Whack job

Doing the right thing is just not sexy. The Devil does indeed wear Prada and clothed in a bland robe of coarse character fibre is the “right thing”. Think of doing something wrong and you will fund your pulse racing, pupils dilating and mouth drooling. Sexy stuff. Think of doing something right and your mouth goes dry, your demeanour becomes rigid and your head is inevitably being held in your hand. All the really non-sexy stuff. Eons of psycho-socio-religious conditioning has created a species that is turned on by the wrong (the idea of it). How whack is that?