Rubberneckin' Gene

Wow, I've really been slackin' on my posts. Thank you, Amy Jo, for cracking the whip for me. I've actually thought of several things I wanted to blog, but just can't seem to find the time. But enough whining - on to the good stuff.

First off, I've gotten some really interesting emails lately, and they just go to prove how sad we humans are. I've watched carwrecks, stupid gags and commercials all courtesy of the 'viral video'. I've seen jokes and quizzes (lots of quizzes) and 'friend poetry' to name a few. Some of it is really funny, some sweet and some just really gross. And it's the gross ones that get me. Not just because they make me go "Ugh!", because obviously they would make anyone do that. But also because after the sender goes 'Ugh!' they think "Who can I send this to?"

A few days back a guy I used to sing with sent me a couple of emails. The first one warned me that if I had a weak stomach, that I shouldn't scroll down to the picture. It went on to tell the tale of a man from the Florida everglades and his three dogs, who flushed out an aligator and attacked it. The picture was of the dogs chewing on the gator. What do I do? Out of what I can only call sadistic curiosity, I scrolled down. There they were. Three of the cutest, fluffiest puppies I've seen - all chewing on a stuffed gator toy. Awww! How Cute!

Obviously, when I opened his second email with the same 'gross out' warnings attached, I expected more of the same. HELL NO! Pardon my french, but it was the furthest thing from cute little puppies. It was a news article about a comepetivie weightlifter, who while squatting and straining to lift the massive weights, suffered a prolapsed bowel. The picture accomapanying the article was of the back view- with all the intestines exploded out the rear of his spandex suit. I almost lost it.
It was horrible.
Terrible.
I cringed in pain at just the thought.
I wondered who I should send it to.

See? Did I forward the cute little puppies? No. I forwarded the poor guy with his butt blown to bits. (He lived by the way. I'm not THAT sick.) I can't, however, bring myself to post the image here. According to snopes, it's not a real article, and although Prolapsed Bowel is a real medical condition, they're not sure the picture is real. Looked real enough to me. So if you're really sick, like me (and my friend), then just google it. It's not hard to find.

What is it in our human nature that makes us so fascinated with the terrible? It's like a car wreck. You may feel horrible for those involved, but you'll still slow down and rubberneck. Is it genetically coded within our DNA?

Or maybe you wouldn't - would you?
A.