Forbidden pleasures

Reader’s Digest, that éminence grise of American family magazines, reminds us in a recent article that no matter how much money you have, no matter how many times you’ve been re-elected and caught napping in your Congressional seat and no matter how often you’ve partied at Mar-a-Lago, there are a bunch of places on the planet where your presence is strictly verboten. A big NO TRESPASS. No can go. Don’t bother showing up.

And let’s be clear: It’s not because you have the wrong last name, wear cheap deodorant, or don’t wear any deodorant at all. It’s because you’re human, and along with eight billion other Earthlings share a reputation for committing occasional acts of stupidity that could get you in trouble if you set foot in those spots.

So, what do I mean by ‘reputation for occasional stupidity?’ Well, I suppose another way to describe it would be, oh, I don’t know … unintended brainlessness. OK, here’s an example. It takes a huge dose of mindlessness to confuse a tube of Preparation H^© for toothpaste, and yet we’ve all done it, right? I’m sorry, what? (pause) None of you? Wow. (deep breath) Well, as you might imagine, now I’m reluctant to bring up the Spam^© incident – except to say I should have known it would never fit in there. Let’s move on.

One locale cited by the magazine as a place where vulnerable humans are not allowed is Ilha da Queimada Grande in Brazil, also known as Snake Island. Apparently, it’s crawling with deadly golden lanceheads, a viper whose venom is so toxic it melts human flesh. Reason enough, I’d say, to prohibit its appearance in the local travel guide.

Fort Knox, America’s gold depot and the most heavily guarded spot on Earth (read guns), also earns a gigantic No Trespassing sign. The only way you’re allowed in is if you’re filming a James Bond movie.

We’re all banned, as well, from the Tomb of Qin Shi Huang, China’s first emperor. You’ve probably seen pictures of the 8,000 or so terracotta soldiers lined up in rows and columns in the emperor’s burial pit, placed there a couple of thousand years ago to supposedly protect the guy. You can probably guess why no visitors are allowed in. All it would take is a clumsy tourist with size 12 sneakers to stumble into one of those clay guardians and the whole damn regiment would fall like dominoes.

It’s an intriguing conglomeration of off-limit locales, yes, but even when you add in a couple of other spots mentioned in the article, the collection is woefully incomplete. I feel compelled, then, to advise the editors at Reader’s Digest that, in the interest of extended subscriber safety, several more sites urgently need to be added to their fascinating list of forbidden destinations, beginning with …

The Dark Place Beneath My Upstairs Bathroom Sink

I’m actually afraid to open the doors and look in there. It’s jammed with old brushes and bottles bearing paranormal names, and I swear I can hear things moving around when I’m brushing my teeth. Four plumbing companies have refused to do business with me unless I get a certificate from the CDC.

My Sister-in-law’s Backyard Shed

I’m told it’s perfectly safe to go in for tools and gardening paraphernalia, but if that’s true, why is it secured with 14 combination locks? And why do the double doors keep creaking and bulging every time I walk by?

40 Acres of Swamp Owned By A Friend Who Insists On Calling It ‘Protected Wetland’

The place generates its own foul weather system. I once went for an extended walk on the property and as soon as I hit the line of demarcation where ‘the wetlands’ began (everything beyond that point was dead), the temperature dropped and a thick, odiferous fog blocked out what was otherwise a brilliantly sunny day. I lost one of my shoes when it suddenly sank six inches into the muck and I had to burn the other one when I got back to the house.

Oh, and I’m beginning to think there’s one more place that may qualify as forbidden territory: this humor column.

I never see anybody here.