I don't smoke. If I did, I'd like to think the warning labels alerting me to the dangers would give me incentive to quit. In fact, I'm surprised so many people continue to smoke even with the horrific images that some countries print on packets of cigarettes. Some warning labels do, of course, work. The old Mr. Yuck stickers from my childhood immediately come to mind. Seatbelt chimes also work most of the time (more likely because they don't stop beping until you click your belt). Fire alarms, too, typically do their job. Warnings help us to be better prepared for what is to come. If you do smoke, you surely have read that smoking causes cancer, lung disease, and emphysema. It won't help you get better; but, you knew what was coming. Theoretically, you are better prepared to face the consequences.

I don't smoke. I do, however, read. Although I'm not a fast reader, I consider myself a voracious one. I savor the paragraphs I ingest, chewing on each word. I swish sentences around my brain like a sommelier does a 1904 Boudreaux. I especially enjoy reading Smithsonian Magazine and National Geographic. I've come to appreciate several of the regular writers, and I look forward to articles by Abigail Tucker, Richard Conniff, and Joshua Hammer, to name but a few authors. I typically start with the front cover and read each page as I come to it. This builds the suspense since I don't know what's coming next (I generally skip the table of contents to enhance the anticipation). I get a little thrill when I turn the page and see a byline by one of these regular contributors. I know that I'm in for a genuine treat. I settle in and enjoy the journey upon which these wielders of the mighty pen take me.

There is, of course, a downside to this way of reading. I have no warnings. I don't know what's coming or what to expect when I flip the page to go on to the next article. There could be a story about drones that are ready for takeoff on the next page or a piece on Hadrian's Wall. Perhaps there is one about Otters who, apparently, are picky eaters or human edibles like Hanoi's ultimate Pho. There could also be more sinister stories. The biggest problem is there could just as easily be a full-page image of creepy, crawly things—like spiders—that could potentially spark a fit of hysterics in an unsuspecting arachnophobe. It's not a pretty sight when you're sitting on the Metro, reading about tattoos of the world, and you're about to turn the page when suddenly: three seats ahead of you on the left, you hear another passenger utter a blood-curdling scream. At almost the same moment, you see the magazine that the passenger was reading go flying through the air. Just as it crests the arc and begins to descend toward the floor, you catch a glimpse of several enormous, hairy legs. Yes, this poor passenger unsuspectingly turned the page, an innocent enough action, and landed on a life-sized—or worse, larger-than-life-sized—picture of a tarantula.

I don't smoke. But I do read. I have read the warnings on cigarettes that tell me that smoking may result in fetal injury, premature birth, and low birth weight; that cigarette smoke contains carbon monoxide; and that quitting now greatly reduces serious risks to my health. If I can read, and more importantly heed, these warnings, then I believe that like the cigarette industry, the magazine industry should be legally obligated to place warnings on their products as well. Any magazine that contains disturbing images of eight-legged creatures should come with a warning in big, bold letters right on the cover of the magazine that states:

WARNING: This Periodical Contains Images Of Spiders And May Cause The Heebie-Jeebies, Hysteria, Or Possible Fainting.