The point he was trying to make was that there’s little
conceivable threat of any sort of asteroid extinguishing life on Earth. Whew.
Now I can use my energy to worry about real problems like what kind of cereal to
have. And then, suppose there’s no milk of the 1 or 2% varieties? Do I go with
whole or fat-free? I can only imagine what sort of chaos
would break loose should such an event transpire. All I can say is that I’m not
going to be caught unawares when the rabble pours into
the streets for a nice night of dinner and looting. As I learned from the
classic treatise on the subject of post-apocalyptic life, Max Brooks’s “The
Zombie Survival Guide,” should access to a crossbow be unreasonable, a hot air
balloon will do nicely.
Which acts as a good segue to this next paragraph.
Recently Clark has been host to a sort of symposium on “The End of Things,” a film and lecture series about… the
end of things. Last night I caught a lecture by K. David Harrison of Swarthmore
College on the extinction (and preservation) of language in an increasingly
globalized world. Which is interesting, but so are zombies. I heard on the
grapevine (which, admittedly, is a bit wilted now considering how October it is)
that associate dean Jason Zelesky“The Walking Dead” on the
15th. Perhaps it’s time to consider what all
this end of the world hullabaloo (pardon my French) is actually doing for
society. For those of us almost old enough to properly remember Y2K there’s a
sort of apathy for any theory that the world’s about to end. It’s just run of
the mill disappointment. It’s like, hey, media, you said that the world was
going to end in 2000, but it didn’t, so I’m just going to stand here with my
arms crossed and head tilted slightly to one side and say, “Really? Again with
this apocalypse business?” But most people don’t really believe the world’s
going to end in the near future. Or, if they do, they keep calm and carry on
because what if the world’s not over tomorrow? It’s going
to awfully inconvenient, and probably awkward to come into work on Monday and
pretend like you weren’t recently chanting on a mountain to get beamed up before
the Judgment. “Hey, Steve, how was your weekend?”
“Uneventful.”
Luckily, says Dr. Spahr, the military has various plans
for what to do should impending doom by space rock be
staring humanity in the face. One such is a gravity tractor, which isn’t as
complicated as you’d think. It’s like a big object launched to hang out next to
the asteroid and convince it to pull to one side of the Earth instead of
crashing into it.
“Hey, asteroid, what’s up?”
“Oh, you, know, just goin’ to fall into that planet over
there.”
“Yeah, that’s cool, but I hear there’s this great party
off in deep space just to the side of that planet.”
“Oh, man, I’m in!”
And that’s how science works.
Another option is the nuclear strategy. Apparently,
every time there’s word of an asteroid near Earth the military’s just like,
let’s nuke it! Even if there isn’t a threat, people sometimes want to do it just
to see what happens. (As far as I’m aware, as of this writing, there haven’t
been any nuclear devices launched outside of our atmosphere.) Scientists are
usually the voices of reason to say, no, no; that’s a bad idea. Let’s
not.
The concept of the end of the world is an interesting
and pervasive thing in our culture, and even I’m not immune to its influence,
having just read the first of six parts of Douglas Adams’s “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” on ROCU, in which the
World gets destroyed by aliens to make room for a hyperspace expressway. Listen
in next Wednesday at 9:00 p.m. Eastern to find out what
happens and to, maybe, pick up some tips for your own survival. Do you know
where your towel is?
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