Mmm, I remember reading this, or a similar article - as well as the recent Time Out feature on 'flooded London' - and experiencing a nanosecond of 'what can we do?' anxiety, flickering through 'oh well, dooooomed' resignation then forgetting about it altogether. I'm not sure where this familiar-to-the-point-of-contempt response comes from - maybe I'm nervously habituated to expect/accommodate the spectre of looming global disaster in the post-911 New American Century, maybe I've always been a hopelessly apathetic sheeple without a bone gun - but, increasingly, I'm finding it difficult to get excited at this sort of pronouncement of impending catastrophe.
The fact that it's delivered with a hint of 'you're fucked, Yurpeens' smugness is neither here nor there. If anything, it actually compounds my sense of shruggy 'if it happens, it happens; if it doesn't, it doesn't' fatalism.
*shrugs*
If it happens, it happens. If it doesn't, it doesn't. |