This time there was definitely a woman to blame…

A woman was charged with providing alcohol to a minor recently. When I saw the headline I thought, oh, so someone let their reasonably aged child have a sip. I’ve had sips in my life. And in some countries there are no age limits on alcoholic consumption, assuming that parents know how to raise their own kids, so in my mind, letting a teenager with a fair sense of responsibility have a sip of a slightly boozy drink isn’t as big of a deal as the Puritanical States of America would have the Ad Council lead you to believe. Of course, you still have to obey the law and company policies whether you agree with it or not, so the parents was definitely irresponsible for letting her reasonably aged child have a sip of her alcoholic beverage in a public place. However, this child was not even within driving distance of the city limits where the ballpark of reasonable age is located. This child was two years old.

People often label me as cynical. That’s unfair and inaccurate as it implies that I’m not capable of appreciating a positive experience. I simply choose to see and describe things as they are.

“She didn’t know the typically alcoholic margarita had alcohol in it,” her defense attorney stated. “She believed it was a fruity drink from her native Haiti where they never knew of the existence of alcoholic beverages until Americans invaded their nation and introduced them to vice and sin. And if you believe she totally did not know what she was doing when she poured said beverage into her child’s sippy cup then you’re racist.”

That was not exactly what the defense attorney said. What he did say was that she didn’t know what it was and that she believed it to be similar to a “fruity” beverage. In this instance, I did not attempt to dress it up to make it more acceptable in polite conversation. I just took the frail logic of the original statement and used exaggeration to make a point. This wasn’t cynical, but rather, pointing out how incredibly weak that defense is, especially since a margarita would have been clearly listed among the alcoholic beverages served at the establishment in question.

For the record, if the child had died as a result of the consumption, I wouldn’t even be writing about this. But the child is very much alive, albeit not very well off as a result of the visit to margaritaville and due for a lifetime of problems that a simple reboot won’t fix.

Writing about this does not make me cynical. Certainly my humor can be dark at times, if not warped, but if the defense attorney trying to dumb down the blatant act of child abuse is a more acceptable person than a simple blogger, I have no choice but to file this under failures of humanity.


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