There are good days for the human race, those when good news falls like raindrops on the arid soil of those pre-war years. Friday, May 31, I would have learned on the radio of Trump’s condemnation and the authorization granted by Biden to Zelensky to use the weapons that the United States is sending to Ukraine to defend itself. And the demonstration in front of TF1 was also good news. What is reassuring about Trump’s conviction is that among the 12 jurors, not one, because one was enough, to feel the power, all by himself, to save the bad guy, not one to have the bad faith of saying he is innocent, accepting the evidence, not rejecting common sense under the pretext that it is necessary.
How many thousands of tons of Putin bombs, how many hundreds of deaths did it take for Biden to decide! No one dares to think that one day it will be necessary to bomb the Kremlin… I don’t dare to think so either, but what are the Russians waiting for to transform it into a production factory? reprocessing the trash of history? How many tsars, general secretaries, presidents, as soon as they entered this evil and hideous building, were struck by madness? It’s stronger than them, they only think about that, attacking Sweden, Ukraine, Turkey, Poland and so on, it’s a mania, it becomes their reason for being . Biden’s authorization will not stop the war, it may even expand it, and the hope that some gave us with Putin’s supposed incurable illness has fizzled. The bastard is in great shape and his war is redoubled in cruelty.
The last good news is for you who have not yet seen Dragan Bjelogrlic’s film, The Vinča Curie Affair, which comes out this Wednesday, June 5. A matter where common sense is difficult to find and does not triumph without risk or damage.
Coconuts as guinea pigs
Vinča is a charming town on the banks of the Danube, less than 5 kilometers from Belgrade, where the Institute of Nuclear Sciences was established in the 1950s, whose research and tests were directed by Professor Popovic. In 1957, when the affair began, Marshal Tito, who had led the Yugoslav Communist Party since 1938 and the country since the end of the war, had emancipated himself from Stalin and found nothing better to consolidate his independence than to make a nuclear bomb. Dictators are like that, we should know that.
The Institute of Nuclear Sciences was as rickety as Chernobyl would be thirty years later, but smaller. Very small, even. Small as in a Tintin among the Slavs. But for the branque side, the film is scary, or funny: seeing Professor Popovic doing experiments, we immediately think of Colonel Olrik in Blake and Mortimer. Except that there, everything really happened like that, apart from a few novelistic necessities, not at all necessary, in fact, but the screenwriters have to feel important.
To please the little father of the Yugoslav people, the professor disconnected the alarm signal which prevented him from pushing the levers all the way. And see how things progress faster when there are no more red lights, it rushes, it goes beyond expectations, that is to say it explodes everywhere and the brave laboratory workers, Popovic included, are irradiated to death. As there is obviously nothing planned in these cases, we put them in the shower. But the first radiation measurements do not give hope, they will die.
We do not know by what miracle, they were transferred to France, to the Institut Curie, where Professor Mathé officiates, who hates the atomic bomb and all those who participate in its construction, communists or not, but who sees in the taking into account gives these desperate people the unexpected opportunity to carry out the most dangerous bone marrow transplant ever attempted. Coconuts as guinea pigs? In all things bad is good.
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