The End of the World

It looks like I have a readership now (Site Visitors = 1) so I suppose I ought to make my posts a bit nicer now. It shouldn’t be too difficult as I’ve set myself a low standard. In future I’ll take my rage out the guy who sits next to me, the lovely John.*

Today’s topic is the next global epidemic. Is the world on the threshold of a huge flu epidemic, which will kill millions, lay off a third of the workforce and kill the world economy?

The Man thinks so. He saw it on a documentary the other night, and the TV is his god, so it must be true. In fact, he got quite shirty when I laughed off the idea. He wants me to warn my boss and pass on some report from the Commonwealth Bank. My boss is too busy to listen to me telling him about things which are relevant to his job. He’d just get this blank look for a second, then stare at me as if I were an idiot, then carry on doing his e-mails.

The Man is a complete darling, but he’s a fusspot. Which is ok, everyone knows and loves him for it, but I object to him trying to turn me into a fusspot. He gets annoyed when I don’t join in and acts like I’m the Enemy. But for God’s sake. How many epidemic warnings have we had so far that turned out to be rubbish? Every year the flu is supposed to kill half the world. There was SARS. Then there was bird flu (have I got the right order there?) and look what a pathetic bloody flop that was. Obviously, it was tragic for a few people – but what percentage of the world’s population was killed? Something stupidly small, I’m sure. And these are only a couple of examples of supposed super bugs that I can remember off the top of my head. Clearly, pandemics need to get their acts together. I don’t even know why we bother having the word ‘pandemic’. I suppose it slips off the tongue more easily than the phrase ‘slightly contagious disease’.

Now, I don’t want to imply for a minute that I don’t believe a pandemic will eventually strike the human race again. We’ve had them in the past, and now, with overpopulation, aeroplanes, rising global temperatures, global trade, blah blah blah, it’s obvious to me that the next one will be nasty. I’m sure there’ll be one. I’m just not sure it will be within the next six months. It could be, but I don’t think it’s worth stocking up on spam and baked beans just yet. Just like, I don’t doubt global warming, but I don’t think we need to take the streets screaming “The end is here! It is here!” and loot the shops just because Sydney has a few rain showers. We should at least wait for the first few deaths. Or at least, for somebody to get a bit poorly. I mean, seriously.

The Man’s problem is, he loves drama and is living for the day when he gets to be the hero of the Apocalypse. You know the scenario – he’s the only one who saw it coming, and the only one who rises to the occasion while the rest of us fall apart like bewildered toddlers. (Well, it will be him and a few nuts from the lesser populated states of America.) When it finally comes, everything will be right with the Man’s world. Most people will die. Possibly his family, too, which he will suffer with stoic resignation. I will survive…at least I think that’s the plan….but there is still uncertainty as to whether or not deserve to.

Anyway, flu pandemic or not, the End had better not come before next Thursday, because I’m going to see the Paris Opera Ballet in Swan Lake! I’m so excited!

By the way, I just found this: http://www.smh.com.au/news/fashion/go-figure-men-mock-the-smock/2007/06/16/1181414612959.html So I’m not the only one who hates our fashions…


*Name changed to protect his identity.**
**Actually, to protect mine.