Rambi, here's an example of war humor from one of my favorites. Looks like some writers are trying it.
Adapting to a New Way of Living
By Joel Achenbach
Washington Post Staff Writer
Wednesday, October 17, 2001; 12:55 PM
Turning on the news lately or glancing as the morning paper is about as entertaining as renting "Friday the 13th Part VI: Jason Lives." It's a relentless, nauseating horror show, day after day.
The other morning I was watching TV when a friend walked by and asked, "What's the latest?"
"Death," I said. "Terror. War. Unresolvable global hatred and violence and misery."
My friend said, "So nothing's new."
These days we check the news to find out if anyone's come up with a novel way to kill us. It's always reassuring to know that we are still being terrorized in familiar ways -- the conventional unconventional attacks. Anthrax? Suddenly it's a just another part of daily American life.
We adapt and move on. This is what humans do -- we are the hyperadaptable species that lives from pole to pole, from mountaintops to dense jungles. We are technological creatures who venture to the bottom of ocean trenches, hop around on the moon and orbit the Earth so routinely that people on the ground forget that anyone's up there. We can overcome this present reign of terror. We've been through worse than this -- possibly.
When we get on an airplane now we simply incorporate into our routine a mental checklist for how we will subdue anyone who tries to fly the plane into a building. You make sure your seat is in its full and upright position, buckle your seatbelt, secure your tray table and look for objects you can hurl at a hijacker.
(Is all this too, you know, flip? Then read something else! I assure you that everything else on the Web site is sufficiently dire and horrifying. Someone's got to do the Terror Humor.)
Yesterday at my office there was an anthrax scare and the building was quickly surrounded by fire trucks and hazardous materials vans and hooded guys in orange jumpsuits. Naturally our supervisors passed word that there was nothing to worry about. Why get worried just because the building is being cordoned off with police crime-scene tape and some folks are here looking for the Andromeda Strain? We went about our business. I kept telling myself, "Don't worry, even if it's anthrax, it's probably one of the less lethal strains."
The modern urban person wards off evils through the adoption of expertise. Any day now we'll have memorized the various anthrax brand names, the grades of quality, the milling techniques and grain sizes. We'll find ourselves saying things like, "Don't worry, that Iraqi B-grade doesn't aerosolize too easily."
For weeks now a friend who works in the Senate has been worried that the Capitol is a target. I've tried to be reassuring. In all probability, I said, things will be fine. I think we can all agree that that the arrival of an envelope of military-grade anthrax and the exposure of more than 20 staffers does not meet the definition of things being "fine." That's SO not fine. My friend told me, "I'd get the nostril swab test but the line is about 500 people long." We discussed whether he might find a way to skip to the front of the line. In Washington, cutting to the front of the anthrax test line is what we now refer to as "one of life's little pleasures."
Today's news features more details about the attack on Afghanistan. There's a cheery situation. The place has already been cratered by two decades of war; millions of people face starvation. No one believes this particular military operation will solve the problem of terrorism. It might not even REDUCE the problem of terrorism. It will only guarantee -- hopefully -- that certain terrorists go from the Most Wanted list to the Most Deceased list.
Bin Laden, for all we know, is sitting in a cafe in Amsterdam. His terrorists may have long since wandered off into Pakistan or some other such place, disguised as ordinary fellows who are "between jobs." If they make an offhand remark that indicates a virulent hatred of America that'll just help them blend in with the crowd.
The other day I was hiking in the woods, which are gloriously colorful right now, and I wondered if the terrorists have ever, even for a moment, paused to enjoy the beauty of nature, the miracle of life on Earth. A recent statement by an al Qaeda spokesman comes to mind: "There are thousands of young people who look forward to death like the Americans look forward to life." My guess is that this guy's not interested in joining the Sierra Club.
Every few days we hear of some new and disturbing manifestation of terror. I spoke yesterday -- true story -- to a former public official who said that it might be possible for Osama bin Laden and his network to obtain a nuclear weapon in Pakistan, which possesses nukes and is not exactly a stable nation. He also talked about the possibility that bioterrorism could kill one third of the planet's population. After I hung up I went to lunch and had the usual, a turkey sandwich. This is life now: You contemplate unspeakable, insane, apocalyptic horror, then you go get your turkey sandwich.
Today I'm miffed at Stephen Hawking, the famous physicist. He has decided to offer up the helpful observation that unless we colonize some other planet we will likely become extinct in a matter of centuries.
"I don't think the human race will survive the next thousand years unless we spread into space. There are too many accidents that can befall life on a single planet," Hawking told Britain's Daily Telegraph newspaper.
He's worried about exotic biological weapons, reportedly.
"Nuclear weapons need large facilities, but genetic engineering can be done in a small lab. You can't regulate every lab in the world."
This is just what we need: For the world's smartest man to raise the possibility that EVERYONE on Earth will die. His "solution" to the problem is space travel. That way, down the road, someone could say, "On Earth, six billion people died, but, on the brighter side, some humans survived on Neptune."
I'm not against going to another world. But is it okay with everyone if I cling to my perhaps naive belief that there's still some hope for this one?
© 2001 The Washington Post Company |
