There’s definitely a pandemic. A pandemic of craziness, caused by an acute deficiency of common sense. I see symptoms nearly everywhere I look. Even in one of my kitchen drawers.
This particular drawer is where I stash instruction manuals for my household appliances and thingamajigs. There is some mighty dumb stuff in those manuals, undeniable evidence of the “nanny variant” of the craziness virus that’s spreading through our world.
This variant may have originated in a McDonald’s restaurant in the early ’90s when a lady spilled hot coffee on her lap, sued McDonald’s, and received a multi-million-dollar “happy meal.” Since then, many to-go coffee cups now include a warning for the unaware among us that yes, indeed, coffee is hot. And so it began.
Paranoia swept through the business world and once Captain Obvious was put in charge of warning consumers about every potential hazard, he seemed to go berserk. As one popular social media meme so aptly put it, “Fifty years ago the owner’s manual for a car showed you how to adjust the valves. Today it warns you not to drink the contents of the battery.”
This is fresh on my mind because I recently read the warnings on a package of Vapopad refills for my Vick’s humidifier. Replacing the refills is very simple, but the worried folks at Vicks would like us to be careful about oh, so many things.
They want us, for example, to know it’s not wise to rub these Vapopads on our eyes. If we do, they say we can expect it to feel bad. You know, it never even crossed my mind to rub a eucalyptus-infused pad on my eyes, or on any part of my person, for that matter. Perhaps I lack imagination.
They also warn us not to put Vapopads in the microwave. No mention of my crockpot, Ninja blender, Instapot or electric skillet, though. Just the microwave. Hmmm. Makes me wonder what would happen if I put one in … oh, never mind. I have a column to write.
Microwaved or not, we’re advised that eating a Vapopad is a bad idea. I sure am glad they warned me because I was sorely tempted to tuck one of those pads between my cheek and gum so I could savor all that sweet Vaporub flavor.
After reading the cautions on this box Vapopad refills, I decided to dive into my kitchen-drawer collection of owner’s manuals to see if they contain similarly silly warnings. I was not disappointed.
Among the people who should not use my Shiatsu Shoulder Massager, for example, are “patients with cartilage.” Well, that significantly shrinks the consumer base, doesn’t it? If you don’t have any cartilage, you probably need more than a good massage.
The owner’s manual for my washing machine warns users not to add gasoline to the wash water. Raise your hand if you’ve ever considered that.
And finally, the manual for my oven wisely states that one should never climb inside that appliance. Especially when it’s turned on, I assume.
Dear manufacturers, please stop treating us like imbeciles.
Some may disagree, but I believe God never issues frivolous, unnecessary or insulting warnings. He created us, thoroughly understands us, and only says “don’t do this” when there’s a real danger we might do “this” and it would end badly for us.
Many have abandoned their faith because they felt overburdened by oppressive, man-made religious rules. But Jesus said, “My yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28).
We humans obviously tend to make things heavy (and crazy). But Jesus makes things light and “came so that (we) would have life, and have it abundantly” (John 10:10). And faith in Him is absolutely the most effective vaccine out there for the “craziness virus” and all its variants.