little rooms, big apocalypse

 Well I don't know, what do you think?

I mean the whole point of the blog is to express your opinion.  Surely you have an opinion on this.  I am surprised to see that you are reading the Daily Beast, but this news has been all over the airwaves, so it's kind of like asking somebody what they think of the weather.

One thing about living in a high rise is that you spend a small fraction of your life in a tiny windowless room zipping up or down.  And often you are not the only one in the room.  Depending on who was there first you are either the host or the guest, which doesn't make much difference, maybe it should.  It would be interesting.

Welcome to my room, could I offer you some of these M and M's that have been in the bottom of my coat pocket for a couple days now?

Oh no thanks, I've just had lunch, but I admire what you have done with this place, it looks so minimalist.

Anyway the host generally sets the mood, if he is in a mood he stares straight at the numbers with a gruff look.  Don't tread on me.  Very well then you stare at the numbers also without saying something dumb like, Oh the twenty-seventh floor, I used to have a friend on that floor.  Many times we had long discussions on the role of the church in the late dark ages, see he thought that...

But sometimes the host is in a genial mood and welcomes the guest into his humble abode and so some sort of conversation will have to transpire.

When I first started flying three or four times a year I always tried to strike up a conversation with my seatmate.  Often it was an interesting exchange of places we had been and of ideas that we had, but all too often the other guy had nothing to say and said it at great length for the whole fucking trip.  Nowadays I always have a book and I bury my nose in it the second that my butt hits the seat.  

But the thing about an elevator ride is that it only lasts a fraction of a minute, so even if your fellow traveler is a dud and has nothing to say he will not be saying it too long

So you can feel free to expound, and since somebody is coming out of it and somebody is going into it, the weather is a frequent topic of conversation.  

What a wonderful day is a frequent comment.  And while it is certainly nice to have a wonderful day, it doesn't leave much to say.  You don't want to be a Debbie Downer and mention how the Channel Three weathergirl is calling for thunderstorms for the next few days, so the conversation is pretty limited but in about ten seconds the doors are opening.

Inclement weather is unpleasant, but a little exciting too, so here is a rich topic.  Adventures may be related and you find yourself telling the tale of how when you were ten years old, the winter of 55, you got stuck waiting for a bus which never came so you started off on foot for you house two miles away and then... And then there is a ding and the elevator doors are opening.

It may be permitted if the story is really really exciting, to slip your hand in front of the door and quickly get to the end of your story.  But few stories, especially about us, are as exciting as we think they are, and it's probably best to take your hand away and let your host or your guest be on their way.  You'll see them again, and outside there will always be weather.

When I was in my first year of college everybody in Rhetoric had to write a paper on The Heart of Darkness (The inspiration for Apocalypse Now).  Everywhere freshmen congregated there would be piles of this slim Signet paperback. It's a good story.  This guy is sent by one of those British trading companies to investigate some guy who has apparently gone mad deep up some river.  The first base on the trip everybody is veddy veddy civilized, the military wearing those stiff collars of the day on even on the sweatiest days. Further up the river collars are loosened, people are a little ruder, a little wilder and so it goes all the way up.  The point being civilization is just like a veneer of gold paint over a dark and grotty basalt and the slightest little scrape will reveal the beast within us all.

And that is what is going on with these anti vaxxers.  Eight or maybe a dozen years of education mean nothing when something rubs them raw and the beast within appears.