Saturday, mar. 15, 2008 | 0 commentswas watching this show re: dogs (which brings to mind the finite proportions of my micro-life), and they were doing this in-depth thing about the important roll the canine (unit) has played throughout history and different cultures. The show attributed this love of the dog to the fact that man's best friend plays the role of "social lubricant," meaning that people tend to approach, interact and exchange phone numbers with dog owners. Social lubricant. They actually called it that. That phrase has now been coined. The dog show suddenly took on this freaky sinister beastiality air and I had to stop watching.
Confronted with post-television silence, I started "free-stylin'" on the whole idea of social lubricant. I have long been of the opinion that major disasters are a form of social lubricant. After "living" though both the 'frisky quake of '89 and the LA biggie, I can now scientifically state that the BARS ARE FULL after plate techtonics take a city for a spin. Anything over a 6.0 sends the singles scene into a frenzy. I'm sure that one reason for this baby-mouse-like clumping is that mostly people just don't want to be alone for yet another aftershock. When you are blasted awake at 4:30 in the morning by being thrown violently from your bed and onto the floor, you start thinking that maybe dying alone isn't so cute. (Of course, I'm not exactly sure what instinct has to say about dying with a bunch of drunks in a crowded bar.) But I think the real reason everyone feels so social after a collective near death experience is that they finally have a sure-fire topic of conversation. "Where were YOU?...No way, really?...So, can I buy you a beer?" The beauty of the topic is that it leads to so many more: death, history, fate, epic disaster movies.
Of course none of it made a dent in my single status since confronting my own mortality just made me feel sinister and bitter.