Karachi, 1957
So we punched all these holes in the world, and now what is escaping through them can’t be stopped. That’s a hazard; you’ve probably heard of Pandora. Mostly, we don’t mind. Most of the platforms stand, most of the day-to-day on them is routine, and most of that which we punched these holes to get goes right where we want it to go. We have at least the illusion of control.
Experts say that the more a crisis is feared, the more a disaster is anticipated, the lower the probability that one will occur. This seems like some kind of voodoo, some mind game played by a perverse universe, but really it is a result of the very practical, even mundane, preparation effect. That is, those who fear catastrophe prepare for one. Emergency plans are crafted and reviewed often. Alarm systems are calibrated and checked often for reliability. Fail-safe equipment is installed, maintained, and monitored. Early signs of potential malfunction are met with swift and effective remedy, averting full-on calamity. Complacency, it turns out, is the accessory to complete catastrophic failure.
The oil that is cascading right now into the Gulf, uncapped, uncontrollable, unwanted, unbelievable in its disastrous persistence, is the same oil we punch holes into the planet to get. We want it bad, and why not? Oil is good. Oil lubricates the wheels of everything. Oil warms and revs. Oil sweetens and smooths. Thou annoinest our heads with oil. Thou preparest a table before us in the presence of our enemies. Our cup runneth over. Shame.
