I have been thinking lately about the root of the problems of the world, such a lofty endeavor and one that allows me to avoid doing the laundry which I personally hold is the root of all my problems.

I have come to the conclusion it all starts with fear – not the clearly identifiable fear of a rocket visibly heading in one’s direction but the vague fear that some kind of rocket exists out there, somewhere, with one’s name on it and the subsequent attempts at avoiding it.

People who face real rockets have a legitimate fear but it appears that those who do not have actual bombs going off in the neighbourhood will seek out a substitute and then marshal a great deal of energy in diffusing the bomb of their creation.  Indeed scientific studies – of which I have no references but trust me they exist – have shown that people who are the least likely to be blown up by a bomb stress about it more than people living in a war zone and if they convince themselves it won’t be a bomb that gets them they’ll come up with something else to pin their fear on.

I share with you, dear readers, an example, whimsical perhaps but, one that I believe illustrates how a fear can mushroom and the fallout lands indiscriminately.

Take the fear of refined sugar.  It’s a killer!  They say (and who are the theys of the world? but that belongs aboard another train of thought).  Some of the theys decide that such products must be removed from the shelves to protect all of mankind from death by Twinkie.  They ratchet up the rhetoric, arm themselves with studies – oh and that infamous Twinkie murderer – march on the Houses of Government and demand the banning of the Twinkie.  It’s good for you!

On the other side of the road are those who like Twinkies.  He (or it could be a she, Twinkies do not discriminate) has no fear of death by anything as benign as a sugary confection and enjoys the treat of synthetic cream filled offerings.  He can easily rationalize that the Twinkie may not kill him and, indeed, can point to studies that he is more likely to die by a lightening strike on the golf course but nobody is demanding golf clubs be banned.  They’re good for you!

Thus the great Twinkie debate is born.  Each side entrenching their positions, shouting louder and louder; one side demands the end of all Twinkies, the other wanting them to become a mandatory dessert.  The nightly news is filled with images of chocolate dreams or monsters.  Books are written.  Someone makes a YouTube Video that gets 5 billion hits.

Stuck in the middle are those who say “who cares”, “why are we wasting our energy on Twinkies when there are much greater issues at hand like who is going to be the next American Idol” or “look the hole in the ozone layer just got bigger and Australia is burning”.

This third voice results in the banding together of the Pro-Twinkies and the Anti-Twinkies pelting the Non-Twinkies and all are left scraping synthetic cream from their faces and spending all their disposable income on dry cleaners.  The dry cleaners, by the way, are the only clear winners in this war of confection.

If one boils down all the sugar it becomes clear that the Twinkie is not the issue; it is the imposition of the other’s passion, be it fear or love, onto another.  Remove the imposition and there is no battle, no innocent bystander wiping chocolate off their chest.

Who knows, remove the anger and self righteousness that is the distilled byproduct of fear and maybe that person who has to deal with real bombs will not have to face them anymore.  Maybe, just maybe, they would have an opportunity to choose whether to eat or not eat a Twinkie.  Frankly I doubt the bombed individuals would care what they eat as long as they were allowed to eat in peace.