I feel a bit like Paul Revere these days, on a midnight ride across the Americas and the wider world on a virtual steed, issuing my dire warning to one and all: not that the British are coming, but that cross-dressing is, like, seriously addictive. Hear me, oh people of Earth who enjoy wearing the clothing of the opposite sex—and beware, because this sort of thing can get way out of hand. Today’s caption is only the latest example. Yesterday, I stressed that you might incur female desires along with your womanly attire. Less than two weeks past I warned of how self-feminization can become a dangerous addiction. Last month I showed how easily cross-dressing can lead to the habitual telling of mammoth whoppers (I mean lies, people, not the other kind of mammoth whoppers), and how it can turn your mind into a veritable battleground between your male and female aspects. Add it all up and you have to wonder what’s keeping the CDC (and maybe the FDA) from declaring cross-dressing an activity too dangerous for public consumption. Perhaps in the future the practice will be tightly regulated, with licenses available to those able to prove that they can handle both the physical demands and the mental-health risks. But until that happens, heed my dire warning—indulge in the sweet science at your own risk!