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This is my October contribution to the NWTC Newsletter, What’s Cooking. Since it is October, I saw no harm in a little morbidity.

We’re all gonna die! Someday. That’s an obvious given, a constant, the elemental fact of life with which we will be confronted. One day. That momentous day, in which the age-old question that has plagued mankind subsequent to the onset of sentience is answered—is there a God; is there a spiritual realm in which I will have an awareness of; will I find St. Augustine’s Eternity? The problem is; you won’t be able to tell anyone else the answer. No, that glorious answer belongs to you alone, and all the antecedent arrivals to the hereafter.

The Mayan “Long Count” calendar wraps up a 5,126 year era on 21 December, this year, in a few months, and is supposed by some to mark the end of the world as we know it. How the end comes is anyone’s guess; perhaps it’s a collision with a planet called Nibiru  en route from the star V838 Monoceros;

Monocerotis, from where Nibiru is coming (courtesy of NASA)

or, perhaps it’s a collision with one of a thousand (that we know of) Near Earth Objects (NEO) that are already in the neighborhood. Well, 5000 years doesn’t seem all that significant against the backdrop of a 4.5 billion year-old earth, and the chance of a planetary collision is less likely than me winning the Powerball, and what do a bunch of extinct old Mayan’s know anyway. Therefore, before sinking into the Paranoia of these end-of-the-world scenarios, perhaps we should focus on the more common causes of our material end.

I knew a neurosurgeon where I trained who never drank out of an aluminum can because he thought he’d get Alzheimer’s despite the lack of medical evidence for a causal relationship—but, he is a neurosurgeon, which makes one go…hmmm. After all, Alzheimer’s is the eighth most common cause of death in the U.S., which makes that frosty can of MGD on a blistering summer day behind a fishing pole on a stone beach radiating shimmering waves of heat look less appealing…okay, not really—but then, I’m not a neurosurgeon either. Alright, let’s consider causes  of death one, two and three; heart disease, cancer, and cerebrovascular disease (stroke), which accounted for 60% of all deaths in 2000. Let’s further consider some of the most common causes of cancer; breast, colorectal, endometrial, kidney, ovary, lymphoma, and pancreatic, the first three for which a link to obesity has been firmly established, and the remainder for which there at least seems to be an association.

The sixth most common cause of death is diabetes mellitus of which type II is also strongly associated with obesity. The fifth most common cause of death are unintentional accidents, an example being like going for an innocent bike ride on a beautiful day and suddenly finding yourself launched head-first into space with the overwhelming thought…is this my day? (Ahem…true story—last Memorial Day)

So, it is clear that there’s plenty to be paranoid about, if not fearful, unless you face the thought of death with the equanimity of a saint, unless you are a saint. Not being a saint, I admit to finding myself a few degrees to either side of fearful, depending on the day, my mood, and whether or not I’ve attended church lately. But, if you want to exert a force towards longevity and delay of that momentous day, it is clear where your efforts should be focused—not on avoiding beverages in aluminum cans, but on defeating obesity, given the well-documented link between it and heart disease, diabetes, cancer and stroke; and by only riding your bike on flat grassy fields.

Now all those things seem rather mundane and common (maybe because they are), and much less dramatic than a planet called Nibiru colliding with the earth; but at least they are things we have some control over. Still…I’ve noticed that my exposure to aluminum cans has fallen, and I did notice a particularly bright star in the sky the other night, and I do have a Mossberg 12 gauge leaning in the corner with four shells in the tube, and a pile of nonperishable food in the basement next to my beer-fermenting carboyl for December 21st when the world goes crazy because I’m no saint, and don’t plan on going gentle into that good night.

Mossberg 12 ga.

And you thought I was kidding.