As Ahmadinejad pulls his nuclear saber another inch from its scabbard, my Cold War anxieties return. My dreams become a series of nuclear scenarios. A nuke hits downtown Denver, the stem of the mushroom expanding to encompass my house. A failed attack results in an Iranian Saegheh aircraft exploding on 16th street during Christmas season.
None of this is reasonable; if (when?) Iran is ready to use nukes, Denver is not a likely target, and I don’t think there’s any way a Saegheh fighter jet could make it to middle America.
But then, saber-rattling isn’t intended to produce rational results.