Friday, June 04, 2004
Death is so not Fun or Cool
I’ve recently developed a little habit (in fact, let’s take a cue from the mini-donut people and call it a “habette”) of flipping on the morning news while I complete the various near-compulsive rituals that help me prepare for my day. Typically, this just means that I flip back and forth comparing the inane small talk capabilities of the major network anchors and trying to spot the tiny staples that keep Katie Couric’s forehead from slipping right off her face while I eat my Fruity Pebbles, get dressed, repeatedly wash my hands, etc. But today I heard a story that really caught my attention, and no, it wasn’t the heartwarming one right before they sign off about the one-legged squirrel that knows how to drive a tractor.
Apparently, some guy in the suburbs went off his medication and just started stabbing people in a Walgreens, eventually killing a one-year-old and injuring a whole slew of other people. It’s sad, sure, but no sadder than yesterday’s killing or the one the day before. (In Chicago it’s basically just a daily segment on the news – weather, sports, murder. I also want to point out that this is the second per-capita murder capital I have lived in, Decatur, IL, being the first, although both cities have experienced mysterious declines in their murder rates after my arrival.) But what really struck me was the randomness of the whole thing. Just imagine – you spend your whole life eschewing french fries and burritos in favor of heart healthy oat bran, wearing huge idiotic-looking hats to avoid that nasty cancer-causing sun, never missing a chance to wear a seat belt or a condom, basically doing everything you’re “supposed to do” and wham, one day you’re pricing nasal decongestants in aisle seven and you get cut up by some nutjob who decided he didn’t need his mood stabilizers any more. Damn. The world isn’t fair, I know, but can’t it at least be a little more predictable? Why can’t we assign life spans according to merit? No one would miss Sharon Stone.
This isn’t a whole “live every day to the fullest” thing for me; my life is pretty full, thank you, and I’ve seen way too many people go out to seize the day and just end up grabbing substance abuse problems and herpes. Nor am I espousing the precariousness of existence; I’m pretty sure the number of people NOT randomly targeted by lunatics still exceeds the number shot in Sbarros. Frankly, I’m not sure what it is. Maybe I’m just appreciating life, and how much it beats the alternative. Maybe I just need some mood stabilizers. I can tell you for damn sure, though, that the next time I head in for some cough drops I’ll definitely be watching my back.
I’ve recently developed a little habit (in fact, let’s take a cue from the mini-donut people and call it a “habette”) of flipping on the morning news while I complete the various near-compulsive rituals that help me prepare for my day. Typically, this just means that I flip back and forth comparing the inane small talk capabilities of the major network anchors and trying to spot the tiny staples that keep Katie Couric’s forehead from slipping right off her face while I eat my Fruity Pebbles, get dressed, repeatedly wash my hands, etc. But today I heard a story that really caught my attention, and no, it wasn’t the heartwarming one right before they sign off about the one-legged squirrel that knows how to drive a tractor.
Apparently, some guy in the suburbs went off his medication and just started stabbing people in a Walgreens, eventually killing a one-year-old and injuring a whole slew of other people. It’s sad, sure, but no sadder than yesterday’s killing or the one the day before. (In Chicago it’s basically just a daily segment on the news – weather, sports, murder. I also want to point out that this is the second per-capita murder capital I have lived in, Decatur, IL, being the first, although both cities have experienced mysterious declines in their murder rates after my arrival.) But what really struck me was the randomness of the whole thing. Just imagine – you spend your whole life eschewing french fries and burritos in favor of heart healthy oat bran, wearing huge idiotic-looking hats to avoid that nasty cancer-causing sun, never missing a chance to wear a seat belt or a condom, basically doing everything you’re “supposed to do” and wham, one day you’re pricing nasal decongestants in aisle seven and you get cut up by some nutjob who decided he didn’t need his mood stabilizers any more. Damn. The world isn’t fair, I know, but can’t it at least be a little more predictable? Why can’t we assign life spans according to merit? No one would miss Sharon Stone.
This isn’t a whole “live every day to the fullest” thing for me; my life is pretty full, thank you, and I’ve seen way too many people go out to seize the day and just end up grabbing substance abuse problems and herpes. Nor am I espousing the precariousness of existence; I’m pretty sure the number of people NOT randomly targeted by lunatics still exceeds the number shot in Sbarros. Frankly, I’m not sure what it is. Maybe I’m just appreciating life, and how much it beats the alternative. Maybe I just need some mood stabilizers. I can tell you for damn sure, though, that the next time I head in for some cough drops I’ll definitely be watching my back.
