I’ve been thinking about the avian flu recently, and it’s not for the reason you might expect. I’m not in the least bit afraid of it, which is exactly my concern.
I’ve read all the stories, and how there is the potential to infect vast swaths of society. Chicken sneezes can wipe us off the face of the planet, and it’s no joking matter. People around the world are dying. Sure, we can debate whether it is as serious a threat as it’s being made out to be, or that in comparison to other viruses and diseases, it is a flyspeck on the windshield of what we should be worrying about.
But one point that can’t be argued, and this leads to my real concern, is that no one will ever take seriously something called the “bird flu.”
Striking terror in the masses? More like conjuring up images of a winged fowl hunched over a humidifier with a box of tissue. Ironic would be a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup by his side.
Do sick roosters sound nasal when they crow?
I don’t think death when I hear “bird flu,” and if that is indeed one of the more significant side effects of the virus, then I think it deserves a more aggressive name.
Again, not trying to make light of the situation, but I really do wonder why so little thought these days goes into naming epidemics or pandemics. Shoot, even “pandemic” sounds like a new panda exhibit down at the zoo. Nobody runs screaming from a pandemic. They ask if it’s anything like tiramisu with whipped cream on top.
They used to put some thought into naming sicknesses. Remember the black plague? Any doubt there that you’re in trouble? Of course not. It’s not just a plague, it’s a black one, and we all know what that means. You’re dead and your tongue will probably fall out first.
Scurvy is another one, as is pox. Anyone want a pox? If you ever met a guy on the street named Pox, you’d turn and run the other way! Tetanus and lock jaw? Not invited to dinner.
Tuberculosis? The rule is, if you can’t pronounce it, you don’t want to get it.
These are very clear.
Drug companies understand the importance of naming medicines from a marketing standpoint. They must spend millions coming up with perfect names. Take Viagra, for instance. Much thought went into that, and the word, I suspect, comes from the combination of “virility” (having or exhibiting masculine strength) and the prehistoric word “gra,” which loosely translated means, “Hello, momma, wanna’ come over tonight?”
Brilliantly done. People ran TO Viagra.
It’s all about perception. Shoot, look at movie monsters. Godzilla and King Kong evoke fear and terror. Do you think anyone would have run from Goldie and King Kalamazoo? Of course not.
Volcanoes are named Mount St. Helens and Krakatoa for their power and ferocity. Not Mount St. Wendy and Kitten, which make you want to hug them.
So bird flu has got to go. If we want people to take health disasters seriously, we need to name them accordingly. I’ve said this about hurricanes, too, as Hurricane Sandy doesn’t send people running for the hills.
I think it’s time someone in the federal government creates a new agency called Ministry of Damn-Serious Names. I could head it. I think I would be great. We would look at serious issues like these, study them and suggest more appropriate names for ailments like bird flu. Maybe “chicken scabbies,” “alien avian flesh-eating outbreak” or “bird’s beak beredictitus willkillya.”
Not “bird flu.”
Let’s take the guesswork out of it. Then maybe we will start taking it seriously, and run screaming for the hills to swear off chicken forever like sane, rationale people who don’t overreact.