Bad News Travels Fast

Bad news travels really fast

Writer Douglas Adams once wrote: “nothing travels faster than the speed of light with the possible exception of bad news.” What is it about the human race that loves bad news?
I think it’s somehow coded into our DNA.
Any newspaperman will tell you the best way to sell papers is to have the scoop on some really bad news.
My grandmother loved bad news so much that she had a prescription (her words) to the National Enquirer. Each week when the paper came in the mail, she would start reading it while drinking her morning coffee. They lived in the house next door, so I was usually there for the reading. She would flip through the paper and spend hours recoiling from all the bad news.
"MOM USES SON'S FACE FOR AN ASHTRAY," or,
"MADMAN CUT UP HIS DATE AND PUT HER BODY IN HIS FREEZER," or
“PIT BULL EATS MOBILE HOME”.
I do recall reading at least one upbeat story with a headline that read:
“LEGLESS BOY SOMERSAULTS THREE MILES TO SAVE DAD”
It felt a little weird being so drawn to reading about the misfortune of others, even though the stories seemed far fetched. Mama Watson thought it was strange too, but she kept on renewing her “prescription” to the paper.
In those days, most of the regular news traveled slowly. Of course, we had Walter Cronkite on the evening news, but his news was not sensational, and his reports often made you think. This didn’t get much traction with the bad news junkies.
Sometimes we got our local fixes of bad news from the insurance salesman, the milkman, or the peddler that came through Sloss Hollow. The bad news might be something like, “You know Mr. Smith that lives down there in Praco? Well, he passed away last night,” he would report with a grim look on his face. “Yes he choked on a chicken bone and died in his bed.” This kind of news traveled like wildfire.
West Pratt would be buzzing within minutes. By the time the story got to the edge of the community, the news flash evolved to –A killer rooster as big as a cougar attacked Mr. Smith. The rabid bird had pecked out Mr. Smith’s tongue and both his eyes before dragging his mangled carcass back to the chicken pen.

These days, Fox News, CNN, and the Internet can lay some bad news on you before you have you morning coffee. “Forty people were slashed to death today by a mentally unstable Orangutan cranked up on crystal meth and sweet tea,” the newscaster reports with a gleam in her eyes.

I’ve heard a lot of theories about why we are so fascinated by bad news. Steve Goodman, who is one of my favorite songwriters puts the hay down where the goats can get it, with his song Somebody Else’s Troubles
That's 'cause it ain't hard
To get along with somebody else's troubles,
And they don't make you lose any sleep at night.
Just as long as fate is there bustin' somebody else's bubbles,
Everything's gonna be all right.
Yes, Everything's gonna be all right.