I saw society had broken down at the side of the road today. Steam was issuing from the under the elevated bonnet. It looked like it had thrown a rod: oil was escaping from the undercarriage and contorted components were strewn along it's halting, terminal path. A group of concerned onlookers, with placards, had gathered to pay their last respects and stare, astonished, at the plight of the once chugging old machine. Engineers scratched their heads and held emergency committees to formulate a plan to rescue the twisted wreckage. Gone are the days that society sparkled. The chrome and brightwork polished and paintwork waxed to mirror finish by the adoring mechanic pouring hours into its maintenance. The engine, still full of horses, cleaned and serviced, cuddled in the bay, left no visible marks on the cotton gloves of fastidious scrutineers. Now it's just another rotten piece of shit, left to ruin in the elements, caked in dirt, sticky green lichen thriving in patches, moss now sprouting in tufts from the soil congregated in the creases in the body work, the fading paint cracked and blistering on the wings, rust puncturing in places as it is slowly, but obviously, eaten. So, it'll be towed to its final resting place, perhaps to be recycled into other clattering death machines, or twisted and welding into barbaric art-forms, uploaded to Reddit for time wasting and tasteless kicks. But ultimately wasted, destroyed by time and motion, or lack of motion, and lack of time.
The sack of Rome by the Vandals began today in 455.
The bombings of cities across the United States of America by Italian anarchists includes a series of 8 simultaneous bombings, today in 1919.