War Cry!

I can't march, but I can write
I don't sing, but my pen can bite--
It's my only weapon in the time-old fight
To overcome wrong and uplift right

Out of Africa

The disease has crossed the ocean, which was bound to happen. Fiorella realized the possibility when she first read about it years ago.  After all, the world is shrinking every day. But let's hope Ebola is contained and that the medical advances in its treatment are effective.  And let's hope it doesn't become a weapon.

A weapon, you say?

Think about infecting someone, then sending him into a target populace.  Whole nations could be wiped off the face of the earth.  Whole continents could be swept clean.  Humankind could be reduced to small enclaves hiding in caves, much as we began.

Hmm . . .  wonder if this has happened before.