9:00 AM: The scream of nature

It's a great big world out there, full of violence. Allow me, if I may, to take you on a lengthy monologue.

33 young people are undeservingly dead at the campus of Virginia Tech this week and everyone wants to know why. Well I can't give a satisfactory answer, nobody can. There are three levels. The top level is that one nutty Asian weirdo finally snapped and pulled out a glock. The bottom level is that society, sometimes, breeds monsters beyond redemption. The middle is tricky, but I'd suggest that there is a dark side of existence that often manifests itself in this way. Not just in society, but in nature. This is the terrifying and awesome balance of the world.

For in the very same 48-hour span, halfway around the world, 183 people have been killed in a series of bombings in Iraq, the deadliest day in that country since the beginning of the ironically-named "Operation Law and Order" two months ago. Perhaps they ought to mount "Operation Special Victims Unit."

60 years ago today, the British Royal Army detonated 6800 tonnes of explosives in a (seemingly pointless) attempt to destroy the island of Heligoland off of Germany. (Note: At some places, Wikipedia erroneously says it was Cuba, but that doesn't make sense. Een so, I still love Wikipedia.) It was the single largest non-nuclear detonated explosion in human history.

The largest manmade (non-nuclear) explosion recorded was in fact the collision in Halifax Harbour 29.5 years prior to that, which strangely enough involved a mere 2,653 tonnes of explosives; proving once again that it's not what you have, but how you use it (an argument that may be made to those wondering how that psycho could kill so many people with mere handguns.)

I can't say for certain what the largest explosion of all time is, but for my money it would be Krakatoa. For those unaware, Krakatoa was an island in Indonesia that was a hyperactive volcano. Basically, one day in August 1883, it just went off; blam. The explosion could be heard as far away as Perth, Australia and the Mauritius islands (which were across 3000 miles of Indian Ocean.) The shockwaves circled the Earth 7 times (I have no idea what that means.) The eruption had global cataclysmic effects, and when I say global, I bloody well mean it; sea waves heaved from the force as far away as the English channel (across an entire effing continent.) For weeks, months, years afterward, the sky glowed a spectacular red at sunset. Edvard Munch's famous painting, The Scream, is believed to be inspired by the event. To quote the painter, "Suddenly the sky turned blood red ... I stood there shaking with fear and felt an endless scream passing through nature." And he lived in Norway at the time.

The explosion is calculated to be the equivalent of 200 Megatons of TNT, which is 13000 times the yield of Little Boy, the nuke that fell on Hiroshima. That ain't a typo, kids. Thirteen thousand times the force of an atomic bomb. And it was natural.

For some reason, learning all this has brought me to a very measured, very humble frame of mind. I no longer, for now, search for meaning in the depths of the soul of dark deeds, for I cannot even find it in nature. But even that most devastating event passed and left us to be on our way, to continue to live and breathe and thrive. All things, indeed, do pass.

We must find solace wherever we can, I suppose.

Besides, it was not a very interesting day. I handed in my one article, and asked for an extension on the other because my interviewee was detoxing. Go fig. (I've actually been relating that anecdote to everyone I can over the last week, to varying degrees of listener-amusement.)

Keep on rockin
-Always Scotto