![]() ![]() But in the privacy of our self-reflection, we can give our tortured public persona a rest and settle down to contemplate humanity’s doom. Yet if our gaze wonders in the direction of harm’s way too long, salvation is at hand so long as we express a suitable level of public moral outrage. Modern sensitivities, not to mention fear of the local woke brigade knocking on the door, sees us adopt a posture of antic recoil if caught looking at the disaster. Perhaps it is this proclivity for worry that so often yields to a certain Schadenfreude we feel, yes, I am roping you in here, to love a good disaster. You worry about yourself, your career, your finances, your future. You worry about your family, your friends, that lovely OAP (old aged pensioner) down the road who looks both so happy and yet so sad, sitting alone in their front room looking out the window. ![]() ![]() If you are anything like me, you worry about the future. ![]()
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