This Place Is Dangerous

This is me, dressed as a “wicked temptress”, or as some people call it, “a donut”

What really gets my goat cheese at the candy store is when people call it “dangerous.”  Uh, only if you don’t hold the handrails!

I kid, I kid.  But here’s a typical conversation with a customer:

ME:  Hi!  Today we have a special on cupcakes, buy one, get one free!

CUSTOMER:  Awesome!  Cupcakes!

ME:  And it’s also Happy Hour at the bar, with $3 Coors Light, $5 beer specials and $6 cocktails for the next three hours!

CUSTOMER:  You guys have a BAR?  That’s SO COOL!

ME:  Aaaaaand we have three times as much candy downstairs!  Have fun!

CUSTOMER:  Oh, this place is dangerous!

Dangerous.  Dangerous.  Candy, beer, cupcakes?  I’m pretty sure I just said candy, beer, and cupcakes, and not ninjas, spies, and sharks with frickin’ laser beams.

Unless you can concoct a scenario in which you get realllly rip roarin’ drunk, trip on gumballs and choke on your cupcake, this place is not “dangerous.”  This place is FUN. 

I know that people live in fear of descending into “dangerous” hedonism, but lighten up!  This isn’t Puritanical Salem, nor Victorian England, not even Prohibitionary New York (which didn’t even work very well, if you recall).  Since when is having fun “dangerous”?

Can we please lighten up and stop seeing bad where there’s good?  Can we decriminalize self-enjoyment? 

We only have one life to live, and living in fear of life…that’s dangerous.


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