And We'll Have Fun, Fun, Fun....

Fun. What is this annoying invasion of our peace? I have never been an advocate of fun or a close friend of those who encourage it. While at sports academy in Connecticut I would hide in the mountain caves to avoid those grinning counselors who waded in the junior high sea arranging the next bit of fun. Most of the children liked it. I presume that they did as I was alone in my cave.
"Such stories," you say, "explain far more of you than they do fun."
I must nod and agree.
But fun is something is it not? Why do you call some things fun and others boring?

Fun is the slightly(the more slight the more fun) controlled disarray which measures successfully the borders of the overarching controls in place about you. Why do I say "measures succesfully"? Why did your mother (she who overarched most of your early fun) remind you that if you keep doing "x" you will put your eye out, it'll freeze like that, or you'll regret it all when someone gets hurt? She is measuring just how close you and your friends are to letting the disarray throw you face down in the gravel. After which, she was right, no fun.

In other words, fun is the casting off of the governance which fabricates your very humanity and descends into the gratifying abyss of unreasonable urge, after jotting a quick note to those who remain on watch to keep an eye out. We have so measured fun as a Constitutionally protected right that the great moral action regarding drunkenness is not refraining from getting plowed but the having of a designated driver. The out of control protected by the controlled.

We climb down that ladder to various rungs of fun. A game creates an arena of wild responses within its own close confine of rules. Screaming, gesticulating, falling out of your chair is all allowed but you have to do a certain thing. Games are fun because we know these 'mothers" of our moment are intending that we have fun, run amuck, work up a sweat pantomiming some word for our teammates.
Some fun lovers go further down and find that they can't have fun unless the throbbing music, dim but flashing lights, copious amounts of adult beverage all conspire to give them an event in which nothing of import, wit, or sense is uttered. These clubs are not as good a government as your mother or the game board.
We wish to savor an animal license within the wise confines of a humane liberty. I think such can be a valid grant. Pleasure can be rightly pursued when having a solid wall about you. There is a place for the passions but the degree of passion needs be met by the degree of government which protects it from exposure and vulnerability. Most will want those two things divided into 1) their abandonment to the fun and 2) someone entirely else granting the protection of the fief in which it occurs. Such is naturally expected with children who couldn't govern their own bowel movements or cook their own meals. When older it should be different. The wise man, in his fun, should never allow that it require a second agent to drive him home.