Wednesday, October 19, 2005

The Collective Worry Stack

In Blogger, you can "Save as Draft" or "Publish Post." If you choose the former, it gets filed, but no one can see it. I've accumulated quite a collection of things I've saved as drafts--or ultimately retracted for further rumination. The following snippet from Jonathan Swift's Gulliver's Travels is something resurrected from a saved draft. I have a theory that collectively we have a stack of things to worry about, be it terrorism, Yellowstone exploding, global warming, global thermonuclear war, etc. Every now and then we start to worry about killer comets and we're treated to a Michael Bay production or something similar. I'm beginning to think that when that happens it's a good sign, that it's the point where we've nearly popped the top off our collective worry stack. After all, people have been worrying about killer comets for an awful long time. At least since 1726...

"These people are under continual disquietudes, never enjoying a minutes peace of mind; and their disturbances proceed from causes which very little affect the rest of mortals. Their apprehensions arise from several changes they dread in the celestial bodies: for instance, that the earth, by the continual approaches of the sun towards it, must, in course of time, be absorbed, or swallowed up; that the face of the sun, will, by degrees, be encrusted with its own effluvia, and give no more light to the world; that the earth very narrowly escaped a brush from the tail of the last comet, which would have infallibly reduced it to ashes; and that the next, which they have calculated for one-and-thirty years hence, will probably destroy us. For if, in its perihelion, it should approach within a certain degree of the sun (as by their calculations they have reason to dread) it will receive a degree of heat ten thousand times more intense than that of red hot glowing iron, and in its absence from the sun, carry a blazing tail ten hundred thousand and fourteen miles long, through which, if the earth should pass at the distance of one hundred thousand miles from the nucleus, or main body of the comet, it must in its passage be set on fire, and reduced to ashes: that the sun, daily spending its rays without any nutriment to supply them, will at last be wholly consumed and annihilated; which must be attended with the destruction of this earth, and of all the planets that receive their light from it.They are so perpetually alarmed with the apprehensions of these, and the like impending dangers, that they can neither sleep quietly in their beds, nor have any relish for the common pleasures and amusements of life. When they meet an acquaintance in the morning, the first question is about the sun’s health, how he looked at his setting and rising, and what hopes they have to avoid the stroke of the approaching comet. This conversation they are apt to run into with the same temper that boys discover in delighting to hear terrible stories of spirits and hobgoblins, which they greedily listen to, and dare not go to bed for fear." -- Gulliver's Travels, Chapter 2


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