Last summer as my wife and I were strolling down the streets of Stonington, Connecticut, we walked by this telephone pole that oddly had a fire alarm attached to it.  I had never seen one outside before.  It made me think how easy it would be for any punk kid to pull it as a prank, being that this particular street didn’t have heavy traffic or security video cameras.   But I am also fully aware that I at one time was a punk kid who threw stink bombs in the locker areas during break in Junior High and never got caught.  That punk kid from 1994 still tries to give me sneaky/bad ideas sometimes.  Fortunately, I usually don’t listen.

Like today when I was at Starbucks I saw an untouched, colorful cake with the words “Good luck Jared” on it, sitting on a table with napkins, plates, and a knife.  I stepped towards the table in order to cut the first piece, then realized, “Wait, you don’t know that cake is for you to enjoy and even if it is you can’t assume that they’re cool with you taking the inaugural slice.”  Moments later, one of the workers came by, picked up the cake and utensils, and took it to the “employees only” area.  Good thing I didn’t follow my first instinct.

People who ride bicycles on the road alongside cars annoy me.  They have way too much confidence, assuming that most drivers truly are treating them with caution and will cater to them.  I support their love of physical exercise, but they just rub me the wrong way.  Every time I’m driving my car alongside a cyclist, I have to consciously stop myself from wanting to veer over near him.  Not to actually hit him.  Just scare him and shake things up for him.  Then I remember, “Wait, you can’t do that!  That’s mean.  Funny, but mean.”

But these surreal temptations don’t always involve me hurting other people, sometimes they involve me hurting myself.  When I was about 12 years old, I was pouring gasoline through a funnel into the lawn mower.  The heavy fumes hit me.  I remember thinking, “What would happen if I drank some of this?”  I was in a daze for a few minutes.  When I snapped out of hit, I was convinced I really did drink gasoline.  After 30 minutes, I realized I probably didn’t actually drink it because I didn’t feel sick.

I always have the same dangerous thought when I am at the mall walking next to the 4 foot tall glass balcony on the 2^nd floor.  When I look down and see those annoying middle-of-the-isle tent booths selling sunglasses, cell phone jackets, and jewelry cleaners down on the floor below, I am tempted to jump on top of the tent, knowing that surely I can’t be hurt too badly from the semi-cushioned fall.  And knowing I would be doing the general public a favor by eliminating one more potentially obnoxious vendor.

There is a thick line between thinking a destructive thought and actually doing it.

What if our secret, private thoughts constantly popped up on everyone’s computers like the “live feed” on facebook?  We often have such evil, corrupt ideas going through our heads.  But they are kept safe from leaking out into the world, depending on how much common sense we have.