Tim's arms race is as hypnotizing as that of the search for max strength crypto: how to prepare for beseiged last war scenarios, when resupply is overrun with refugees, weather prevents airborne rescue, comm is jammed, deadmeat is piled all around or run away screaming with terror ... or numb with media burnout. Have many other of us have been on that hilltop, too, or struggling to get there RSN 'cause life truly sucks? What you do when no help is coming and nobody on earth gives a FF about your lonely carcass, well, that's when you fire the last .223 where it's been designed to indifferently go, to finally solve Cunanin misjudgments with hoseaway mess. Hard life teaches: The only safelove communication is end to end to yourself, ricochet alarms of system breakdown of pointless existence between heart and head. The universe broadcasts: The only totally impregnable protection of survivalist megalomania hardwired in all of us is to wage war and lose all our ambitions for immortality within our custom-made body bag. Or race ahead terabyte to orthagonal suicide, clearing slow-go bandwidth for reproductive mates to logon to a more reliably lazy DNA ISP.