I don't wish to be alarmist but, by the time you read this, life on earth could have taken a devastating turn for the worst. "The moment of explosion is approaching fast," North Korea has announced, and war could break out "today or tomorrow".
That was, um, on Wednesday, so you could say Armageddon's running a wee bit late, but that's certainly no thanks to Kim Jong-un, who has feverishly been upping the ante in his bid to bring on World War Three. Busy as a demented bee, Kim's pudgy little fingers were all a-blur as he tore up the 2007 disarmament deal intended to curtail the country's nuclear ambitions and then scrapped the 1953 armistice with South Korea and declared that a state of war once again exists between the two countries.
He is clearly barking mad and of no use to anyone other than as a sobering example of what happens when ideology has bred with itself. The Chinese know this - and that is why they have voted for UN sanctions against their former ally. But still the whacko stuff comes, courtesy of the state news agency.
"Now that the revolutionary armed forces of the DPRK [Democratic People's Republic of Korea] have entered into an actual military action, the inter-Korean relations have naturally entered the state of war. Provocations will not be limited to a local war, but develop into an all-out war, a nuclear war."
As Kim told troops last month, "Once an order is issued, you should break the waists of the crazy enemies, totally cut their windpipes and thus clearly show what a real war is like."
There is some doubt as to whether the DPRK was currently capable of staging a Boy Scout jamboree, let alone a real war. Thanks to the policies of his father and grandfather, Kim has inherited a country in economic ruin and the population faces a constant threat of mass starvation. For all the talk of "bolstering up the nuclear armed force both in quantity and quality", recent tests revealed they have some way to go when it comes to building missiles of any significance.
Pyongyang's threats of nuclear strikes at targets in the United States have nevertheless not been taken lightly. There is a fear that, like a spoilt child, Kim may just push the buttons to see what happens, so the Pentagon has beefed up defences and the US military presence in the Pacific been ramped up accordingly.
One of the many, many possible drawbacks of Doomsday is that we'll never know if any good came from this week's government leadership summit meeting.
Would, for argument's sake, the anti-corruption bureau to be set up by Public Service and Administration Minister Lindiwe Sisulu - no sniggering at the back of the room, please - be able to carry out its mandate now that a new ice age was upon us?
And why bother about the high turnover of directors-general in government departments when the world outside the Nkandla bunker was shrouded in permanent darkness as radioactive clouds blot out the sun?
And yet, and yet . . . it was encouraging to hear Minister in the Presidency Trevor Manuel tell the summit that government had run out of excuses and had no one but itself to blame "for our failings as a state".
It was particularly pleasing - at least to the Mahogany Ridge regulars - that Manuel's frankness came at a time when it is still quite fashionable for the government to attribute their poor performances to the "legacy of apartheid".
Just six months ago, for example, President Jacob Zuma told a local government conference: "There is a common tendency to look at government at all levels as if those who are governing have brought the problem, instead of deep-seated challenges [from] the past."
Manuel has now had enough. "We can no longer say it is apartheid's fault," he was quoted as saying. "There is no [PW] Botha regime looking over our shoulder - we are responsible ourself."
Ourself? Ourselves? But fie on the pedantry. This is an important admission, the first step towards recovery. You want to fix a problem? First acknowledge there is a problem. This what they tell alcoholics.
And with that, enter Health Minister Aaron Motsoaledi who comes to wage war with us happy drinkers. He wants to ban alcohol advertising, and will be presenting parliament with draft legislation in the next few days.
The nanny state wants to break our crazy waists? And totally cut our parched windpipes? Bring it on. It's going to be as daft as North Koreans with damp rockets.
This article first appeared in The Weekend Argus.
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