Look around the world and contemplate the whole and every part of it. You may find proof for the existence of some intelligence behind the creation of the universe, but you will also find things that suggest otherwise, such as skydivers, bull riders, motorcycle riders, smokers and those who are promiscuous with conjunctions, as in, “The media keep portraying sharks as savage villains, but .”
In the last 72 hours, beach outings along the Atlantic have again turned lethal: more shark attacks have produced more deaths, this time a man and a boy. And again “Joe Surfer” is trying to quiet the public clamor by explaining that sharks “almost never” attack, and if they do, it is unintentional. Surely the sharks mean no harm. If one swims away with your arm, it is only because it misinterpreted the glimmer of your ring, and, besides, be a sport.
Two nights ago MSNBC interviewed a man with an interesting occupation. His job is to take willing spirits for swims in shark-infested waters so they can feel the thrill. The gentleman thinks all the fuss about shark attacks is slanderous to sharks’ reputations, and, he says: Hey, you are more likely to be struck by lightning twice in the same night than be nibbled by a great white. If that is how we are going to approach things, someone had better call and scold the governor of Hawaii for not capitalizing on a latent tourist attraction: “Free lunch on the lip of Mauna Kea! Free refund if it goes active!”
The world teems with pleasantries such as enchanting forests and breathtaking oceans and all that, but it also teems with ways to die. To the question “Death, where is thy sting?” One can say: everywhere.
Cancer, car accidents, plane crashes, earthquakes, choking on food, food poison-just a few of the infinite and unpredictable catastrophes that kill. So why do people, for a “rush” or a wave play next to creatures that detach appendages and induce massive blood loss?
And for that matter (if I may branch out), why do people ferry themselves to tops of mountains so they can ski in areas sensitive to avalanches? Why do people (again, think of all the ways to injure yourself or die) ride motorcycles, which allows a Mazda Miata to put them in the morgue?
Parachuting into enemy territory during war is reasonable, but except for that, why do people hurl themselves into free falling thousands of feet above the earth? What if the parachute does not open? Why take the risk? Is the plunge to the ground so ceaselessly exhilarating that it is worth dying for?
My dear brother, who is my twin, used to ride bulls, and he is one of the many who wasted a Saturday morning leaping out of an aircraft. My brother thinks I am generally swell, but he also thinks I am a rock on a riverbank, a bystander allowing life’s thrills to pass in front of me. That assessment is fine. (Actually, that is normal; no good brother should be more liberal with praise than with criticism.) Where my brother’s argument weakens is when he says, “Dude, you need to live a little.” To which I have one question: If I keep doing what I am doing (reading, writing, mountain biking, playing golf), and my brother keeps doing what he is doing, who is likely to do more living?
The human impulse to live beyond the mundane is understandable, and humans have a knack for bizarre behavior, but this recent shark business is too much. In the cosmic scheme, our life on earth is so quick it seems that humanity could be more watchful of how it spends its weekends or how it treats its body. It may take some time to find alternative (meaning safer) methods to placate our passion for mortal fun, but that is a lot easier than finding solace from the premature death of a loved one.
In the meantime, if you go to Florida, stay out of the ocean (and for Pete’s sake, do not smoke, or jump out of an airplane, or .). Turn away from the shark-mongering marine biologist, and put aside whether sharks do or do not hunt our beloved species. This is all you need to know:
Those teeth are really sharp.
Matt Emerson is a sophomore studying political science.
