A little bit of fear goes a long way

If the United States were a college, we would all be majoring in fear. The fear that the immigrant who cuts our lawn might want health care. The fear that this mosquito bite may be the last. The fear that our children might somehow slip the bonds of the elaborate, digital cage we have erected around them -- did someone mention the Disney Mobile Family Locator? -- and manage to have a good time.

Avian flu, which is especially threatening if you happen to be a bird, consumed 10 good months of worry. What about the people who hoarded the medicine Tamiflu? They needn't worry; another panic will come along. Like Eastern equine encephalitis. Some recent scare mongering in this newspaper raised the specter of danger at barbecues and camping trips. Believe me, it's not only in the Globe that this is happening. ''Wild Turkeys Attack Humans in Suburbia" was a recent Wall Street Journal entry in this field. While the story lacked the classic WSJ cop-out line ''statistics are hard to come by," it didn't provide any examples of turkeys actually harming humans. Even though turkeys have any number of ancient grudges pending against our species.

My favorite new worry is the behavior-altering parasite toxoplasma gondii, which is sometimes found in cat droppings. Professor Jaroslav Flegr of Prague's Charles University has observed that men infected with t.g. become antisocial, but also more reflective and better organized. Infected women ''were more easygoing . . . and had a higher level of intelligence," according to Time Out magazine, ''but were also less trustworthy." Flegr wrote that both men and women ''have significantly deteriorated psychomotor performance . . . and are at higher risk for traffic accidents."

Traffic smash-ups? Volvo has been successfully exploiting suburbanites' terror of the world beyond the driveway for years. The sanctimonious Swedes have even formed a ghoulish ''Volvo Saved My Life Club," filled with testimonials from people who really should have taken the bus, e.g.: ''I swerved into oncoming traffic and hit a semi." I'm starting my own affinity group: the ''Your Excessively Armored Volvo Totaled My Honda Club."

While flipping through an upscale magazine, I encountered these words: ''Perhaps You Haven't Prepared for an Impending Accident, But Lexus Has." Lexus was hyping its ''Pre-Collision System." This sounds a lot like the ''precognition" technology popularized in Philip K. Dick's ''Minority Report." If the Lexus knows it's going to be in an accident, why doesn't it just avoid it?

Ah, the terror of small things. I remember enjoying my sons' soccer games; now there's a move afoot to have children play the game with helmets. I also have warm memories of our boys scuttering around the kitchen floor in baby walkers, which were a great delight because the child strengthened his legs while having fun banging into things. The American Academy of Pediatrics believes they should be banned.

Don't drive; don't play soccer; now The New York Times magazine, which never fails to astonish (''Everyone in LA has a pool"), has launched this admonitory headline: ''Forget smoking and drinking. The worst thing you can do to your skin may well be washing it with water."

Yes, I read the Washington Times; want to make something of it? How else could I learn about ''the single most serious national-security challenge" to our country, according to former Pentagon official Frank Gaffney Jr. Might that be Iranian nukes? Al Qaeda back in the cockpit? No, Gaffney and the Times most fear an electromagnetic pulse (EMP) attack using X-rays and gamma rays, ''a unique way for rogue states such as North Korea and Iran . . . to use nuclear weapons in the future." You might remember the EMP weapon Goldeneye, wielded by a Russian terrorist named Xenia Onatopp, in the James Bond movie of the same name. Forewarned is forearmed.

Just last week, I received this press release from a company that makes useful-looking seawalls, hyping hurricane season: ''Forecasters are predicting another strong hurricane season and the possibility for a strike on the Atlantic coast is apparently extremely high." It's not even June, but it's never too early to be afraid. Very afraid.

Alex Beam is a Globe columnist. His e-dress is beam@globe.com.