Like most Americans this morning, I woke up red-eyed, pawing drunkenly around the sheets and pizza crusts for the television remote control in a rush to flick on Facts News and learn the fate of the Pennsylvania miners.
Imagine my unbridled joy when I learned they were all alive and unhurt. Be honest: hands up everyone who thought they were goners.
Thankful and relieved for the families of these nine plucky Pennsylvanian proletariats, I proceeded with my morning ablutions (shower, shave, snip the nose and ear hair, saline gargle, the thing with the ice cube) and readied myself for the long deathride into work. But instead of listening to the Darcy and Pig Morning Talk on the radio, I chose this as a silent time to reflect on how fortunate I am to not have to rely for a living wage on crawling around on my hands and knees in damp holes in the ground with nothing but a flashlight wired to my head to differentiate me from a (giant) naked mole rat.
Is it time for us to ban these dangerous subsurface mines altogether and go the strip mine route instead? Is the "environment" really so important?