Friday, July 08, 2005
In Which I Get All Profound and Shit
So terrorism is back, it seems. Just when we all thought it was so 2001, like Chandra Levy and actually caring about Survivor. I'm sorry it happened to London; although it rained most of the time I was there and someone tried to make me eat part of a cow intestine, it seems like a pretty good spot. Mary Poppins is from there, and Madonna and Gwyneth pretend they are, too. It can't be all bad.
Of course, I am just the tiniest bit shamefully glad it didn't happen here. When I woke up and saw Katie Couric with serious face on, I knew that either something had blown up or Tom Cruise had finally exacted his final and terrifying revenge on Matt Lauer. Then I saw the "terror attack" headline on the bottom of the screen and I was momentarily convinced the dirty bombs and poisonous crop dusters were headed straight for my door. But then I heard the attacks in question had happened overseas, and I felt a lot better. Then I felt worse for feeling better about that, but you get the picture. There's relief to be had in the fact that it's not right at your front door.
Now everyone is of course talking about how to prevent terrorism again. Lots of ridiculous ideas are going around, but I think they basically amount to invading six or seven more oil-rich countries and rescinding the civil liberties of everyone whose skin is darker than taupe. Of course, my initial approach to safety post 9/11 was to barricade myself in my Champaign, IL, apartment with six tubs of Chunky Monkey and copies of every teen movie known to man, but I like to think I've matured past that. The sad truth I now embrace is that I am never going to be truly safe. If someone is mad enough and crazy enough, he's going to find a way to kill me, whether it be by planing or poisoning my water supply or just by shooting me at a showing of Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants (a mercy killing if ever there was one). So am I going to live in fear? Well, no more than usual. I was never that big of a fan of suspicious packages on trains to begin with.
So terrorism is back, it seems. Just when we all thought it was so 2001, like Chandra Levy and actually caring about Survivor. I'm sorry it happened to London; although it rained most of the time I was there and someone tried to make me eat part of a cow intestine, it seems like a pretty good spot. Mary Poppins is from there, and Madonna and Gwyneth pretend they are, too. It can't be all bad.
Of course, I am just the tiniest bit shamefully glad it didn't happen here. When I woke up and saw Katie Couric with serious face on, I knew that either something had blown up or Tom Cruise had finally exacted his final and terrifying revenge on Matt Lauer. Then I saw the "terror attack" headline on the bottom of the screen and I was momentarily convinced the dirty bombs and poisonous crop dusters were headed straight for my door. But then I heard the attacks in question had happened overseas, and I felt a lot better. Then I felt worse for feeling better about that, but you get the picture. There's relief to be had in the fact that it's not right at your front door.
Now everyone is of course talking about how to prevent terrorism again. Lots of ridiculous ideas are going around, but I think they basically amount to invading six or seven more oil-rich countries and rescinding the civil liberties of everyone whose skin is darker than taupe. Of course, my initial approach to safety post 9/11 was to barricade myself in my Champaign, IL, apartment with six tubs of Chunky Monkey and copies of every teen movie known to man, but I like to think I've matured past that. The sad truth I now embrace is that I am never going to be truly safe. If someone is mad enough and crazy enough, he's going to find a way to kill me, whether it be by planing or poisoning my water supply or just by shooting me at a showing of Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants (a mercy killing if ever there was one). So am I going to live in fear? Well, no more than usual. I was never that big of a fan of suspicious packages on trains to begin with.
