Have you ever been warned about something serious and not taken it seriously?

Well according to the label on my office keyboard, one can “reduce the risk of serious injury” by reading the product’s Safety & Comfort Guide.

Really? What serious injury is a keyboard capable of inflicting? We are using our fingers to press keys. I suppose I could mash a key with such velocity that I break my finger. After all, who doesn’t love to throw down a bone-crushing exclamation mark to end a sentence?

But even if this dangerous device broke my finger, it’s not a serious injury. Serious injuries make us freak out. If you’re rapidly typing and your finger comes off, you’ll freak out. Severed fingers are serious injuries. If you’re working outside and a band of squirrels mistakes your fingers for nuts and gnaws them to the bone, that’s a serious injury. Bony fingers suck and will send you to the hospital.

Of course, I’m all for reducing risk. I’ve talked before about my risk aversion and how I don’t seek thrills. But when I sit down at a keyboard, I’m not thinking, “This could be trouble. I should proceed with extreme caution.” I’m not bracing for impact, saying things to myself like, “I need to make sure I don’t die here.” If you are the kind of person looking to reduce your risk at the keyboard, you need to loosen up fast. Maybe take up smoking.

Let’s face it. We’re in a world of regulations and litigation. And when something as innocuous as a keyboard comes with a warning, then probably everything should. From now on I’ll be expecting warnings on my movie tickets (paper cuts), earplugs (clogged canals) and toast (like I need to tell you any of the number of horrible things that can happen with toast).

In fact, I’m going to leave you with a warning to conclude this blog post:

To reduce the risk of serious injury, please do not try reading my blog when you are rock climbing, operating a motorboat, fighting a large man—or large woman for that matter—sword swallowing, lighting dynamite, or pursuing ISIS. Thank you. 

Trick-or-treating may be over, but the journey to a mouthful of cavities is just beginning. No doubt your children and grandchildren have been feasting on various clumps of sugar for more than a solid week now. You’ve probably indulged yourself, bolstering your rightful reign with an oppressive “Daddy tax,” or just plain pilfering the spoils when no one’s watching.

Really, the first week of candy eating is where most of the fun is. The true champions of candy are rapidly consumed, leaving a sad assortment of losers that somehow make it on to store shelves year in and year out but are never, in fact, eaten. These pitiful sweets should be called out for the frauds that they are and save future trick-or-treaters more sadness. Given the countless array of candies, I’ve narrowed the focus on the most popular. Here are the 5 Worst Name-Brand Chocolate Candies: 

Kit Kat- Give me a break, indeed. This candy bar is marketed as heavily as any, yet eternally under-delivers. First of all, thanks for all of that chocolate—not. What a stingy, thin layer of wannabe milk chocolate we get to cover that oh-so-amazing crispy wafer, reminiscent of cardboard and bark. But hey, it’s crispy!

 

Nestle’s Crunch- How about Nestle’s crap? What an embarrassment that the largest food company in the world would produce such an uninspired turd of a candy. Like Kit-Kat with its cheap chocolate taste, it’s really what’s on the inside that counts: crisped rice. Oh what sensational delights rice has given us. Thanks for crispin’ it up at least and saving us from the temptation to dip this thing in soy sauce.

 

Three Musketeers- Ironically named after a triumvirate of heroes, this bar cannot save itself. Three Musketeers has inexplicably found a way to fill chocolate with chocolate and make it taste bad. The fluffy whipped chocolate nougat is unfortunately this candy bar’s heart and soul, serving as a stark reminder that the heart can be deceived and the soul can be damned. Time for the trio to do us a favor and fall on their own swords.

 

Tootsie Rolls- Not to be outdone, Tootsie Rolls join this chocolate charade with their own obscene version. If there is any cocoa tree factoring into the making of this “chocolate,” I’d like to grab the tree by the beans and ask him who the hell he thinks he is. Because he is
no cocoa tree, and this is no chocolate. I’ve never chewed on a brown candle but I can’t imagine it being a much different experience. People have Tootsie Rolls when there is nothing else to have.

 

Whoppers- It’s funny how malted milk balls seem to intrinsically find their way to the bottom of a trick-or-treat pail. They’ve accepted their fate as world’s worst chocolate candy. Given the choice between Whoppers and no candy, people will choose no candy. People would rather not enjoy sweets then suffer a handful of Whoppers. Seriously, they sell these things in a milk carton. Why not sell them in a trash receptacle? That way you could just throw them away once you sober up and realize what you’ve purchased. For that price you could’ve had two King Size Butterfingers yet you opted for great malt balls of hellfire. Yes, milk balls was a bad choice.

Surely I missed something more terrible. What candy do you have left that you refuse to eat?