"There ought to be a law." We’ve all heard it. Many of us, in a moment of supreme frustration, have said it. By and large, it’s what we spew when we want to put some annoying, intolerable, element of objective reality out of our misery. For a moment, we want some big bad ‘daddy’ to step in and kick some ass for us.
The question we’re going to address in this week’s PIGish seminar is this: Do we really want and/or need MORE laws? Don’t we have all the laws we need, already?
* We have physical laws that govern the nature of the universe in which we live.
* We have immutable laws - like the law of unintended consequences - that make life a thrill a minute.
* We have all those ‘been there, done that’ laws which perceptive pests like ‘Murphy’ wrote to put the banes of our existence into words.
* Even our resident lunatic, the one and only Hambo, has written his own laws.
* The worst laws, the laws that produce the most misery, are the ones perpetrated by the Nanny State.
It’s utterly human to complain ‘there ought to be a law’ in a moment of frustration. We don’t have a problem with that. BUT, we draw the line, when some whining piece of crap goes running to the nearest Elected Tormentor every time objective reality bites him, her, himher or it on the ass.
America wasn’t built by whining asshats, who went running to big Nanny State daddy when life kicks some asshat butt. America wasn’t built by cringing cretins, who demand laws banning hate speech, laws banning ‘indecent’ boob tube shows, laws banning punks who yammer on a cell phone while driving, and laws banning sovereign individuals, who don’t mind customers lighting up a cancer stick in their outpost of capitalism. America was built by those rugged, I solve my own problems, individuals who take on those sources of frustration, personally.
How, you ask, does that work in real life? Good question, front of the class Sparky. Here are a few PIGish solutions to some of life’s thrills, spills and chills.
Offender 1: Nonentities like Kim "My Butt is Bigger Than Jupiter" Kardashian, Dina "Stage Mother From Hell" Lohan, Denise "People Still Want to See Me Naked" Richards, plus assorted other pimples on humanity’s butt, are rewarded for their lack of meaningful talent with their own reality show. There ought to be a law? Nope. There ought to be at least one producer who is willing to ‘just say no’ to no-talent pissants. Since that’s too much to ask, it’s up to you, channel surfer Sparky, to avoid these blights on the cable dial like they’re tainted with ebola.
Offender 2: Television shows, Internet sites, movies, music, and magazines have content that is created by adults, for the use of other adults, but no meaningful steps are taken to keep this out of the hands of ‘children’. There a ought to be a law ‘for the children’? Nope. There ought to be parents, who take the lifelong task for which they volunteered seriously. There ought to be parents, who refuse to repeal the rights of sovereign adult individuals to protect their own, egregiously unsupervised offspring.
Offender 3: A cellidiot asshat is ruining your dinner out, by bellowing details of his boring as hell life into some cellular piece of crap. There ought to be a law? Nope. There ought to be a taser/cattle prod dispenser in every public place. That way, all a rational adult needs to do to restore order, is grab one and zap that fool into a quieter frame of mind. Trust us, watching him twitching on the floor will do wonders for that dining experience.
Offender 4: A woman who is way past ‘old enough to know better’ - we’ll cut her some slack by calling her middle aged - is on a quest to recapture their former, youthful beauty. How? By going out to bars, cruising for some blind drunk stud, armed with high tech hooters and lowrider jeans, that - UGH - exposes her thong undies. There ought to be a law? Nope. There ought to be one dude with the stones to walk up to her and say "Why the f**k don’t you act your damn age, granny."
Offender 5: You’re walking down the street and the punk in front of you has his drawers hanging so damn low that you’re getting a view of his, her, hisher or its personality that only a proctologist could love. There ought to be a law? Nope. There ought to be a rational adult with sense enough to smack the fool on the back of his head and say, "Pull up your f-ing pants, shit for brains."
Offender 6: Your local incarnation of Barney Fife is making life miserable, by writing tickets for j-walking, skateboarding, smoking, or deploying your garbage can a little too early. There ought to be a law outlawing Barney? Nope. There out to be one citizen willing to impound Barney’s bullet, tape it to that damn ticket book, then shove them up Barney’s butt.
Offender 7: Bloated, technically female, wide loads in stretch pants and beer guzzling dudes whose bare brewskie belly has its own zip code are an unrelenting source of eye pollution. There ought to be a law that forces them to slim down, by banning fast food outlets and transfats? Not no, but hell no, although a mandatory burkas for bloated behemoths (male and female) edict is very tempting. There ought to be a critical mass of rational adults, who are willing to let these human hippos burn in the hell they created for themselves.
Offender 8: Celebrities, who want to keep their name recognition high while between gigs, spawn, then pimp out, their newborn offspring, by selling the baby pictures for a 7-figure payday. There ought to be a law? Nope. You need to admit that, by and large, all crying poopers look alike and refuse to shell out that hard earned folding green for the rag featuring those ‘look what I did’ pictures.
[PIGish confession: We won’t get suicidal if Angelina Jolie, Jessica Alba or Christina Aguillera serves up images of her swollen, open for business, sweater puppies.]
Offender 9: Gutless, telemarketing, scumbags tie up your phone, at the most inconvenient time, with pre-recorded crap calls, pitching something you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy. There ought to be a law? Nope. There ought to be some techno geek with ample time on his hands, who strikes it rich with an invention that lets victims of telemarketing abuse nuke the rat bastard’s phone out of commission.
Offender 10: Public employee unions, teachers’ unions and Elected Tormentor fronted political action committees, use your stolen money to browbeat you into letting them steal more of your liberty and/or your rightful property. There out to be a law banning these tax-funded ad campaigns? Nope. There ought to be a taxpayer revolt that introduces them to a character building gut check called UNEMPLOYMENT.
We know you’re thinking, Sparky, and we tend to agree. We freely admit that we barely scratched the surface. For example, Porcus has a long list of ‘there ought to be a law’ candidates. Just for the hell of it, we’ll share a few of them with you:
* Asian drivers - a term he insists is an oxymoron.
* Foreign students who think their shit doesn’t stink, because they’re driving daddy’s Mercedes.
* Korrectniks who want to repeal your right to free speech, because they don’t want to hear what you’re going to say.
* Asshats who won’t shut their mouth during that movie you paid a king’s ransom to go see.
* Starbucks coffee swilling retards who don’t understand the adage ‘a fool and his money are soon parted’.
* Any company whose automated answering blight includes "Press ‘One’ for English".
* Coupon clipping cretins, who clog up the express lane at the supermarket with their fistful of coupons, and a cart crammed with 10 times the mandatory "Ten Items or Less".
* Cable Companies and public utilities, whose ironically named ‘customer service’ clowns act like they’re doing YOU a favor by talking to you about your outage.
* Women who let it all hang out the lowcut blouses, skimpy micro-mini skirts and enough perfume to sink 10 Titanics, then spew drivel about ‘sexual harassment’ if you look at them.
There ought to be a law? Nope, and our attitude won’t change, as long as we have a spine, a full compliment of nads, and enough ammo to keep Old Betsy well fed for a long siege. Life is what it has always been, one damn thing after another. How do you plan to handle it? That’s your call.
Here in the Free State of PIG, we plan to emulate those legendary rugged American individuals, by taking care of life’s speed bumps the old fashioned way, even if it means kicking ass and taking names.
This week's Free State of PIG seminar is done. Class dismissed!
