Be good.

It's been a while since I did a book post on a Wednesday, but don't get all happy -- I am not prepared with time or commitment to bring back the Humpback Writers feature. That, of course, never involved writers with hunched backs, but ran on Hump Day, and was and remains the worst name for a book feature online. So no, I'm not doing that right now.

Nevertheless, it is Wednesday, and here's a book. 

The Good Citizen's Handbook: A Guide to Proper Behavior, compiled by Jennifer McKnight-Trontz and published in 2001, is a look back at handbooks from the 1930s to the 1960s, designed to help Americans live healthy, worthy, happy lives. 

The pages inside are not altered from the original handbooks, except for the addition of headers ("A Good Citizen..."). To the credit of the writer and publisher, the book's endnotes have citations for all of the originals, printed in the smallest type you ever saw in your life. 

So let's get to it: What ought a citizen do in order to be a Good Citizen? 

All right! But surely there's more to it than that?

Hmm. Seems a bit familiar, yes? Like everything being shouted at the citizenry in 2020? Not that it's bad advice for avoiding being sick, but it was also our Civic Duty to ruin our lives to save them in 2020. So is this old pamphlet really goofy and out of touch, when it was exactly what we saw four years ago, just with updated clothing on the models?

In fact, while the book looks like it's intended to poke fun at the earnestness and innocence of the past (à la Nick and Nite's "How to Be Swell"), it can't help but shine a light on the aspirations of an America that wanted to be better and safer for all its citizens. 

Better dressed, too. 

I like the "Clean Play" page. The rules of good sportsmanship are the same as they always were. But the last professional sportsman to follow them that I know of was Barry Sanders, who didn't show off or brag when he scored his many touchdowns and show up the other team. These days we tell kids in school not to be dickweeds, but then we behave like dickweeds ourselves everywhere else. More is caught than taught.

Happiness through purpose, friendship, communication, exercise, and faith. This is the precise advice we still from mental health professionals, except that now the “spiritual values” one is always (and I mean always, 100% of the time) illustrated by photo of a young woman meditating in the lotus position.

This book may have been compiled to chuckle at the innocence of the past, but what sane person would not prefer to live in a society where people really do want to strengthen the republic, help one another, and bolster goodwill? "Today good citizenship means less to us," writes McKnight-Trontz in the introduction. "We worry far more about our demons than our duties.... We belong to fewer civic groups, vote less, and spend far more time doing things ourselves, for ourselves. No wonder it feels like everything is going to Hell." And that was written before the invention of the smartphone! 

Of course, the America of the 1930s through the 1960s had all the problems we can imagine -- tragic family trauma, addiction, racism, poverty, corruption, misogyny, war, whatever else you want to add. Despite that it was a high-trust society, especially compared to the current moment. Two-tiered justice systems, handwave treatment of violent criminals, election theft, tribalism, stores locking up goods, institutions run by fools chosen for the shallowest reasons, children being miseducated if educated at all -- this is all part of our new low-trust society. The Good Citizen's Handbook is a window to the past, not as it was but as those living then wished it could be. We don't even have that now. Whenever I see art depicting a hopeful future now it shows a multiculti group of young people, no children or oldsters, dressed like bums, doing no work, and if a white male is in it, he's probably dressed like a woman or a unicorn. The future is dumb.

Sadly, the handbook is out of print, although as I write this McKnight-Trontz has another Chronicle Books title out: How to Be Popular. Which I know I could use. Perhaps then I could learn How to Be Swell. Nick at Nite didn't really help that much. 

Licence to veil.

James Bond's car in Goldfinger was the greatest. Machine guns in front, oil slick, smoke screen, bulletproof shield, tire-slashers, ejector seat -- every other Bond car after that one was just okay, even if it had silly things like an underwater mode, exploding theft prevention, remote control, or invisibility. That Aston Martin D85 was the gold standard.

One of its lesser features, but perhaps the one many of us would want in real life, was the automatic license plate changer. At the push of a button, the plates would change, the identity of the car thus obscured. "Hmm! I was chasing an exceptionally expensive silver sportscar down this country lane, but it had different plates than the one up ahead. I shall look elsewhere for the one I want." Okay, maybe it wasn't the greatest -- but if I'm driving a dull gray Honda and switch the plates, it might keep me from being caught by the law if my car has been tagged as belonging to an undesirable. 

So it's a clever device. This? I'm thinking not so smart. 

I was behind this Dodge with its blackout windows and, at a light, examined its blackout license plate cover. What the hell is this? In the old Hardy Boys days, crooks would just splash mud on the license plate to obscure it and provide plausible deniability if the cops noticed. (It was a trick used in almost every book.) But completely covering the plate?

Apparently in New York you can tint the hell out of the rear window as long as the side mirrors give the driver a clear view of what's behind him. And this guy's rear window looked like it had been painted black. But what about the plate?

Sure enough, smoke-tinted plate covers are a thing--easily found on Amazon and eBay--but there's got to be a catch, right? First of all, what legit reason would make you want to tint your license plate cover? Worried about the glare? It's supposed to have one; maybe other states are different, but in New York the plates are reflective to make them more legible at night. Afraid to damage your precious license plate? Are you kidding? If something hits you that hard, you're going to have much worse trouble than the condition of your plate. Want to preserve your beautiful plate from sun and weather damage? What, and then cover it up so no one can admire its beauty anyway?

Sure enough, the Q&A section of one Amazon seller notes that these covers are illegal to use except on the front vanity plate in a one-plate state (despite the fact that most of these covers are sold in two-packs). So this driver in front of me was totally breaking the law. Why? Probably to avoid paying tolls, as it turns out. He's not a mob hitman; he's just a damn cheapskate.

I have to suppose that this is a wink-wink situation, like all those years that bongs and hookahs were being sold at record shops for "tobacco use." But why wouldn't the police pull over someone for obvious misuse of an obscuring product?

I hate when the government is oppressive, and I hate being pulled over by cops, but were I a policeman, I would pull over any driver with one of these. There's a reason people put up with license plates on their vehicles, and that's because bad actors can cause a lot of harm in an automobile. Someone trying to mask his car is a bad actor or wants to look like one. That's not James Bond driving a Durango in front of me. 

And hell, the way our so-called intelligence community has been acting toward innocent US citizens while letting known wolves go about their business, if it was one of their agents, he ought to get a ticket just on general principles.

Ban all the things!

I got a little taste of what it would be like to be Rip Van Winkle, Buck Rogers, or some other person who wakes up to find things have changed in strange and unexpected ways. 

It happened at a group down at the church, which had been meeting again in person following the Chinese Death Virus Lockdowns. The meetings had resumed for some time, but someone (not me) said, "Hey, instead of everyone bringing his own coffee, why don't we make coffee again like we used to?" It was decided to do a trial balloon by getting a Box o' Joe from Dunkin' (nee Dunkin' Donuts) and some bagels. 

I had nothing to do with any of this except that I had a big wholesale-club carton of Styrofoam coffee cups at home, a remnant of the pre-COVID era, so I figured I'd bring some to the meeting in case we needed some extras. 

That's how I found out I was a strange visitor from the past.

"You must have had these hidden in your basement or something," a friend of mine said.

"Well... yeah, why?"

"Because they're illegal now."

Yes, although New York State has been busy chasing its grotesque governors around, inviting illegal aliens to move in, and watching its wealthy people and businesses flee, it still had time to ban Styrofoam last year. They slipped it in last year when we were all celebrating Christmas, and now I know why I can't find the really good 16-oz. Dart travel cups anymore. Like the plastic bag ban of a few years earlier, this is another way to make life less convenient, less hygienic, more expensive, and more annoying, all in the name of the environment. And now we're using paper and cardboard, which means cutting down more trees. 

I'm a rebel and I'll never
ever be any good

You can't recycle Styrofoam, it's true, but guess what? All our other legally mandated recycling goes in the landfill as well, because nobody wants our garbage. 

But if you've been a reader of this blog, you knew that. 

As an experiment I put some Styrofoam cups in my Amazon basket, because of course you can buy polystyrene cups on Amazon, and got no red flags saying they cannot ship to New York. I'm going to try to smuggle in some of those Dart cups. I think this could be the next great smuggling opportunity in this state, after cigarettes and plastic bags. 

I'll also keep an eye out for the next big ban. The more they make illegal, the more we all become criminals anyway. 

End the recycling madness.

I keep going on about this, not because it's a waste of tax money -- God knows there are plenty and more wasteful projects -- but because it is a Big Lie and we're all complicit in it. Recycling garbage is a waste and should be stopped immediately. 

Why am I on this soapbox once again? After all, my investigative reporting revealed that not one single house in the neighborhood was compliant with the government mandated recycling program, and clearly the supply is contaminated. Well, last week I lurched out of the house on recycling day with my paper, glass, and plastic trash just as the truck came down the block. I stood there as the gentleman with the truck threw my stuff inside, then mashed it down, as such trucks do. And I'm telling you, that truck was just as disgusting as any truck in the fleet. Not only was there no difference between this "recycling" truck and a garbage truck, but it's the same truck. The business that contracts with our town for waste removal isn't even pretending to recycle anything anymore; why should we?

It started small in New York, with a five-cent deposit on soda bottles in the early 80's. This annoyed a lot of people, but others were glad that it got a bunch of broken glass off the street. By the end of the decade we were sorting things into bags for pickup. The Solid Waste Management Act of 1988 required municipalities to recycle various post-consumer materials. And now, because there's no market for the crap, it's all going into landfills. But the state loves it, because every deposit bottle that isn't redeemed is a nickel that goes into the state coffers. Then the "reclaimed" materials goes in the garbage.

Lies, damned lies, and recycling.

And we have to pretend to recycle, and they pretend to do it, and this is a Big Lie that we all conform to. Honestly, has there every been as big a lie in this country, with complicity on every level from the top of the government to the merest citizen? Recycling is an expensive and stupid failure, its fake observation enforced by power of law, and no one at any level of government will admit it and demand we stop it. 

For environmentalists, it's all about wishful thinking, control, and money. The wishful thinking is of a piece with the idea that windmills and solar panels can give us all the energy we need with no drawbacks. The control is getting a supine public into the habit of paying tributes to keep Gaia from destroying us, maybe in the hope that one day there will be a market for this contaminated crap. And money speaks for itself. So real solutions go into the landfill along with the precious bottles and cans and waste paper.

Here in the Hudson Valley, the town of New Windsor contracted in 2017 for a waste-to-energy plant with BioHighTech Global, a plant that would take something we hate (garbage) and turn it into something we love (energy). Two years later the town board got its panties in a twist and said it would impact the environment poorly, so BioHighTech pulled out of the agreement. Good job, town board; now 150,000 tons of garbage a year goes in the landfill, and your energy costs remain sky high. 

Another such project by Taylor Biomass is in the works in Montgomery, a project that has been planned for well over a decade, but it will probably have the cord yanked if Montgomery falls into the hands of Nervous Nellies who genuflect at the altar of environmentalism as well. Or if the environmentalists go after it again with lawfare. 

But they need to remember that getting rid of the project doesn't get rid of the garbage, nor does it make recycling effective. 

Flying pachyderm mandate.

AUGUST 15, 2057 -- This morning California Governor Hedley Skwirm signed into law the so-called Flying Pachyderm Bill, mandating that all elephants in the state of California be required to travel by flying.

"This is a great day not just for California, not just for Californians, not just for elephants, but for everyone who wants to see a flying behemoth," said the governor as xe signed the bill into law. 

The law was passed by the California Senate and Assembly over objections by the three non-Party members in the Assembly, who noted that elephants cannot actually fly or indeed be made to fly.

"Aren't those guys silly!" said Senate leader Biff Barbiekins. "This is why these unaffiliated assemblypersons must be voted out of office, just as they have been silenced on all Internet platforms. Everyone says something is impossible until we pass a law requiring it. Some people see what is and say 'Why?' We see what we want and say 'Why not?'"

According to the new law, any elephant or similar mammal must be able to become airborne under its own power no later than January 1, 2058.

"This will be another example of how the power of our collective will can defeat mere reality," said the governor. "We mandated 110 percent recycling, which required the recycling of 10 percent of landfilled garbage, and it happened. We mandated the end of gas-burning cars for clean electric power and they went away like magic. We said we could house every drug addict, mentally ill person, undocumented worker, and other transient in the world without building one new structure, plus provide free food and medical care, and we have done it. We said our state would consume no more carbon fuel or nuclear power, and we do not. We required a minimum wage of $500 an hour and it became real. Now we've decided it would be great to see elephants fly, and we will make this happen too!"

"All of those laws have been an utter disaster," said one of the assemblypersons we are not allowed to name in this news report, "and we are the laughing stock of a world that's almost as crazy as we are. None of them work and everyone lies. The entire state is delusional." The assemblyperson was then led to xer mandated re-education meeting in an unmarked wind-powered van.

"No doubters, hatemongers, or insurrectionists can defy the power of the people!" said Governer Skwirm in xer passionate closing remarks. Xe then retired to the temporary Governor's Trailer as firefighters continue to try to extinguish Sacramento.

White chocolate supremacy?

Got a case of the Mondays? Tired of all the fighting and fussing in our society? Well, let's start the week off with some candy! And since we're in October, it's finally appropriate to delve into the Halloween loot. 

Mmm, Reese's White Chocolate and Peanut Butter. But wait! What's this "white créme" stuff? I'm sure I saw these on sale last year, but was nothing about white créme, whatever that is. 

Of course, there were lawyers involved. According to an article in Confectionary News from July 22, 2019, "Consumers filed a complaint in the Eastern District of New York last month alleging that the confectioner was knowingly deceiving consumers. The suit alleges that Hershey has engaged in deceptive trade practices, negligent misrepresentation, fraud and unjust enrichment, as well as breach of express and implied warranty." 

Whoa! Sounds serious! What's all the hubbub, bub?

It's all because "the ingredient deck omits cocoa butter -- the key ingredient in real white chocolate -- which the defendants [I think they mean plaintiffs] claim as misleading."

Well, I think we can all draw the same conclusion from this terrible circumstance -- that our country has too many goddamn lawyers with too much goddamn time on their hands. 

Hershey countered that its wrapper did not say White Chocolate; the regular candy was just called "White Reese's" and still is. However, in response to the lawsuit I suppose, they are now specifying that it is "White Créme" and peanut butter. According to Taste of Home magazine, "Even though it technically isn’t white chocolate, it sure does taste the same."

You ask me, the term "white créme" is a little suspicious on its own. Try not to think about it.

Really, who the hell cares? "Real white chocolate"? White chocolate isn't even real chocolate, so what's the issue? With all the things going on, even all the things that were going on a year ago, we had to waste the court's time on this? If the suit had gone forward, would we have seen commercials about it? "If you or a loved one has been exposed to fake white chocolate, you may be entitled to compensation." Then Spencer and Sheehan, the class-action weenies who brought the suit, would get fifty million bucks and the "injured parties" who signed on would each get a coupon good for one (1) Hershey bar. 

It must be said that the Eastern District of New York courts seem to have a lot of time on their hands as well, working on political hit jobs of the president among other stupid things. Might as well get into a candy imbroglio as anything else. 

But enough of that -- let's get to the important stuff. How does the White Reese's pumpkin taste?

I agree with Taste of Home; not one person in a hundred could tell that "white créme" is white chocolate. My wife, who doesn't like white chocolate, wouldn't like this much either. I did, but I have to say that peanut butter doesn't work as well with the white whatever-it-is than with milk chocolate or even dark chocolate. Peanut butter has a strong flavor, and aside from its sweetness, the white stuff has a mild flavor, so the PB overwhelms it. 

I don't care. It was good. So don't try to get me involved in your class-action lawsuits against Hershey's, you blasted ambulance-chasers. It's fine no matter what the company calls it. Happy Halloween.

House of mystery.

There used to be a fellow about my age who walked his big fluffy dog down the street from time to time. She was a sweet dog and I'm pretty sure my XXL dog Tralfaz was in love with her (even though he's been fixed, but boys will be boys), so I always had to make sure my dog was leashed when I saw them coming. Once in a blue moon his teenage daughter would walk the dog instead, but we never spoke.

I did speak with the guy on a few occasions. Or rather, he spoke with me. Very friendly, but one of these people who never stop talking, and I mean never. Stream of consciousness, almost. Never listened, never asked questions. Just rattled off whatever was on his mind, then wished me a good day and off he went. He never told me his name, or the name of dog, or what he did for a living, or any personal details at all. He never asked for mine, either. I only know what house he lived in because I saw him go in with the dog once.

One day he said they were thinking of moving back across the Hudson. Next thing I knew, they were gone. Poof.

The house looks completely empty, nothing on the porch, never any cars around, but there have never been any no for-sale signs. Realtor.com says the house is not for sale, and has not been for sale since it was built in 1998. I also can find no sign of anyone advertising to rent the property out.

I told my wife it could be an FBI safe house. or even more likely, run by the US Marshals for the witness protection program (actually the Witness Security Program). She thinks I'm nuts -- well, she thought that anyway. But it adds up.

We have this image from the entertainment media of people being hidden by the Marshals for years or even decades from the villains who would take horrible revenge on them. ("After we testified against the Verduras mob, our lives are worthless! If El Nabo finds us, it will be a fate worse than kale!") But Mental Floss tells us that the typical stay in the Witness Security Program is no more than six months. Not that they're shuffled back to the scene of the crime; the families are supposed to become self-supporting after half a year.

Well, if the family living here was unable to do that in this neighborhood, that would explain the vanishing act. About the time WITSEC (as the cops call it) told the guy, "You know, we're cutting you off at the end of the month," he would have realized they couldn't afford or just didn't want to stay here and it was time to bug out. So, he dropped hints that he was thinking about leaving, loaded up the suitcases, and left under cover of darkness with their overseer lighting the way. That's my theory.

Either that, or he just up and abandoned the house. But the house hasn't taken on signs of abandonment. Just emptiness. You know the difference. Like, someone is still cutting the grass. Like, someone is stopping in every once in a while to check the pipes and windows.

I'm leaning toward Witness Security. So the next time I see a new family magically appear, I will assume they have dirt on somebody dangerous.

Maybe I should study the faces of the people involved in the Jeffrey Epstein case. I hear he didn't hang himself....

Pull over!

The flashing lights behind you on the highway always make your heart pick up the pace, which seems to create abdominal pressure that causes your stomach to fall to your knees.

But this time I was sure, absolutely certain, I was not doing anything wrong. 

It had been a long afternoon. Among the events, on the other side of the county, and in another state, was a long session of grooming for large family-size dog Tralfaz. His freakout had begun before we even left home, but the power of cheese got him in the car (that being my wife's new SUV -- he won't get into my smaller vehicle) and he panted all the way to the groomer.

Now, hours later, both of us exhausted, the sun down, I drove along the highway toward home. I was maybe two miles over the speed limit, which in New York is considered going slow, but sudden stops are hell on Fazzy, who refuses to ever lie down in the backseat, so it pays to take it easy. And I was following (not too closely) a tractor trailer that was also going a pleasant speed. 

So why the hell was I being pulled over?

Bad Fred, bad Fred, whatcha gonna do?

I carefully drew out my wallet so I wouldn't go grabbing for it when he showed up and think I was going for my gun. My stomach sank a little more, knowing I did not have the registration on me, that it was at home in my wife's purse. I hoped desperately that Tralfaz would behave when the trooper showed up, and that I would remember how to operate the window switch.

And I kept wondering what I had done wrong.

You may have already guessed. I had been driving in the dark with the daytime running lights only, so I had no rear lights. The new car has automatic everything, unlike mine, so I assumed that the lights had gone on; this impression was supported by the fact that we were on a well-lit road and the daytime running lights on this car illuminate really well. I didn't have the lights on Auto; I had them on Off.

The trooper couldn't have been nicer. Didn't even ask to see my license (although I'm sure he ran the plate just in case). I apologized when he explained what happened, and he checked when I got the damn lights on to make sure they worked front and back. He wished us a happy new year and we parted ways.

Tralfaz never made a peep, bless him.

So that was my road adventure, and I'm glad it turned out okay, and didn't involve money and points on my license. But it did remind me to read the manual. These new cars do seem to do everything for you, but relying on this stuff tends to get me in trouble.

Squish the Mets.

Not interested in the All-Star Game, as my beloved Mets are 10 games under .500 and going nowhere, saddled with injuries (as usual), stupid coaching, and criminal ownership. I was surprised to see that a Met (rookie Pete Alonso) won the Home Run Derby on Monday, but that will probably mean a season-ending muscle pull next week. Meanwhile, Real Baseball lost again to Fake Baseball, because the All-Star Game is played under the rules of Fake Baseball.

Never mind all that. I have a Mets mystery to solve. It concerns this:

What the heck?

Doesn't this Japanese soda made by beverage giant Kirin look a little like...

Why, yes it does.

I had never heard of Mets soda, but saw it in passing in a video about the strange Japanese (but I repeat myself) world of vending machines. I sat up. Wha...? The Mets have a soda brand? So I did some digging.

I have read, on a Web site that has just gone defunct so I can't link to it (I blame Trump) (organize and resist!), that the name of Mets soda does come from a baseball team, but not the New York one, or in fact a real one; it comes from the fictional Tokyo Mets, who appeared in a manga that ran from 1972 to 1976. It was called Yakyuukyou no Uta, and this is the summary: "Against her insistence, Yuuki is drafted by the Tokyo Mets as the first woman player in the baseball league."

Maybe the New York Mets should try it. What the hell, we're mired in fourth place.

Anyway, it's not too surprising that the manga creators should have named the team after the Mets, since they would have started work on this title soon after the New York Mets shocked the baseball world by winning the 1969 Series, the first expansion team to do so. And using a team name that way might be considered a non-violation, fair use of a trademark -- which then transferred to the soda.

Okay, so let's say the Mets name is up for grabs; what about that logo?

Generally, the United States and Japan respect each other's trademarks, both being signatories to the Madrid Protocol. (I know, China is too, but I expect better out of Japan.) For all I know, the Mets get a quarter every time the Japanese buy a case of Mets soda. Apparently the Mets soda has been around for a while, so I can't quite believe that the New York organization, greedy as it is, has never heard about it.

Mets cola, also by Kirin, made the headlines seven years ago by claiming to help people lose weight. I guess Mets losing can be a good thing, but I still dislike it.

Meanwhile, closer to home, we have a propane distributor in the northeast that goes by this name:

Hmm... Doesn't that remind you a little of...?

Good thing for the propane guys that the New York Yankees have such a reputation for being kind and generous.

Call today!

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Slidewalk.

We have a local law firm that runs these really cheesy personal injury ads. I'm not going to post the video because they might sue. But I don't have to. If you've lived in the United States since constitutional challenges in the 1970s and 1980s allowed lawyers to advertise, you know what those commercials look like. 

Lawyer [voice over]: Have you suffered injuries? Pain? Injury at work? Contusion? Burn? Do you have cancer? Mesothelioma? Fracture? Ulcer? Bed sores? Concussion? Auto accident? Sports accident? Played with fire? Have you hurt yourself by not reading the manual? Have you suffered a slip and fall? 

[Cheeseball video of some random idiot strolling down a sidewalk, foot on what looks like a microscopic crack; idiot's face in horror as he pretends to fall backward, and yet is somehow shown on the ground nursing a twisted ankle.]

Lawyer: Then call us today. At the law firm of Greef, Sorrel, and Payne, we never stop fighting for YOU. If you've been hurt by anything, we'll get what's coming to you. No fees unless we WIN! Remember, at Greef, Sorrel, and Payne, we'd sue the sun for giving you cancer.

[Lawyers sitting around stuffed into suits, with the name of the firm in large type, their phone number in larger type, and their slogan ("WE'D SUE THE SUN") below that.] 

The preponderance of personal injury lawyers have helped turn us into a people seeking to feed on each other, either terrified of being sued or hungrily looking for a chance to do so. Despite that, though, I have to say that at least where I am, people are pretty casual about how dangerous their sidewalks are in the winter. Maybe all the lawyers live around here. 

We got some ice on Friday, which was made bearable by a light layer of crunchy snow. It was quite navigable on foot, as the snow had plenty of traction. Hardly anyone bothered to shovel or salt. Saturday warmed up and a lot of it melted. And then it refroze. 

Sunday's sidewalks were slick, and treacherous to the two-legged among us. Even worse for the one-legged, I suppose. 

Pictured: Treachery.

The photo is not the sidewalk in front of my house, but mine looked the same. I had expected the melt to continue Saturday, but the clouds kept the sun from really getting the job finished. When I walked baby dog I stayed on the grass, which had not had the same melt/refreeze pattern and still had traction.

I'm not giving out my address, in case Greef & Co. find me. I'll have a mob of idiots practicing their anti-trust falls on my property.

----

Pride Goeth Department: I drafted much of the above after my walk with Nipper yesterday. This morning's iteration of ice is black ice. The schools are delayed two hours. I knew it was bad, but it was worse than I thought; I fell like a sack of lead on the driveway while taking big dog out to do the necessary. Of course, sod's law dictated that my idiot neighbor was outside for exactly that ten-second period. At first that irked me seriously; later I decided that it was all right to give him a cheap laugh, as he has so little pleasure in life.

Hey, I wonder if I can get Greef, Sorrel, and Payne to sue me? I'll be rich!

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It's Easter in January!

No, seriously. I was in the supermarket yesterday (the first day of January, if you're keeping score) and I braced myself to see all the Valentine's Day candy in the seasonal aisle.

I was not prepared for this:

It is January 2. Easter is April 16. Three and a half months away. Have some Easter candy!

Why stop there, supermarket? Why not bring out the dadblasted Halloween candy again? Why not just bring out next year's Christmas candy RIGHT THE HELL NOW?

You know what keeps a society together? It's not the laws or the billion rules made by petty bureaucrats in distant places. It's the unspoken agreements, the things we learn in childhood, most of which come from greater rules for living, some from obvious rational thought, and some from respect that members of healthy societies have for one another.

Don't steal.

Don't lie.

Don't cheat.

Help someone out who's in trouble.

Offer a square deal.

If you throw at the batter's head, expect one of your batters to get it next time.

And don't put holiday themed candy on the shelves three and a half months out!

Haven't people always lied, cheated, put out candy too early? Yes, yes, and no. Of course we know bad behavior exists wherever there are people. But the more we weaken our commonsense rules of civility -- you may call it pushing the envelope or thinking outside the box or being independent -- the more we have to make laws and petty bureaucrat rules and even take up arms to maintain order.

Does that mean putting out Easter candy on January 1 mean chaos is just around the corner? No, but it's a symptom of the same kind of thinking that leads down that path.

Plus, it's just stupid. Anyone seriously want to tell me that a Reese's egg tastes better than a Reese's heart? Because I'm not buying it.

What if we HATE your kids?

I hate this sign in both directions:

From one direction, I hate the fact that this is considered necessary. It's posted on a road with no speed limit visible, which means that the limit is the general town limit of 30. I also happen to know that it's at the bottom of a long stretch with no lights or stop signs, so assholes (bad word alert!) (oops! too late!) like to roar down it at much higher speeds. It's an alternate route to the parallel main road, where cops may often be found. Here, cops are seldom found, but they will put in an appearance once in a while if a resident asks them. So yes, I hate the fact that people drive like lunatics on quiet residential streets.

On the other hand, I hate most of the words on this sign. "Slow" is subjective---to the asshole doing 70, 60 is slow. And does this sign imply that it would be okay for me to drive like Speed Racer on Benzedrine if you hated your children? How about if you are mildly indifferent to your children? And what if you love your children but they've grown up and moved to Fargo. What then?

I dislike it because it's smug, whiny, and passive-aggressive.

Meanwhile, on another street, someone has gone aggressive-aggressive. I couldn't get a picture of the homemade sign, but it says something like "SLOW DOWN! CHILDREN! 20 MPH!"

But that's also a 30 mph zone. You're not allowed to make your own speed limits.

Not sure what else to say about this. Horrible things happen when little kids accidentally go into traffic and cars are going too fast to stop. Horrible things happen when cars are going too fast and drivers lose control. People shouldn't drive too fast. Parents shouldn't let their small children play near traffic unattended. We all want cars. No one wants to drive 5 miles an hour, but that would undoubtedly reduce all auto fatalities.

How about we try this first: Let's just follow the rules and suggestions we were taught when we were trying to get our driver's licenses in the first place. Maybe that would help.

Dude.

Language alert.

This is about the government and pot.

Not as in "a chicken in every".

We live in stupid times. The main question is, are we going to continue to be as stupid as the people who believe they can tell us what to think and how to feel and what to do want us to be.

New York State has now begun its march toward the legalization of marijuana. They don't call it that, of course. The bullshit name is "New York State Medical Marijuana Program." But I think we're all pretty much convinced that "medical marijuana" has been a backdoor means of getting drugs in the house in a legal way in which the greedy state gets a cut.

Yes, I'm totally against medical marijuana. Sure, you can say I'm a heartless bastard who wants people to suffer. Fine. Then answer this:

1) Why isn't Marinol prescribed instead? Marinol is a capsule form of the same active ingredient in weed. No requirement for "medical dispensaries" beyond the pharmacies we use for everything else. I've heard it put forward that it doesn't work as well as puffing the magic dragon. By that logic we should tell Grandma she should be crushing and snorting her Percocet. That works harder and faster, too. The fact is, "medical marijuana" has never been about easing the suffering of the sick. Marinol has been available for more than a decade.

2) Libertarians argue persuasively that we've lost the war on drugs and we would be better off allowing people to go to hell with them if that's what they choose to do; free people can make those choices. This is why I'm not a libertarian. Legalization means approval, and I do not want to condone any more drugs. In twenty years it will be cheaper and easier to legally get pot than to get tobacco in New York, and while you may say pot has medical benefits that tobacco doesn't have, I ask if you'd rather have a surgeon who smokes or tokes.

3) On the topic of tacit approval, people will point out that Prohibition was a failure and equate it to the war on drugs. But alcohol occupies a different place in Western culture than any other drug. Alcohol is a beverage that most adults can consume safely; it was a healthy alternative to choleric (or otherwise unsafe) water; it was used by Jesus in the new Covenant; and bad behavior with wine, for good or ill, goes back to Genesis 9:21. Uprooting it from our culture was always a Herculean, maybe even a Sisyphean, task. Marijuana, by comparison, is an interloper, only felt through the broader culture in the last fifty years. So while our modern scolds are making it harder for a normal man to take a drink, they're going to make it easier for him to be lit up in other ways. This is progress?

4) Marijuana is the drug of idiots. I'm sorry, but it's true, because if they aren't idiots normally, they are with a few applications. I've known many alcoholics who never reached the stage of the morning drink, but few potheads who didn't get to wake-and-bake. Even alcoholics know when alcohol has taken over, whether they admit it or not, but I think that (along with many other things) is less clear to the dedicated bongster.

5) This is not your grandpappy's dope. I'm told that marijuana now is a good deal stronger than it was in the sixties. Like, all we used to have was beer, and now we have whiskey everywhere. Yeah, that will make for a more responsible society.

6) It's harder for cops to tell if the driver they pulled over is stoned than if he is drunk. MADD is already geared up to fight drugged driving. I'm sure we're all happy that legalized pot will give them something to do, since no one drives drunk anymore.

7) People scoff at the idea of pot as a gateway drug, but it has always been connected to the drug culture, which these days includes a tidal wave of heroin that is washing away young men and women and destroying families. Legalizing marijuana is not going to separate it from that.

Back in the sixties, when hippies were a plague let loose upon the land, they said pot was good because it was mellow (no one killed his buddy when stoned, man) and alcohol was bad (squaresville). It was more a tribal thing. But can anyone say with a straight face that having all the pot around since those days has made society happier, more responsible, kinder, or more ambitious?

As medical marijuana has led inexorably to legalized marijuana, legalized marijuana will lead to more bums, broken families, derailed teenagers, weakened and sadder lives.

I've seen drugs and alcohol destroy a lot of people. Getting clean is harder than normal people think. Letting the devil in the window after you throw him out the door does not make him friendlier in the long run.

Dramatic tales from the basket of sales.

Sometimes in the supermarket you see those baskets of items at discount prices, and you wonder what led these apparently normal products off the shelves and into a pile. After all, if they were expected to sell, they'd probably still be on the shelf. I find that at my local Target, that usually means they are seasonal products past their season (Target is big on the pine-smelling soap at Christmas and cotton-candy air fresheners in summer, for example) or are close to or actually past their expiration date. In other stores it may mean the same thing. Or it may mean... something else.

Hello yourself! Looks like a premium brand of toothpaste, albeit with the unusual flavor of "Supermint" (which turned out to be pretty much peppermint, albeit tasty peppermint). It's made by a company called Hello Products of Montclair, New Jersey. What brought this friendly item to the bargain bin?

Procter & Gamble did. The toothpaste (and all other personal care products) titan, owners of Crest, sued, claiming that Hello's 99% Natural claim was false. Hello, seeing itself on the losing end regardless of the validity of P&G's claims, agreed to stop the 99% Natural claim, and gave away about 100,000 tubes so labeled, free of charge. The founder of Hello thanked P&G for "accelerating and amplifying our marketing efforts."

Maybe the store where I got this wasn't supposed to sell it, but return it to the company. I got it for cheap, anyway, but not for free.

You notice that another Hello product, one I did not find in the bargain bin, no longer says "99% Natural":

"Naturally Friendly" is much less of an actionable phrase, isn't it?

There's always a story. Just as every empty storefront has a tale of a broken heart, every bargain-bin dump has a tale of battle and drama. Much as I like Crest, I think P&G was trying to use the courts to smash a potential competitor before it got off the blocks, and just seized on whatever would work.

Hang in there, Hello! You may not really be 99% Natural, but you have very friendly products to look at first thing in the morning! And who doesn't like that?

August is the month of death.

I heard an ad for LegalZoom on the radio yesterday that said that August "is Make-A-Will-Month."

Seems a little morbid, doesn't it? "Hey, you! You playing with the kids in the yard! You with a box of hamburgers ready to grill, dance music on the speaker, guests on the way, pitchers of margaritas! You enjoying your life in the summer! GO MAKE A WILL BECAUSE YOU ARE GOING TO DIE."

We all should have a will, yes, and we're all going to die sometime, but this kind of puts a shroud over the proceedings, doesn't it?

Who decides these things anyway? We have three calendars in the house and none of them say it's Make-A-Will Month. Maybe if I had a complimentary calendar from a law firm it would say that, but ours are from the church (sponsored by a funeral parlor), Boys Town, and a Realtor. The funeral parlor might have wanted to slip MAW Month on---or maybe Buy-A-Casket Month---but perhaps the church wouldn't let them.

The totally unverified (and unverifiable) Holiday Insights site tells us that August is also:

• Admit You're Happy Month
• Family Fun Month
• National Catfish Month
• National Eye Exam Month
• National Golf Month
• Peach Month
• Romance Awareness Month
• Water Quality Month
• National Picnic Month

Who makes this stuff up? I'm sure the Peach Growers' Association or whatever they're called is behind Peach Month, and I could see Congress voting for Water Quality Month or Eye Exam Month or even National Picnic Month. But Romance Awareness Month? We need a month for this? Admit You're Happy Month? I don't even know what that means.

I guess they figure August is as good as any for Make-A-Will Month. If you're together with the kids just before they leave for school, maybe you will think about your will. You wouldn't want to in December; much as the winter's start makes us think about Death, the lawyers would not want to try to compete with St. Nick. January could be good, though. Spring would be a terrible time for Make-A-Will Month.

No, I'm thinking it should have been January. You can have a provision in the will that the credit cards from Christmas should be paid out of the estate. So if you die, you don't have to worry about them!

And he's fur-ocious.

These days, even the Easter Bunny finds it advantageous to keep an attorney on retainer.

One for the bats!

A few weeks ago I reported that here in the Hudson Valley, specifically in the wealthy area known as Tuxedo, residents were beating back plans for a casino, and using bats to do the beating---that is, the endangered Indiana Bat, whose bailiwick includes the Tuxedo area. Frankly, I don't know if the Tuxedoans give a hoot (to bring in other nocturnalia) about the Indiana bat, but whatever.

The update is, Orange County---in which Tuxedo proudly sits at the southern tip---has been denied any of the new casinos that the state ballot initiative permitted. According to the Times, three proposals were accepted, in Schenectady, the borscht belt, and the Finger Lakes. The story notes, and a friend of mine who is a local reporter confirmed, that because Orange County is close to the city, it was seen as a threat the existing and proposed gambling parlors of Yonkers and Sullivan County.

I think the state made the right call, and the Indiana bat didn't have much to do with the decision, although the threat of lawsuits over the little fellow likely made the prospect of a casino here more expensive.

As I wrote in that earlier entry, I dislike casinos and find they do nothing for the areas in which they are dumped; further, industry experts describe the Northeast as "saturated" (according to the Times story) with gambling already.

Hasn't proven great in Atlantic City lately.

The whole casino thing is a big stupid mistake, all ginned up to try to extract money from losers at the tables and slots, funnel it through the casinos by taxes, and give more money to the government of New York State, which, when it comes to money, cannot spend it slowly or wisely.

Whenever the state government does make a decent decision I have to assume it was pure luck. And luck is what we have had here in New York, for a long time. But that luck is running out. We've eaten the seed corn; we're licking the husks. Gambling does not bring in a single dollar to the community; it just expropriates it from one part and moves it to another (with a cut for the out-of-state casino operator, by the way) (in fact, I believe the main winner in the casino stakes in New York is an out-of-the-country operator).

In other news, New York just voted to outlaw fracking, meaning there's no chance we'll get in on all the petrodollars that are making other states the envy of the nation.

Good job, New York! Good-bye, wealth!

(Anyone know a good Realtor in North Dakota?)