We're an addicted society, or at the very least a society prone to addiction. The signs are everywhere. In the Seattle area, for instance, a lot of them say Starbucks. You see Dunkin' Donuts too, and Marlboro and Camel, and they even remind us not to forget our daily dose of ESPN or "Survivor" or countless other TV crazes.
I see people all over the campus, eyes bloodshot but with a death grip on their insulated cups, sipping double-tall, not-too-hot, non-fat, soy, almond, no-whip mocha with two dinky red straws, only about a dollar a hit. I mean sip. Ever heard that tongue-in-cheek joke about there being a Starbucks on every corner in Seattle? That's no joke; I'm from the area. In a suburb near the city, you can practically sip espresso in one caf and lob a snowball into someone else's in another. Even if you miss you'll probably hit a Tully's or Seattle's Best Coffee. I don't know why some Colombians even bother producing cocaine; it's only a matter of time until one of these companies starts offering their top items in bulk with IV bags or in a powder you can snort. People say they like the smell, after all.
The coffee craze is chronic, but at least it doesn't affect me. I'm losing patience day by day with cigarettes. I have nothing against smokers at all, but I have a lot against cigarette smoke where I have to breathe it. Imagine for a moment, if you would, the following scenario: Somewhere outside, say on the steps of a dorm or along a public path, I decide that it would be awfully nice and satisfying for me to inhale a bit of aerosolized asbestos. Maybe it takes the edge off for me and I like the taste, or maybe I'll admit I'm hopelessly addicted and just can't help it. Hopefully no one would mind. But I doubt I'd get that reaction. As a matter of fact there would probably be public outrage. Yet no one really cares about someone unconcernedly puffing on a carcinogen stick on a busy street corner. It doesn't just smell like swamp mud on burnt toast, either. Everyone knows that smoking puts smokers at risk, but second-hand smoke has been classified by the EPA as a Group A carcinogen, responsible for over 3,000 deaths in nonsmokers each year, mostly associated with lung cancer. Compare that to the National Center for Health Statistics' estimate that in 1992 less than 1,000 people were killed by asbestos. Exposures were different to be sure, but the public attitude is nonetheless warped. Go ahead and smoke if you just don't care, but get off the doorsteps in front of buildings where everyone has to walk. Just because you smoke shouldn't mean I have to.
If I could scream at cigarette smoke, I can laugh at the millions who are glued to every NFL game, every free-throw effortlessly missed by Shaq or every drama-laden vote cast by some "survivor" who would doubtlessly drop like a ton of bricks in a matter of hours if actually forced to survive in the African plains. I get a kick out of sports games when I catch them on, and I've clearly seen an episode or two of "Survivor," but I just don't get how anyone can find a TV show consistently enthralling enough to make schedule changes around it. I had a teacher back in high school who summed it up nicely, I think, though I paraphrase here somewhat: "For me, watching sports games is like watching pornography -- I'd rather be doing it than watching it." Coarse, but probably accurate, and I think to some extent it applies to other TV shows as well. Sometimes it seems like people who are addicted to a "real-life" series are a little lacking in the real-life department themselves. I'm sure everyone's seen "The Real World." What a misnomer that is, as though it's real common for seven dysfunctional 20-year-olds who don't know each other to get together in a random city, trying to earn respect for each other while forming political factions against the resident junkie and develop deep friendships while complaining about who leaves the toilet seat up or someone's decision to overfeed the goldfish. It's about as contrived a world as MTV could make. Yet it's the heroin of middle-school girls. Some things I may never understand.
