String Cheese- Article Two

This Article May Be Hazardous to Your Health
by Aryn Corley

Warning: This article contains humor, which is known in the state of California to cause amusement. Read at your own risk.

Life is so much better now that we have warning labels to protect us. They’ve been the single most important invention since air freshener. Without these little nuggets of wisdom, we’d be in the next taxicab headed for extinction.
It’s easy to imagine Neanderthal man walking around hitting random stuff with his war club until someone told him, “Ugh.Ugh. [Use only as directed]”
Thus, the warning label was born.
I love them. They remind me of a mother’s kiss. Mom’s kisses made any injury feel better. A kid could have a lawn dart embedded in his skull and only a kiss from momma would make it feel better.
Warning labels make the throbbing ache caused by common sense go away.
In my freezer are a couple of ice packs used for sprained ankles, practical jokes, etc. On the outside of the package, in bold letters, reads, “Not fit for human consumption.”
Had it not been for the warning label, I might have cut open the pack and used it to chill the microwaved poodle I was going to eat.
How about that little packet of sweetener that comes with many electronics? It’s a good thing I put it in my tea because it clearly warns, “Do not eat.”
Cold medicines warn users from operating heavy machinery because it makes people drowsy. Thankfully, one can still operate a chainsaw while being totally bombed on Nyquil. It’s the nighttime, sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, stuffy head, fever, “Woops, I just cut my leg off!” medicine.
I’ve seen many warning labels written in different languages. Apparently, swallowing nickel-cadmium batteries is a global epidemic. If I had paid attention in my Swahili 101 class in college, there would be nothing lost in the translation.
My wife bought a curling iron recently and the instruction booklet had several warnings printed therein. My favorite one was, “For external use only.”
I feel obliged to mention that in order to use a curling iron effectively, one must first master the toaster.
The most disturbing thing about virtually all of these warnings is their insistence about keeping away from children. It’s almost as if they know about children’s insatiable desire to tempt fate. When the Grim Reaper comes to baby sit, that kid better be as far away as possible! I found this same warning on the back of a bottle of baby wash! Luckily, I have a pressure washer with a long wand.
As silly as some of these warnings are, I’m sure they’ve saved thousands of lives. It’s possible the warning label might actually have a negative impact on natural selection. We’re the only species on the planet that allows for survival of the unfit. Take that, Darwin!
It’s too bad there aren’t warning labels for more practical aspects of life.
How cool would it be to be in a store where the sign reads, “Cashier is rude and will probably shortchange you?”
If anything is more deserving of a warning label it’s love. I imagine the label would probably read something like this: Love has been shown to be addictive and may cause harmful side effects such as nausea, diarrhea, blindness, loss of cash, heartburn, and rationalization. If symptoms persist, contact an attorney.
Just think of how easy dating would be. You meet someone and the tag hanging from his or her shirtsleeve reads, “This person gives crummy gifts, doesn’t flush, and is cheap.”
The whole purpose of warning labels is to provide people with helpful and useful information. Sadly, it seems they merely overstate the obvious. A box of rat poison warns, “Harmful is swallowed.” It would be hardly effective as a poison if it weren’t. Generally, if a powder is non-poisonous, it goes on top of spaghetti.
Maybe we’ve evolved to the point that our survival instincts are virtually non-existent. We must be told that there is no lifeguard on duty when we don’t see Pamela Anderson poised to save us. Furthermore, our litigious society demands that caveats be provided to the lower five percent of the population who can’t figure it out.
I think I’ll start a think tank for this elite group of folks.
I’ll call it “DENSA”.