Decadence, that’s the only word for it, in my opinion. Too much of my wife’s baklava and coffee in the morning and too many of my wife’s grape jelly and barbecue sauce meatballs and whiskey that night.
Then I stand before the mirror in the morning and complain that I’m only getting fatter. Whose fault is this?
If I allowed the government to regulate my life, they certainly wouldn’t blame me. Nor would they blame all the ingredients in the food prepared by my wife.
They might have something to say about the whiskey or cite yet another study showing coffee is or isn’t good for me. But they’d not blame me.
Instead, they’d want to remove that one common component in my life that all these foods have: my wife. That’s how government works and therefore are not to be trusted with your life or your wife.
But blame me — never.