Disclaimers

Disclaimer: this will now be the third semester that I’ll be writing this column for the Daily, but the title is still being misreported. At this point I don’t really even think I can say the title is being “misreported,” since there’s now a year of evidence for the imposter version, but I suppose my original intention is a bit of a mouthful. So, for the time being I’ll permit this injustice to continue. The actual name of this column is "Sugar and Spice and Nothing That’s Nice," but when I submitted that name last year, my (in all other aspects absolutely terrific) editor nodded, gave me the thumbs-up, and proceeded to do away with the second half, all while conveniently failing to mention that the entire punch-line would be cut out when my ridiculously clever and entirely accurate description was shortened to just "Sugar and Spice." I feel the need to bring this to your attention because the current version is -- there’s no other way to say it -- quite bland, and I can’t have you thinking “Sugar and Spice” was the best I could do, because then you’ll think I’m supremely boring and never read this column again.

Anyway, to the point. Let’s face it: we live in a world of disclaimers. I just wrote a pretty lengthy disclaimer just to open a newspaper column, so if the Monday edition of the Daily requires a disclaimer, what doesn’t? We’ve got doctors ordering lab tests left and right just to rule out everything even remotely likely, messages at the bottom of every commercial just to inform viewers that Red Bull does not, in fact, actually give you wings (even though anyone under that delusion probably isn’t old enough to read), and (true story) an entire packet of paperwork to fill out when you attempt to attend a Bikram yoga class. In other words, everyone’s trying to cover their a--.

Disclaimers have become an underlying theme of modern society, because if you don’t put a message in the front of your YouTube stunt video that this should not be tried at home, any idiot could (and probably will) try to replicate your unrivaled athletic prowess, injure themselves in a hideously expensive manner and then sue you for all you’re worth and/or the right to name your firstborn child. But with a simple five-second message added in, idiots will probably still attempt replication and definitely will still injure themselves, but will no longer be able to (successfully) sue you for anything.

Like most of my econometrics reading, what people do for three whole years in law school has always been beyond me, but I suspect that there must be at least a couple of weeks devoted exclusively to the inherent necessity of disclaimers and the delicate art of crafting ones that cover you from any sort of responsibility, even for things like sorting your utensils at Carm (who’s got time for that?) or submitting your column on time (whoops).

If this is your first time reading "Sugar and Spice" (AND "Nothing That’s Nice"), I’ve hopefully convinced you to return every Monday for some more insincere, sugary sweetness and spicy, hot-tempered diatribes (honestly, there’ll probably be much more of the latter). But if you need any more persuading, check back through the Daily archives and notice that I began my first column ever ("Massachusetts Drivers") with a disclaimer -- and if laying the groundwork a year in advance doesn’t impress you, I sure as hell never will; for everyone else, I’ll see you next Monday.