Our Only Hope in Time of Need

The federal government, always on the lookout for something new for the public to fret over, has challenged large cities around the nation to come up with some effective way to distribute antidotes to the populace within 48 hours of a chemical or biological attack.

Last week the New York Times reported that the Bloomberg administration has been bouncing around three ideas, and none of them is terribly comforting.

The first involves using volunteer mail carriers to distribute medications, which of course means that if the meds ever get there at all, they'll probably be left in a pile on the floor beneath the mailboxes, then stomped on once or twice before being stolen by the neighbors.

The second proposal seems even iffier. In the event of some large-scale medical emergency, home care workers would be conscripted to distribute the antitoxins. That's great, isn't it? They steal silverware and social security checks, abuse the people they're supposed to care for, and even plot the occasional murder. Who better to hold the lives of millions in their hands during a catastrophe?

It's the third plan, though, that's the real doozy. Fast-food restaurants could be called into service in such an event, where medicine would be handed out at the drive-thru windows.

That's just super. Not only would we have some sort of major attack to contend with and the inevitable fights that would break out while waiting on line-we'd have to worry about some disaffected 17-year-old spitting in the vaccine or lacing it with broken glass before handing it over.

Who's doing the brainstorming down at City Hall? Chimps?