Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Tragedy at sea, part 4

Such tragic proportions have been media fodder for the past weeks. But the point unfortunately has been sorely missed. Passenger and cargo ship capsized in the midst of a raging storm. Wailing families and relatives. But of course company not owing up and look likes never in its history marred already by sinking ships. Survivors turn up in different shores of different provinces. We are awed by stories of resiliency and will. Styrophor turns out to be edible in times of survival. More trapped inside the capsized ship. Typhoon continued to wreak havoc to agriculture and infrastructure. More wailing.

The previous sea mishaps killed more than that of perhaps any earthquake that rocked the country in this millenia. But of course, the whole spectrum of disaster won't be complete without any mudslinging and finger-pointing. Such adeptness at these skills and never at doing our jobs right. Jeez.

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Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family, Choose a f—king big television. Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed-interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose a three piece suit on hire purchased in a range of f—king fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the f—k you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing f—king junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, f—ked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose a future. Choose life . . . But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin’ else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you’ve got heroin?

Renton, Trainspotting