Democracy at gunpoint

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Then, we run into another thing that always seemed to me to be self-evident: that a ‘gift’ offered to someone at gunpoint ceases to be a gift. I mean, I like chocolate; but if someone grabbed me in a dark alley, slammed me up against a wall, put a gun to my head and told me to scarf down one of those giant Cadbury Dairy Milk bars or else he would blow my head off, I would have a hard time working up enough saliva to swallow. Even if I did manage to escape death by choking the thing down, I would probably have to go around back and barf it up the minute he was gone. And when I described the experience afterwards, my first words would not be “Mmm… chocolate.”