Read no evil

This morning I picked up the New Yorker and starting reading Atul Gawande’s article on aging. It raised my hackles almost immediately.

First of all, the thing about “the now famous worm C. elegans.” I thought, a worm is famous and I’m not??? That’s NOT FAIR. Plus, they’re going to give a worm that name? Lucky fucker.

Next paragraph: “Research suggests that subjects of the Roman Empire had an average life expectancy of twenty-eight years.”

Do you know how much shit got done in the Roman Empire? And how little I got done in my first 28 years?

Okay, the logic of those two sentences is not the hottest. My point is, those were some productive motherfuckers. Goddamn.

Then,

It happens to power plants, cars, and large organizations. And it happens to us: eventually, one too many joints are damaged, one too many arteries calcify. There are no more backups. We wear down until we can’t wear down anymore.

That did it.

I like you, Atul Gawande. I like the Annals of Medicine. You’re a surgeon, and I like surgeons (kings of Western medicine!). You’re a good writer. But JESUS, you are harshing my mellow.

It’s spring. My morning glories have busted their seeds and broken the dirt and are reaching their blind little heads towards the sun. The dogwoods are blooming, and the park is greener every day, and I have two new pairs of sandals. I’M STILL YOUNG, for fuck’s sake.

I put the magazine down. I walked away.

by Pistol Whip | 29 April 2007 | slit my wrists | Comments