Because it's not.
It's not OK. It's not even near OK. It's around the corner 4 miles down the road through the back door at the bottom of the creepy stairs into the musty windowless basement beyond the washer and dryer at the far end with the cobwebs and moldy camping gear above the shelf with the rancid canned meat behind the boxes with unknown contents under a decomposing smooshed rat caught in a trap your grandfather set 2 years ago.
That's how far from OK it is.
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