On Perfection

A biography of Walt Disney ended with his death and the ironic remark that finally he (or at least his body) had found perfection. If something is inert, it is devoid of anything more than what it can be, which would have to be an atom. Perhaps the reducability of that atom through fission or fusion in a mushroom cloud is the apotheosis of perfection. It is a grim through that perhaps mankind will only reach perfection by being finally consumed in a sea of nuclear fire.