If We Took Instructions Literally, Civilization Would Collapse by Thursday

We live in a society held together by one fragile, invisible thread: the collective understanding that no one is taking the instructions literally. This is the unspoken covenant of civilization.

You twist the cap, not your hips. You beat the eggs after they are in a container. You pull the tab, not the container the tab is on. The moment even 12% of the population decides to follow label instructions with rigid, courtroom-level precision, the social contract dissolves by Wednesday afternoon, and we’re trading canned beans for safe passage by Thursday.

Let us begin in the most sacred chamber of domestic stability: the bathroom. You’ve seen the label.

-“Twist to Open.”-

It’s printed in a friendly font. It means: rotate the cap counterclockwise. Or for those aged patrons, "lefty loosy, righty tighty"... But what if it didn’t?

Picture this... A husband stands before the sink holding a new bottle of mouthwash. He reads the instructions. He nods solemnly. He places the bottle on the counter. Then, because he is a man of integrity and of honor, he begins to twist. Not the cap. Himself.

Full hip rotation. Shoulder commitment. Knees engaged. A little Chubby Checker energy. He’s doing what the label demands of him. Just then, his wife walks in. There is music. There is eye contact. There is confusion. There is no going back. This is how marriages end up in counseling. And that’s just one bottle!

Consider shampoo: “Lather. Rinse. Repeat.” Repeat what? The entire shower? The entire day? Does he now return to work, clock out, and come home to lather again? Does this become an endless Groundhog Day of hygiene? Has he escaped the time continuum or simply misunderstood Head & Shoulders?

Then there’s toothpaste: “Shake Well Before Using.” Why? Why are we shaking toothpaste like a protein supplement? Is there pulp? Has Crest been hiding something from us? Somewhere in America right now, a man is gripping a tube of mint paste and violently oscillating it like he’s starting a stubborn lawnmower. Foam hits the mirror. The dog is startled. The bathroom becomes a mint-scented crime scene.

And heaven help the soul who reads: “For External Use Only.” What does that mean, Gerald? Does it mean don’t swallow it? Or does it mean you must step outside the house to apply it? Because I promise you, if even a handful of citizens interpret that phrase as “external to the building,” we will have lotion stations forming on sidewalks nationwide. Traffic will halt... Neighbors will avert their eyes, and HOAs will issue public health statements.

Now let us move to the kitchen! A room already operating on a delicate truce between heat and human judgment. The very first recipe you encounter will usually say: “Beat the Eggs.” What level of force are we talking about here? Is this a culinary MMA match? Are we scolding them? Are we filing charges? Is this emotional? Is this physical? I need clarity. Because if we follow this literally, someone is taking out unresolved life frustrations on breakfast.

And what about this classic: “Let it rest.”... The roast is in the oven. It has labored. It has endured. Now we remove it, and we let it rest. Does that mean dim the lights? Apply cucumber slices over the eyes? Lower the volume of Alexa? Put a small blanket over the lasagna? Whisper encouragement? I can hear it now, “Shh... It’s resting. It’s had a trying day.”

And then: “Bring to a rolling boil.” Rolling...? Rolling where? Across the counter? Down the hallway? Through the foyer like an aggressive soup boulder? If instructions are literal, someone is pushing a pot across hardwood flooring while their partner screams, “IT JUST MEANS THE BUBBLES, STEVE!” But Steve is committed to excellence and is willing to go the extra mile for his honey bunny. (yeah, that's a thing, sadly)

Then there’s the humble phrase: “Season to taste.” Do you sprinkle? Or do you lean down and thoughtfully lick the oregano container, like a sommelier of dried herbs? “Hmm. Notes of basil. Undertones of regret...”

Now, let us leave the house. Because this is where society truly fractures. On your car mirror, it says: “Objects in mirror are closer than they appear.” Closer than they appear to whom? To me? To the mirror? To God? What if you read this literally and assume every vehicle is engaged in a stealth approach maneuver? You glance up. A sedan appears distant. The label insists it is nearer. You panic, and you accelerate. You call your mommy...

Now imagine someone reads “Check Engine.” They pop the hood. They lean in. “Hey buddy. You doing okay in there?... Can I get you anything? Sports drink? Kombucha?" This is not maintenance. This is emotional support for machinery. And anyone seeing you do this may call the authorites, so be careful.

And then there’s the classic, that is plastered on almost every entrance way to any business, across the nation. “Pull to Open.” Uhh, ok, which part are we pulling? The handle? The door? The entire establishment? I stretched this morning but I'm fairly certain I ain't going to budge US Bank. Because I assure you, somewhere, a man has wrapped a rope around a grocery store entrance and attached it to his truck in pursuit of literal obedience.

One of his friends is yelling from the parking lot, "Henry....NO...Don't do it man! We can get you the much needed help you deserve!"

“IT SAID PULL.” replies Henry... He will probably not survive cross-examination at the courthouse. Just sayin'...

Let's be honest, public transportation is no safer. “Stand Clear of the Closing Doors.” If taken literally, citizens stand 15 feet away, staring solemnly as the doors perform their ceremonial sealing ritual. No one boards and no one exits. The train runs empty that day, carrying only confusion and a faint sense of misplaced compliance. Or perhaps my favorite: “Mind the Gap.” What does it mean to mind something? To consider it? To supervise it? To counsel it? Suddenly commuters are crouched at train platforms whispering encouragement into narrow spaces. “You’re doing great, Gap. We see you!”

We were never meant to interpret instructions this way. And yet, the warning labels continue. “Keep Out of Reach of Children.” This one is especially dangerous. Because someone, somewhere, has interpreted this as a personal athletic challenge. How high must it go? The roof? The attic? A rented crane? Parents scaling refrigerators like Olympic hopefuls because the bottle demanded height. Duck-taping objects to the ceiling and marveling at their ingenuity.

And corporate disclaimers? They are the thin legal membrane between order and absurdity. “Past performance is not indicative of future results.” Imagine applying this phrase universally. A child brings home a report card. “Dad, I got an A.” Father stares solemnly... “That means nothing.” Wall Street traders whisper it to their goldfish. Marathon runners shouting it at their knees. Bridesmaids say it at weddings in the worst dresses imaginable. “Past performance is not indicative of future results.” That is not a comforting statement, that is existential chaos and the gateway drug to a Xanax...

Or consider snack packaging: “May contain nuts.” May? Or does...? Not will, but may. This indecision is truly mind-numbing. So now we’re interrogating chocolate bars like airport security. “Do you, or do you not, contain nuts? Answer the question, pal, or we are charging you!!" The candy bar remains silent. Suspiciously... This is how paranoia spreads.

And if this literal interpretation epidemic grows unchecked, by Thursday, we will see a full systemic breakdown. Citizens encountering “No Running” signs will freeze mid-stride like malfunctioning mannequins. Drivers at “Yield” signs will begin offering their fealty to the person with the largest vehicle. “After you, good sir/madam.” “No, please... Take anything I have for the good of the kingdom...”

And perhaps the most dangerous of all: “Handle With Care.” What is care, and how much of it is needed? Do we cradle packages? Do we whisper affirmations to Amazon boxes? Do we rock them gently while humming soft melodies? Don't drop the binky! Delivery routes will grind to a halt as drivers develop emotional bonds with bubble wrap.

The truth is this... Civilization does not function because we are brilliant. It functions because we instinctively understand subtext. We recognize that “Twist to Open” is not an invitation to dance battle the mouthwash. We grasp that “Beat the Eggs” is not a legal proceeding. We accept that “Mind the Gap” does not require mentorship. We survive because we collectively agree to interpret language with mercy.

The day we stop doing that, the day we decide every label must be obeyed with courtroom literalism, is the day grocery stores are dragged across parking lots, pasta is tucked in for naps, and half the population is moisturizing exclusively on front lawns. And by Thursday, someone will absolutely be twerking at a shampoo bottle. Which brings us to the final and sobering conclusion.

Perhaps civilization is not held together by laws. Or infrastructure. Or economic systems. Or maybe it's held together by one silent, beautiful understanding: We know what they meant. And as long as we continue knowing what they meant, the trains will run, the eggs will scramble peacefully, and the mouthwash will remain undanced.

Until then, read responsibly. And if you see someone gyrating in the bathroom while holding a plastic bottle, do not judge. They are not foolish. They are simply committed. Or may need to be committed, use your best judgment...

Digital Fortune Cookie of the Week:

"Clarity prevents calamity. Also, don’t season things by licking the container."