I am thoroughly enjoying a rare Saturday morning of self indulgence. A few times a year I make a commitment to my lumpy green sofa and the remote control, for what I refer to as Sloth Day. I am watching a documentary on the 1972 Andes plane crash. I beamed when I saw it as an 8:00 option on my channel line up. I adore survival stories. My favorite survival stories usually involve one or more of the following; farm equipment, humans chomping on other humans, sharks. My pleasure could only be more enhanced if there would have been a malfunctioning feed-grinder aboard that fateful Andes flight. Still, this is a goody. What is it about these movies that I find so appealing? I think it is the same dark impulse that has me endlessly watching Law and Order marathons and reading Jon Krakauer books. I dont like real human suffering. I once saw a jogger getting struck by a car a mere 20 feet from me. The guy looked like one of those failed matadors who is tossed into the air by an antagonized Spanish bull. I didnt like seeing that at all. I wont even read an article if the headline describes some sort of suffering by a child. Yet, give me a gruesome story involving a runaway wood-chipper and you have my full attention. The Andes documentary is ending. Next up; Titanics Achilles Heel. If only those 1912 North Atlantic waters had been warm enough for steely eyed White sharks.
Posted on: Sat, 20 Sep 2014 13:56:43 +0000
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