Fluoride or the Fox in the Henhouse

In North Carolina there is a great range of music on the radio from classical to folk to the most avant-garde. An old tune caught my attention the other day. Some of its catchy words won’t let me go, and I think I am starting to know why: “Who broke the lock? Who broke the lock on the henhouse door? Who broke the lock? I don’t know… I’m a-gonna find out before I go… ” I’m thinking, “Someone broke into the henhouse — the place where the eggs are laid, where something of value is produced — presumably to do some damage.” And I began to wonder, “Who broke the lock?” Isn’t that a question for our world?