Big hair bands ruled the airwaves and the bars when I was in my college years in Okinawa, Japan. For me and my fellow Marine Corps friends, the bars were the places to go because at that age there was some inherent urge to alter your normal state of consciousness and live life as if that night was your last. That motive is organic to the age. I've done things others would not, but none of those things was as serious as firing a weapon at someone. If someone made my blood boil, I would usually tell myself that that person is not worth the trouble; that they would get their appropriate punishment at some point, and I would turn and go on with my life. Sometimes, though, I would let my inability to confront get the best of me and I would later become a little destructive. Nothing major, just enough to make me feel better. But afterwards I would feel worse because I damaged someone's property. That story is probably played out today, but now we have people who were obviously brought up with a daring feeling of invulnerability, and without the emotional burden of a conscience. The answer to keeping the thorns away is a moving target. And it may not be possible.
With one exception, the 12-pack or so of people we spoke to about the events (reporter Arthur Mondale and myself,) all said the same thing: the high they get when indulging in the rose, outweighs the risk of getting stuck by the thorns. Or, as the eloquent writer, Neil Peart believes, Danger + Risk = Fun. The amount of danger in an activity, plus the amount of risk you want to put into it, equals the amount of fun you will get out of it.
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