Sunday, September 11, 2011

Death, in perspective

I've spent my weekend reading novels with themes of death, dying, immortality, and coming back from the dead.  The backdrop of my reading has been countless decennial specials on 9/11 and endless facebook comments commemorating the date.  With that in mind, here are some assorted thoughts on death.

1)  The simple fact is that thousands of people die every day.  In the U.S. alone, 6,675 die every day.  An average of 37 people are murdered every day in the U.STwenty percent of homicides are committed by a first degree relative, a significant other, a friend, or a neighbor.  Nearly 95 people die by suicide every day in this country.

2)  Most of the time, we don't pay a lot of attention to death, unless it directly affects us or our sense of well-being.  We see news reports of genocide and terror across the globe.  But, as a country, we do not become collectively outraged until nearly 3,000 of "us" are killed.  Then we care.  And that's not a moral judgment, really.  It's how humans operate; we are typically narcissistic in our outlook on survival.  An issue, no matter how grand, only has significance when we feel that it is about us.

3)  One of the things I remember most about 10 years ago is getting a call from my mother in the days following the 9/11 attacks.  She called to remind me to get right with God because the rising gas prices were a sign of the end times.  Keep in mind, she did not reference the deaths of nearly 3,000 people as a sign of the end times, just the rise in gas prices.

4)  One theme that often seems overlooked in remembrances of 9/11 is how relatively peaceful and secure our daily lives are as Americans.  The primary reason 9/11 was so shocking to us is that stuff like that doesn't happen here.  Sometimes, I watch global news, and I am overcome with such a heavy mixture of guilt and good fortune.  Despite neurotic anxiety, I get to live every day with few real fears.  I have a roof over my head, reliable access to food, and do not have to worry about any real likelihood of violence as I go about my day.  All because I had the good fortune to be born in America.  I didn't have to do anything to earn those privileges; my parents just had sex and birthed me here.  That's it.  No matter what the color-alert system tells us, we're all pretty damn safe.


5)  Death is a good thing.  One, it's necessary for population control.  If no one died, this place would fill up even quicker than it is.  Two, I think death reminds us that life is important.  I'm an atheist; I have no reason to believe we go anywhere after we die.  I believe my unique personality and consciousness is inextricably linked to my physical body; when my physical body ceases to exist, so do I.  But, even if you are religious and believe in an afterlife, death still serves as a reminder of life.  Death is the ultimate deadline; it reminds us that we have things to get done, and a limited amount of time in which to get them done.  As appealing as immortality is on the surface, I think I would languish in the indefinite.  And something tells me we all would.

So, here's to life, death, and not taking our privileges for granted.



Thursday, September 1, 2011

Butchy's Libation Lessons: Patron Storage and Transport

My pseudo-mother recently moved to rural eastern Kentucky to a quaint little place with no cell phone signal.  Earlier in the week, while in an area with cell signal, she sent a text asking me if I'd drive over to her Lexington house to put her garbage on the curb in time for trash collection today.  I did as I was asked, and while I was there this evening to put her trash receptacle back into her garage, I decided to see what, if anything, she had left in her refrigerator.

I discovered that she had left behind half a bottle of Patron, which she always stores in the freezer.  I made the executive decision to commandeer her Patron, as I could not text her to get permission.  I sat the bottle of Patron in the floor of the front passengers seat of my car and started driving home.

As I began looking over my left shoulder to merge onto New Circle Road, I heard a faint gunshot-esque sound to my right.  I quickly looked over to see the cork in the top of the bottle of Patron flying into the air.  I drove the rest of the way home, slightly shaken, with an open bottle of tequila in the floor.

So, here's today's libation lesson:

Patron stored in freezer + automobile with an internal temperature of 99 degrees = cork explosion

Remember to drive responsibly.

Contents under pressure