A minha é mais comprida do que a sua

Vale a pena ler o ensaio de Michael Kinsley publicado na New Yorker desta semana, que chegou às bancas hoje. É uma reflexão sobre a vida (e a morte), usando como tema central a nossa obsessão, se é que posso chamar assim, pela longevidade. O título é ótimo "Mine is longer than yours", uma referência do autor à única competição que realmente vale na vida -- e uma brincadeira com o consumismo competitivo do mundo contemporâneo. O texto é longo, mas vale a pena gastar um tempo (ainda mais se considerarmos que custa um clique). Deixo dois parágrafos:

"What’s more, of all the gifts that life and luck can bestow—money, good looks, love, power—longevity is the one that people seem least reluctant to brag about (nota: to brag = vangloriar-se). In fact, they routinely claim it as some sort of virtue—as if living to ninety were primarily the result of hard work or prayer, rather than good genes and never getting run over by a truck. Maybe the possibility that the truck is on your agenda for later this morning makes the bragging acceptable. The longevity game is one that really isn’t over till it’s over.

Between what your parents gave you to start with—genetically or culturally or financially—and pure luck, you play a small role in determining how long you live. And even if you add a few years through your own initiative, by doing all the right things in terms of diet, exercise, sleep, vitamins, and so on, why is that to your moral credit? Extending your own life expectancy is the most selfish motive imaginable for doing anything. Do it, by all means. I do. But for heaven’s sake don’t take a bow and expect applause."