went and then it was over.  

The holidays are here once again, bringing poignant memories that one cannot forget and the alone are morose.  Everything has changed.   Sometimes he would come home early and ask the Wracks to borrow his CO2 bb pistol and he would practice in the yard shooting a soda can, the yard with one white rose.   Grandmother passed away and, in his mind, the Wracks see here in Finland, she now is on her own.   When the Wracks returned from his education, he got an aneurysm and the Wracks rushed him to the hospital, and he was saved.  The world would get twenty more years from him.  He wouldn’t go on business trips anymore, and the endless years of eating amphetamine and smoking cigarettes while on assignment finally caught up to him.   The powers that be gave him an assignment as an analyst at a firm with a standard name so he could derive a pension and retire with some money.  A friend of his got into a jam in a far-off place and Father Wracker gave his entire pension to an unscrupulous jailor and that man came home.  When he retired, the firm gave him a gold Rolex watch and he never wore it, and the Wracks inherited it and it stays in his drawer today.  One holiday dinner while the Wracks were clearing dishes, he sat down and Father Wracker stuck his index finger into his forearm and said, 

Never join the CIA, let someone else do it.  

He never said anything more and his greyish-black eyes focused and pin pricked and that was that.

Years go by and the Wracks has gone away and visit his parents from time to time with his blond-haired wife.  They left tranquil hills because the location was too hot and moved to Indian Wells, near Indio to watch a house for a gentrified man who needed someone to live in his mansion.  When he was down there, once, he asked the Wracks to take him for chemotherapy.   He developed skin cancer of the head and face from witnessing countless atomic explosions and the Wracks waited as he vomited into a brown grocery bag after a treatment.   He also developed hypertension and nothing in the allopathic armory works.   The elite decided that Father Wracker needed a kidney transplant and he died, and his wife didn’t want to live alone and cursed everyone around her.  They say that they use you as long as you are effective, and when you know too much, they get rid of you.  So it goes.

The time has gone away, and another generation is safe from the ravages of the bad guys.  Whatever race or religion they are or what they think is immaterial.  We were saved and the world goes on like nothing ever happened, and there is no money because they cannot acknowledge your existence without admitting coercion.   The Wracks wonders if there is anything in Swiss bank accounts because, for a wage earner, everything helps.   Before he died, he said to Wracks in passing, “For a long shot use a 7.62”.  The Argentine national government would never let him emigrate because he didn’t have enough money.

A long time has passed, and The Wracks sits looking out a window. The holidays are upon us and the Wracks have a son.    All seems good.   There is one thing and one thing only the Wracks has on his bucket list.  He doesn’t want to see the French museum or the holy city of Saint Petersburg.   He doesn’t want to visit Cambodia and view the resting place of the beloved Borte Kalel at Angor Wat.   He hopes the government will give him access to the tomb of the Unknown Soldier, and kneel, and say a prayer and thank God that his generation was delivered from evil.  

It was and it is and the Wracks have a ride surfing.  The Getty has a white and neon yellow Volkswagen bus of 1959 vintage, configured for trips.  An Abarth tuned exhaust system gives the 1300 cc rig ten more horsepower and top speed flat out on a level straight of about sixty miles per hour.  No one knows how the Getty comes up with these concoctions but he does, again and again.   On a Saturday, bright and early, Getty, Kool, and the Wracks will venture south for a two-hour drive to Diego.  In the winter, in California, for some reason unknown, Diego has the most consistent surf on the California Coast except for Steamer Lane in Santa Cruz.   In Leucadia and Encinitas,  any swell with a north bent fills in there, and even in the summer, there are small wavelets to ride.   The Wracks planned to live here but it never transpired and this is why. 

The Getty and Kool show up around six o’clock in the morning and as always Kool waits in the car and smokes.   Getty arouses Wracks from slumber by pounding on his window, and toast with an egg and two dollars of gas money get the Wracks a seat in the back, with the boards, to go surfing where there are waves. Six dollars fill the small rear tank.   In California, somewhere, waves worth riding, happen every day, especially if the intrepid are willing to drive, or even fly there.  Hawaii is windy and rainy and the reason everyone flocks to this island retreat is because the water is a warm seventy degrees plus.  In California, fifty-degree water is commonplace, and the wind can blow very cold.  The Wracks throws one of his second-hand boards in the back along with his blue Nat Pro wetsuit.   The boys are smoking and whatever up front and toss the Wracks a lit nib when they are done with it.  Smoke billows out the windows.  A police car pulls up alongside the bright yellow van and Getty waves to him and he waves back.  Past the endless refineries and smell of non-olfactory money, the three find themselves in Diego, and they turn off at Encinitas.

We are going to Moonlight says Kool,  Yah Deh.  A left breaking off a rock reef, the best in Diego

I heard it is good too, says Getty.  The Fonz and Dick surf it all the time.

The Fonz never told me about it says the Wracks, and the two up fronts look at each other. 

 Moonlight is a street sign that stands in front of a beach shrouded by a strand of tall Pine trees.  No one can see the beach; a traveler must meander down the path to get there.  The Wracks guesses that all good things are obscured this way.  After the Getty parks, near the street sign, He gets out and a tall, blond head appears out of the bush.  The Getty goes and speaks with him, shakes his head, and saunters back to the car. 

We can’t surf here, says the Getty.   We have the Wracks with us.   We will have to come back some other day in the winter.   Right now, the left reef is six feet and glassy.

My backside is not so good anyway say the Wracks, I am sorry.  I have trouble dropping in on left tubing waves.

We are going to Del Mar, says Getty, but first the seven-eleven. 

A tall Anglo-Saxon man the Encinitas Seven Eleven.  The Wracks buys a tall Slurpee in cherry, his favorite flavor.   The Getty and Kool buy bags of junk of every make and description.  They eat half of everything and throw the rest out the window.  Getty eats half of the microwaved hot dogs.  Kool has his favorite, a pastrami sandwich and a Heineken beer. 

You are not eighteen yet say the Wracks, How did you buy that beer?

I have a fake I.D. says Kool, you can obtain one for five hundred bucks from a professional.  Yeah!

Del Mar is good today, with about four to six-foot peaks, breaking on a rocky sand bar.   Wracks practices going left on his six-foot eight-inch square tail with two round side fins inspired by Craig Wilson.  Ing shaped it in his garage. 

Do you like the three fins ask the Getty.

It doesn’t spin out and has more draw says the Wracks.

The session is over and the mid-day sun brings the predominant westerly on-shore wind that slightly blows everything out.

Let’s head home says Getty

The two light up in front and the Wracks have a Pall-Mall cigarette in the back and flick the ash through the side windows. The roaring Abarth exhaust system permeates the environment with a blaring sound and the Yellow VW heads on home on the Freeway and the Wracks fall asleep.

The big pine tree in front of the Bacon Way residence reminds the Wracks that he is home.

Time to dislodge says the Getty

I will throw my stuff on the ivy says the Wracks.

We are going to the Rainbow tonight, says the Getty. Want to tag along?

Don’t have any money says the Wracks, and I have to study

Plenty of blow says Kool, and girls.  Yeah!

I have to stay with my grandmother tonight, my father is on another business trip and my mother is working. We are going to have chicken with parsley and garlic.

Suit yourself says the Getty, See you next time the swell comes up, and they put the van in reverse, turn one hundred eighty degrees, and dart away.

Tranquil Hill is nice in the winter.  Never too hot and never too cold, and green and grown in.   A single white rose grows in the planter, in the back, the rest have died off.  The Wracks has a cup of Yuban coffee brewed from a percolator setup along with a Pall Mall Gold King with a filter and he loses himself in a book.  I can’t wait till next time; I just can’t wait.  

Overview

Building a hydrogen bomb is quick and easy. Forty years ago Time magazine ran an expose on how to build a cheap atomic bomb.   The difficult part lies in the effort to obtain enriched uranium or plutonium to be used as a detonator.  The critical mass of plutonium lies within forty to sixty pounds of enriched fuel.  If such a mass comes together in one place, it begins to fission.  The fission reaction builds to a crescendo and the fission nucleus becomes a fissile.  A hydrogen bomb can be ignited with a fissile. The color of fast neutrons screaming from a fissile pile demonstrates a sky-blue light of amazing intensity.

Fission devices

An atomic bomb can be either a fat boy device or a thin man device.  A fat boy device builds as crescent wedges of plutonium that assemble into a sphere.  The wedges drive together with the force of an explosive blasting cap. The Thin Man device is designed as three rods of enriched plutonium that fit in a tube.  The three remain separated until driven together by a blasting cap.  The thin man design remains the most reliable of the atomic bomb designs and the Russians use this design exclusively in their atomic devices.

Other ways can coax subcritical masses of plutonium to fission.  Submitting enriched plutonium masses to intense pressures forces the plutonium to fission.  Spinning spheres of plutonium at high rotations per minute stimulates plutonium to fission.  The half-life of plutonium is around 5280 years at which time a plutonium atom degrades and emits a slow neutron.  The capture area of slow neutrons in a plutonium atom is small so that random degradations do not initiate a chain reaction.  Crushing or spinning plutonium increases the capture area as an arithmetic function of pressure or when spinning as an arc inscribed by a rotating mass with radius alpha. By artificial means such as the aforementioned, subcritical masses can be cajoled into a chain reaction.

Fusion bomb design.

Classically, an atom of deuterium fused with an atom of tritium becomes an atom of helium with a liberated mass deficit in energy.  The truth exists to the effect that all alkali metals in the periodic table of elements can be fusion fuel if the conditions of fusion are met. A hydrogen bomb simply stated; is an atomic bomb with hydrogen surrounding the fission mass.  The hydrogen can be in the form of tanks of gas or as a hydride. Hydrogen gas remains the most stable form of hydrogen to be used in a fusion device. Now they have hydride.  Pure lithium metal undergoes atomic fusion and the calculated mass deficit of fusion surpasses the mass deficit of hydrogen fusion into helium.  The next generation of fusion devices will use lithium metal as a fusion substrate.  With the knowledge of the above parameters, miniaturization of fusion devices becomes possible and within the realm of plausibility.  Beryllium also functions as a fusion substrate.  Encapsulating a fissile with a Beryllium sphere creates relativistic conditions.

A Poor man’s hydrogen bomb

Creating an explosive with lithium hydride and magnesium possibly assembles a cheap hydrogen bomb.  The Gibbs free energy of magnesium oxidation might be of sufficient intensity to approach relativity and induce a fusion event as the fusion enthalpy of hydrogen has been exceeded.    Encapsulating the mass with Beryllium might augment the necessary environment for hydride fusion and stimulate a chain reaction.  This is like putting gunpowder in a bamboo cylinder like Genghis Khan.

Hope

God gave man the gift of intelligence and thought to separate him from animals and beasts.  The strict policing and governing over enriched uranium and plutonium production ensures no criminal to access the basis for explosives of incredible magnitude. Atomic explosives heat the environment.    As is the plight of human existence, small lithium bombs on portable handheld missiles will soon enter the theatre of modern warfare. The burden of the next generation will be the humane and constructive use and application of nuclear power in an atmosphere of permissiveness and proliferation.  

Everything in life is symmetrical, periodical, and cyclic.  The intrinsic forces that form all beings are the same. The man searches for the parameters that define existence.  He searches for the universal field equation and it eludes him.  Perhaps someone thinks we are not ready, or deserving.  From the green and deep forests to the big fields and pastures to the blue expansive ocean, and the small atom, it is all the same.   The same laws that govern nature in the form of exponent e to the logarithmic expanses of the electromagnetic spectrum, to the vibrating quintesimal existence of matter, there exists one rule, one paradigm to rule us all to show mankind the way to the next star.

Fusion enthalpy is the relativity that permits the change of matter to energy.  Fusion enthalpy is defined as the mass number times the speed of light squared.  This is the relation that fuels the lifespan of stars and gives humankind a home for now.   All elements undergo fusion to a point, then they undergo fission and the cycle repeats and energy is neither created nor destroyed.   The sun mainly feeds on hydrogen fusion because it is the most abundant element and has the lowest fusion enthalpy.  As all the hydrogen is used up, the sun will transit to lithium, then to beryllium, and finally the transition metal series when the sun glows a deep red.  When the star exceeds the maximum fusion enthalpy, the weak gravitational force causes the mass to collapse, and the heavy mass undergoes fission with a big bang and the cycle repeats anew.   When energy transits a certain distance, not yet calculated, it slows down and becomes matter which then coalesces and eventually forms a star.  Radiant energy when it slows down becomes hydrogen, helium, and lithium and the cycle begins anew.  The interstellar dust that plagues unmanned space exploration is merely energy that has slowed down and become mass again. We can’t see because the process is slow but in the lifespan of a galaxy, a million years is but a twinkling light.  If we find a way to slow down radiation, we can produce mass for our fusion reactors as most energy that slows down becomes hydrogen.  Fusion reactions flame out and fission reactions go critical, and this is why we cannot contain fusion, as of now.

An atomic bomb can be initiated with a fissile.   A critical is not necessary.  A fissile is all that is necessary to ignite hydride to fusion.  Once fusion initiates, a layer of lithium, and then a layer of beryllium provide the fusion enthalpy for ignition to super mass.   In this way, atomic explosives can be made small for deposition in a stringent way and deployed judiciously.

  It is the weak force, and not the zillions of subatomic particles that delight physicists that holds the key to relativity.  The force of gravity is a wave and particle just like light and is produced by the intrinsic vibrations of mass and is the key to transposition and voyage to the next star.  Gravity waves are produced just like Maxwell Ian’s magnetic waves and radiate out from the photon in a different plane.   To produce gravity, a scientist accelerates protons to the speed of light, which then produces gravity in another plane, in relation to the quanta of energy evoking the change in mass.

I guess we are nearly there.  All that is needed is a little prayer in the hope the blind might come to their senses and see.    

The Wracks is at the big U.   They take the top ten percent of students in the United States.  The Wrack has a high SAT score.  He takes the hour-long bus ride from the suburbs every morning.  The monthly pass for students costs twenty-five dollars.  The bus is new and nice and air-conditioned and drops him off directly on the main campus.   He smokes cigarettes and drinks coffee to keep him going through four hours of classes and eight hours of homework each night.  Some of the older students don’t like him smoking and tell him so.  He sits on the steps of the hall opposite the main library and waits for classes and labs that occur sometimes three times a week.  He has another cigarette and disposes of it.   At five o’clock every day, he and his friend who studies Political Science go to the student union and the wracks have his dinner for 99 cents.   He buys a bowl of stew which is different every day and a pack of saltine crackers.  When he needs some sleep he sleeps in public in the plush chairs in the reading room of the student union.  He goes to school every morning at seven and comes home every night on the last bus at 9 fifty-five.  The days go by and he studies chemistry and genetics and whatever is necessary to get a degree. Hopefully, this work lands him a good job somewhere or at least in graduate school.  But it didn’t.

Sitting on the steps of the big Hall smoking, the Wracks notice that all the upper-class students dress in nice clothes, pair up with beautiful women, and go to a bar in town at lunch.   In the summer they fly on vacation, go skiing, and in the winter go to Hawaii.   The Wracks takes the six-week summer session that is so intense, that he can only take one.   Then he needs to rest.  The students who drive around in nice cars, and don’t show up for lectures, all get straight A’s in science. He sees the grades on the board every month.  With all his work, all he can earn is a B.  He wonders why.  He eventually sees, after he graduates, that the reason rich students are so gifted is because they buy the exams the night before taking them and have starving graduate students do their homework.  The most prestigious and important positions in society are occupied by rich criminals.  All the doctors a person depends on for their lives and all attorneys people use to keep them out of prison are unscrupulous cheaters.  Rich mothers and fathers buy licensing exams for their children a year beforehand, and they memorize them, and then take the test to become licensed professionals.  In addition, in the book “The Challenge of Democracy”, the text states that one-half of all political appointments is favoritism.   The Wracks think it always was this way, no matter what society.  Our nation created by geniuses as a nation under God is run by criminals and mental defectives who are related to the politicians in power

Can it be said that the author is a non-productive worker, this may be true.   The way the Wracks think to rectify this condition is to make all certifying examinations and licensing Boards public domain in a huge tome for all to read and have access to.  All a student needs to do is purchase a book with a compendium of all the latest test questions, study them, and pass the boards.   This way everyone is on equal footing.   This is how they do it in Mexico. 

One of the greatest Americans that ever lived was Thomas Jefferson.   He hung a huge two-hundred-pound wheel of cheddar cheese from the roof and lived on it.   His water supply was eventually contaminated with arsenic and he went blind.   They did not have water filtration devices in those days.  He is the one who wrote the song “Country Road”, and when he was blind,  he trained horses to take him into town and back every day until he died.  It is his idea, and his only to make the practice of Law available to all Americans in good standing who can pass the bar.  This way the forces in power cannot stack the judiciary with elitists.   Medicine should be the same way.  Instead of begging, and stealing to get into an opulent medical school.  Any American who passes the board examinations should be allowed to matriculate to an internship and get their license.  In medicine, the house staff has the final say if an individual is to be certified, to be ethical enough to practice medicine.  It has to be that way.

It is imperative and critical that a nation be guided by the appropriate people, not the best porno actors. It is nearly impossible to seize military control of a nation unless the elite can stack the judiciary and the medical sector.   If we the people ensure that professionals are smart enough, ethical enough, and strong enough, no person or military can unseat the government, and the United States can continue to function as One Nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.