As you’ve no doubt heard, on August 6th, six miners became trapped underground in a horrible coal mining accident in Utah. The search for these men has been on-going, and while it’s been a long time, many are unwilling to give up hope. I sincerely hope the miners are found alive, and I truly feel for the families. But, if I’m being perfectly honest, I can’t say that I’ve devoted all that much time to thinking about this incident. It may sound callous, but I don’t recall feeling any profound sadness about it, either; in general, I wish it had not happened, and I totally agree that it’s sad and awful, but I won’t pretend that it’s something that provoked strong emotions in me. Perhaps it’s because I don’t know any miners. Maybe my monkeysphere is just too small to allow me to care deeply about it.
In any case, the bottom line is that I feel bad about the mining accident, but I’m not losing any sleep over it. I suspect I’m not the only one who feels this way, though I bet most people aren’t comfortable admitting it. It makes you sound like an uncaring asshole.
The reason I mention this is not to reinforce what an asshole JoseMonkey is, but to contrast it against another story that was recently in the news that did provoke strong emotions in me.
Last week in West Virginia, a dalmatian named Alex got caught in a storm drain and was buried alive. After two days of searching and two days of digging, the dog’s owner was finally able to free him. When I saw this story, I nearly started bawling immediately. Then I watched the video of the man pulling his dog from the hole, and I completely lost it.
I’m not sure what is says about me that I was so thoroughly moved by the dog rescue, yet rather detached and insensate when it comes to the trapped miners. Get this: I know the dog’s name, yet I can’t name any of the six men that are trapped in the mine.
This isn’t the first time I’ve caught myself caring more about animals (generally) and dogs (specifically) more than people. I can watch a film in which endless people are brutally killed without emotion, but if one effing on-screen dog gets hurt, I’m a mess. I find WWII weaponry to be fascinating, but mention a dog mine, and I get really upset. I won’t even watch the cartoon “All Dogs Go To Heaven” because, the way I figure it, I know where that’s heading and I’m not interested!
Does all this make me a jerk? Perhaps. What can I say? JoseMonkey’s just keepin’ it real.