It’s like a rash that won’t go away. An extremely minor rash on a non-embarassing part of my body, but a rash nontheless. Maybe in a place I can’t properly reach. It’s not oozing or painful, but it’s there and it irritates occassionally and I can do nothing about it except complain.
Here it is: why does “the news” far more often than not mean “the bad news”?
I understand it. I, like everyone else self-aware enough not to be in denial, will admit to participating in the horrible rubbernecking phenomenon that takes place when passing by the scene of some terrible accident, fire or other awful event. It is a deficit of our species.
The media, thus, being cogs in the engine of consumerism, feed us what we want to see and hear: fire, war, crime, death, destruction. Most of it — a vast majority of it, in fact — has absolutely no impact on my life. Sure, I like to be informed of world events, but honestly, fires in Kuwait, explosions in Russia and kidnappings in Columbia have no effect on my daily life. Knowing about them, on the other hand, cannot be good for my health.
Being constantly bombarded with bad news wilts the soul and weighs heavily on the spirit. In short, it sucks. I’d like to see some blue sky and sunshine, too (metaphorically speaking).
Whew. All that leads to my point: “the news” CAN mean “good news.”
You just need to know where to look.