Some-Catastrofuck awareness

Nowadays you just can’t walk a hundred steps without seeing a poster reminding you that life is a bitch and can fuck you over big time at any given moment. The “awareness” media virus has spread all over the First World and has finally made its quick dirty deed of shifting the question from what you can live for to what you can die from.

First there was this cancer awareness, then they rolled out that cancer awareness, and now – guess what? Some-hideous-genital-wart awareness coming soon!

As if it’s not quite enough, they can tell you how possible it is for you to fall under this curse, and even what will be happening to you if you do – in every little detail. Sure it makes an unsuspecting American Idol worshipper more spiritually enriched if he can imagine himself tied to a hospital bed screaming obscenities at the top of his lungs, totally whacked out of his mind on morphine and furiously writhing in pain no amount of opiates will reduce to a bearable level.

Seems intriguing, eh? Join the cult to know more – just go through the initiation ritual of  regular prostate/testicular/cervical/breast cancer checks. And make sure you get to know if you’re going to have Alzheimer’s when you’re 80.

Seriously, now even the shyest people I’ve ever known can freely tell me about their fears of having their private parts rot off. What the actual fuck? How unlucky do they consider themselves? At this level, they can as well worry if an asteroid can fall on them while they’re at home sitting on the couch. I know that things like these actually happen here and there – I’m not that stupid. But when it’s like playing Russian roulette with only one empty chamber, there’s not much worth talking (or even thinking) about, am I right? For God’s sake, leave that to the pros. It’s their task to keep your body – and mind free of that shit.