When Ben Franklin sent his kite and key into a thunder storm a couple hundred years ago, he epitomized man’s fascination with lightning and its surreal effects. He risked personal harm in the name of science, and he should be commended for his noble act.
I share Mr. Franklin’s fascination and curiosity with lightning, so much so that I personally cannot wait for some lightning to strike me with all her bolted glory.
Yeah, that’s right. I want to be struck by lightning. It’s on my list of “things to do” (right above “find rich wife from Harvard”). If you ask me, a lightning bolt is the one thing missing in my life. Well, that and a rich wife from Harvard.
Some of you skeptics, however, may think lightning should not be something one should wish to be struck by — well, you are wrong.
According to the National Weather Service, only 10 percent of people struck by lightning die. That means the other 90 percent don’t die. Those are pretty safe odds for such a “dangerous force of nature,” a title often pinned on innocent young lightning bolts.
Some may look at being struck by lightning as unlucky, but I believe it is quite the contrary. The NWS states only 400 people get struck in the United States every year. That’s 400 out of 300 million. If a lightning bolt suddenly jolts through your bones, you have just become roughly one in a million. It takes a lot of luck to be one in a million. Well, luck and a few long metal rods attached to your back.
To see the luck in lightning, think about all the benefits that come from a poke by a bolt. Not only do those 90 percent survive, but I guarantee they come out of that lightning strike with a whole new respect for life. They gently kiss the very ground they fried on. They treasure every waking moment. Simply put, lightning may kill 10 percent of its victims, but it helps 100 percent see the light. When not taking lives, lightning is busy saving lives.
Along with this newfound respect for life, you will have a great chance of getting an awesome nickname. Instead of your friends greeting you with the monotonous “Hi, Michael,” you could hear an exuberant “Hey, Flash!” the next time a pal sees you. If Flash doesn’t fit your fancy, there are many more fantastic lightning-related names, including Electro, Thunder, Striker, Lightning or Zeus. I will warn you, however, there is a chance you may get a bad nickname, such as Bright, Weird Scar or Burnt.
I’m also certain lightning is the quickest and easiest way to get superpowers (other than radiation exposure, of course). And what best complements an awesome name? Awesome superpowers. Not every survivor of a strike gets special powers, but if a possible result includes the ability to fly or shoot fire out of my hands, I’ll chance it. I may not know anyone who gained superpowers from lightning, but there is no proof it can’t happen, and that’s enough proof for me to think it can happen.
Besides gaining superpowers, I also care about disproving some of the weak theories that exist out there concerning the effects of lightning. Some believe lightning isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, and I need to address those people and their dumb ideas.
Take that questionable theory floating around some Christian-right groups, who assert that a lightning strike will turn you gay. A couple of these groups clarify that lightning turns people “Communist gay,” but that is not widely accepted in the “lightning turns you gay” community. Personally, I’ve never met a homosexual — Communist or otherwise — who became gay from lightning. Call me an agnostic, but I don’t buy it.
Where is your research, Communist Gay Lightning Christian groups? If I were gay and struck, would I turn straight? What if I’m struck twice? Do I go back to straight, or do I become Marxist gay? I need to see some recorded results, people, and if no one else will do the homework, I will. In fact, I embrace the challenge like I embrace flag poles at the tops of barren hills during electrical storms.
Another belief is that lightning is an act of God. No way. For one, I pray to God to strike me with a sweet yellow bolt all the time — if it were truly his call, he would have thrown this dog a bone long ago. Secondly, if God’s tears are rain, what is lightning? His licks? Cosmic bowling is the only possible explanation I’ve heard, but that only explains thunder, unless lightning is the disco ball.
Some also claim lightning starts fires. I’m actually still fact-checking this one, so I’ll have to get back to you. For now, just don’t believe it.
After dispelling these rumors and providing incontrovertible evidence of lightning’s many benefits, I hope you all will welcome lightning, not flee from it. When the next electrical storm passes through Boston, I ask you to join me outside in celebration. It will be easy to spot me — I’ll be the guy wrapped in aluminum foil, tied to a flag pole, holding another flag pole, ready to finally see the light.
Zack Poitras, a junior in the College of Arts and Sciences, is a weekly columnist for The Daily Free Press. He can be reached at [email protected].