You'll taste the rainbow, and like it

Here follows the only approved manner in which to eat Skittles. 

Tear a corner off of the package so as to be able to control the flow of Skittles. Pour one-third of the package onto the surface of your desk.*

Separate the Skittles by color, then eat in the color order below, according to the following system:

Eat Skittles of the same color two at a time. If there is an odd number of same color Skittles greater than one, then eat same-colored Skittles two at a time until three Skittles remain, then consume the three remaining same-colored Skittles together. If a given pour contains only one Skittle of a given color, eat that Skittle by itself. If a pour contains only three Skittles of a given color, eat them all together.**

Color order: You will consume the green Skittles first. (Alternatively, the green Skittles can be thrown into the trash because they are nasty.***) Eat either the yellow or the orange Skittles second. Eat either the orange or the yellow Skittles third. Eat the purple Skittles fourth. Eat the red Skittles last.

Once you have consumed all the Skittles from the first pour, pour out the second third of the package and repeat. Then complete the same process to consume the remaining third.

Now, I eat Skittles this way because that’s how I like to eat Skittles. But you will eat Skittles this way because it is policy that Skittles will be eaten this way. You cannot be trusted to decide where your children go. You cannot be trusted to decide what your children eat. You cannot be trusted to express your contempt for your local bureaucrats. All this is evident just from today's news. I shudder to contemplate what fits of radical non-conformity tomorrow may bring. So eat your Skittles as you are damn told.

Please know that if you question my Skittles policy I will not engage with you on the genesis of the policy, nor will I discuss its merits. The policy is the policy, as anyone -- particularly groveling left-wing statists -- can tell you, and policies are there to be obeyed.



* This applies to the 2.17 ounce package of Skittles. The 11 ounce family size Skittles is consumed in exactly the same way, but is poured out into 15 sub-portions, rather than three.

** Yes I know. There is an irresolvable contradiction contained in this part of the policy that arises when a given pour contains three and only three Skittles of a given color. Tough. The policy is absolute and you must conform to it perfectly, even where it contradicts itself.

*** Personally I always consume the green Skittles because: 1. Wasting food is a sin; and 2. They enhance my appreciation of the delicious Skittles soon to come. At present, the consumption or discard of the green Skittles is not a matter of policy and Skittle consumers are free to make their own choice in this regard. Yay, liberty!

The law is a ass*

Maryland legislators are considering a new "assault weapon" ban. There's little indication they've given any real consideration to what might constitute an "assault weapon" much less any thought to how their confiscatory exercise in draconian overreaching might survive the inevitable judicial challenge. But that doesn't mean they aren't good for a laugh.

As the official description of the law explains, one of its effects will be to ". . . mak[e] it a misdemeanor to use an assault long gun or a copycat weapon or a magazine that exceeds a certain maximum capacity of rounds of ammunition in the commission of a felony or a crime of violence. . . "

Now, I'm no criminal law pactitioner, but I did moderately well in law school. So I know that in Florida a misdemeanor is, among other things, a crime for which the sentence must be less than one year and which sentence is served in the county jail, not the state penitentiary. Let's assume the same is so in "The Free State."

Then let us for a moment see if we can get inside a the mind of a Maryland legislator. I know: It's dark and cramped and scary in there, but come along with me and try. We know that this legislation must have as its aim the prevention of "another Sandy Hook." Like the PATRIOT Act before them, the odious crop of gun laws now aborning do not rise from of any cosnideration of policy, nor any understanding of causes and effects, nor certainly out of any deference to liberty. No, they spring -- and I do mean spring -- out of nothing more than the spasmodic, irrepressible reflex to to do something.

So I can only suppose that its proponents imagine that the something this bit of the legislation is meant to do would look, in practice, like this:

A mass murdering maniac, having finished his coffee, tidied up the kitchen and printed out a fresh copy of his 348-page manifesto, gathers up his murder tools, including an "assault long gun" and sets off to do mass murder.

On the way, while stopped at a crosswalk, patiently waiting for the pedestrian to clear the intersection, he contemplates his imminent crime and impending fame. In his mind's eye, all is glory and immortality, cloaked in a cloud of gun smoke. He drives the speed limit to the library so that he can timely return his copies of Dostoevsky and Kafka at the convenient drop box outside, thus avoiding a fine for the books' tardy return. As he does so, the distinctive Maryland state flag atop the pole in front of the library flutters gently in the breeze. The killer-to-be is put in mind of the majesty and power of the Maryland General Assembly, an impressive bicameral body of 47 senators in the upper house and 141 representatives in the lower House of Delegates, all selected as much for their Solomonic wisdom as for their selfless devotion to Maryland's citizenry.

But just as the shadow of that flag falls upon him, so does a shadow of doubt dim the brightness of his deranged resolve:

"Wait a minute," thinks our contemporary Kehoe. "If I use this 'assault long gun' to kill the folks in that gun free zone, that will be a misdemeanor. Sure, my plan to silence at last the chorus of angry voices in my head with an offering of the blood of innocents is undeterred by the prospect a couple dozen consecutive life prison terms, or by lethal injection, or by the likelihood I'll be put down by a late-arriving policeman's bullet before any of that.

"No indeed. I am quite mad, after all. And yet, . . ." ponders this suburban Starkweather, this would-be Whitman, " . . .and yet, if I use this 'assault long gun,' I'll be committing a misdemeanor. For that offense I could face as much as 364 days in the Baltimore County Jail."

Whereupon, with a shudder of moral conviction, our fiend pulls into the left lane, waits for the arrow, makes a legal U-turn and heads home at a speed safe for the road conditions, maintaining an assured clear distance from the car in front of him.


Mr. Bumble really is not to be argued with, is he?



*Yes, a ass:

 ". . . What then?"

"Nothing," replied Mr. Brownlow, "except that it remains for us to take care that neither of you is employed in a situation of trust again. You may leave the room."

"I hope," said Mr. Bumble, looking about him with great ruefulness, as Mr. Grimwig disappeared with the two old women: I hope that this unfortunate little circumstance will not deprive me of my parochial office?"

"Indeed it will," replied Mr. Brownlow. "You may make up your mind to that, and think yourself well off besides."

"It was all Mrs. Bumble. She would do it," urged Mr. Bumble; first looking round to ascertain that his partner had left the room.

"That is no excuse," replied Mr. Brownlow. "You were present on the occasion of the destruction of these trinkets, and indeed are the more guilty of the two, in the eye of the law; for the law supposes that your wife acts under your direction."

"If the law supposes that," said Mr. Bumble, squeezing his hat emphatically in both hands, "the law is a ass- a idiot. If that's the eye of the law, the law is a bachelor; and the worst I wish the law is, that his eye may be opened by experience- by experience."

Oliver Twist, Chapter 51, Charles Dickens.

Mirror, mirror.

The exact details aren’t likely to be known – at least not until Mark Bowden or Sebastian Junger writes the book, and Mark Whalberg stars in the movie. The story has changed with nearly every telling, but what you make of that says more about you as a listener than it says about the tellers.

We’ve heard that Usama bin Laden was hiding behind his wife, that he fired on the SEALS, that he was armed but did not fire, that his wife was killed, that his wife was wounded, that his wife was unhurt, that the helo crashed, that the helo was shot down,* that he had no weapon, that he cowered in fear, that he charged in defiance. Chances are all of that is true, at least to someone.

Realty is messy and humans make lousy witnesses. They serve worst of all as witnesses to the events of their own making. The true truth is that a simple trip to the grocery store for bread, eggs and milk involves considerably more detail, randomness and potential chaos than most careful observers can capture with their senses, and tremendously more than almost anyone is capable of accurately reporting to another person. It’s frankly a little demented that we should somehow expect to be able to know the precise details of a close combat engagement in the dead of night on the outskirts of some third-world shithole town of which almost none of us had heard before Sunday night.

What does any of this have to do with the job of your average suburban sheepdog, whose duties are clear and close and mercifully unaffected by considerations of how properly to bury those he has to kill? Just this: Robert’s Rule states that you must “Never act on wishful thinking.”**

This is terribly hard to do. But it is made measurably harder when we get used to giving in to a political culture that trains its inhabitants to surrender facts for feelings, reason for emotions, logic for ideology, persuasion for invective – and to debate, in terms of highest heat and lowest light, the deep meaning of the particular pieces of ignorance they share about a moment of combat they did not witness. You have to resist, lest you be drawn into this way of thinking.

Some of us will believe any story we are told, so long as Glenn Beck or Mike Malloy or Barrack Obama or John Boehner do the telling. Some of us will choose not to believe anything anyone says, content to limit our world and its history and complexities to our own limited field of view and understanding. Plenty of folks, it seems, won’t be satisfied until they see the real time video that made Hillary Clinton stifle a gasp – even though she says she was really covering a cough, and even though if they had it on a flat screen plasma television, with a NavSpecWarDevGru veteran narrating over their shoulder, they STILL wouldn’t know what had really occurred.

But let’s say for just a minute that we could, that there could be some Jumbotron, IMAX documentary that we could all agree showed “what really happened.” You know in your heart of hearts that still wouldn’t be enough. Because where you stand depends on where you sit. Because the folks who make a living out of hating President Obama have columns and commentaries ready to go, excoriating him with equal vigor for withholding the death photos, and for releasing them. Because the folks who make a living supporting the President were similarly prepared to defend everything from UBL being dismembered and ground into hog feed to his imprisonment in the hospital ward of the county jail.

For all the millions of Americans who greeted the news of UBL’s death with the pronouncement that they wish they’d have been the one to pull the trigger, there are that many and more who do pull the trigger, every single day, to murder their vestigial common sense in its squalid crib, lest it crawl out and disturb their pre-conceived notions of who’s a good guy and who’s a bad one. This week’s triumph of American intelligence and tactical prowess has held a mirror up to that as nothing has since . . .  well, last week’s release of a birth certificate.

In the meantime, though, did you hear? They actually captured UBL years ago, and they’ve had him in a cryogenic chamber, so they could stage a pretend raid, thaw him out, shoot him and pretend to bury him at sea when they wanted to divert our attention away from  . . . . um  . . . . hmmm.

What was I saying?



* Indeed, I always find it hard to believe every time a helicopter gets airborne in the first place -- a reaction shared, in my experience, by many men who fly helicopters and nearly all of those who service them. 

** Not, you will note, that wishful thinking is prohibited. To the contrary, it can be fruitful, if only insofar as it serves as a spa day for an overstressed mind. The key is never to ACT on that wishful thinking.

Blocking out the scenery.

Turns out you can ignore everything I’ve been saying. Courtesy of the excellent gun blog Everyday, No Days Off, we have a link to the ultimate answer to the question, “Who you gonna call?" As it turns out, you won’t need to call anyone. And forget all that stuff about the triad of skills, equipment and mindset. Just post a sign.

Indeed, your only responsibility is to somehow choose from a "wide selection of colors, shapes, and messages."

The company's product description explains everything, but before sharing it with you, I'd best post a warning of my own:

STOP

Before reading further, put down now any beverage

you don’t want to shoot through your nose onto your keyboard.

 OK. With that bold and colorful warning in place, we're ready to read on and learn how signs stop crime:

Gun-related crime and accidents are a pressing issue across the country-violence affects us all. A No Weapons Sign and a bold graphic gives a stern warning that violence is not tolerated.* A sign can warn visitors that such activity is illegal, even when you are not there. Protect your grounds with a range of heavy-duty security signs - ideal for a variety of schools, playgrounds, businesses, and other public placed. Send a message to weapon owners: keep your guns at home.

• Promote a serious no-weapons policy on your premises. Don't let the threat of gun incidents or violence undermine the security of your property, or the safety of your patrons.

• A bold red-circle graphic crosses all language borders. A clear sign keeps firearms away.

• A sign is one of the most consistent statements you can make. Signs are hard to ignore, and make your patrons aware of your standards and regulations. 

• Heavy-duty, laminated vinyl and aluminum construction can give you years of security protection.

Well that is all very reassuring, don’t you think? Take that Jared Lougher and Clay Duke.

I'm thinking of running up some signs of my own. Tell me what you think of these:

NO HEART ATTACK ZONE

Heart disease is America's leading killer. But you can protect your family and guests from this scourge with these bold signs. Check out our cancer, diabetes and car crash signs as well. Don't you want your family to be protected?

ENTERING EQUALITY ZONE

NO HATE PERMITTED PAST THIS POINT

Society is a minefield of prejudices, bigotry, sexism, racism, sectarian division, extremism and bad will toward our fellow man. When placed at the entry to your business, school or government office, this sign's strong language and subtle rainbow color scheme will keep all that bad stuff outside.

NORMAL GRAVITY NOT PERMITTED

G-FORCE LIMITED TO ___ WITHIN

Every athlete -- professional, college, high school or club -- wants to perform his or her best. With our customizable G-force signs posted at your your field, arena or stadium, you decide how strong gravity will be on the day of the big game. Signs are available in all sizes and come with enough numbers (decimal points included at no charge!) to allow you to really get home-field advantage. (Increased buoyancy signs available for swimmers.)


*The bold italics are mine. The idiocy is all theirs. As Dave Barry says, i am not making this up.

Mr. Hammer, meet Mr. Nailhead

My friend, Miggy, wields the hammer over at Gun Free Zone.

No good deed.

Julius Caesar contended that "cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once."* At the biggest corporation in the world, that philosophy is slightly revised. There, cowards may die many times before their deaths, but the valiant get terminated.

Just ask Layton, Utah, Walmart employees Gabriel Stewart, Shawn Ray, Lori Poulsen and Justin Richins.

You can read the news story and the police report. In short summary, loss prevention workers Poulsen, Ray and Richins caught a fellow stealing a computer. They stopped him at the door, took him to the loss prevention office and were joined by assistant manager Stewart. Once everyone had crowded into the small room, the shoplifter -- a convicted felon named Trent Allen Longton -- drew a pistol, put it to Stewart's back and demanded to be released.

No one was able to shoot Longton to the ground, since Walmart policy disarms its employees.** So the workers took the thief's gun away from him and sat on him until the police showed up. In terms we've used here before, they acted violently enough soon enough for long enough to end the threat.

They did not panic and decide that they were helpless victims. Nor did they allow this armed criminal to flee into the crowded store it was their job to protect, there to threaten or harm or abduct someone else. That the circumstances seem not to have given them any other real options -- as one employee describes it, there really wasn't anywhere for the four to flee even if they had wished to -- makes their actions no less valiant or correct. Many are those who might not have reacted so well. Not that these four need me to validate them, but given the available descriptions, I'd say their actions were tactically and morally perfect.

And so, you reasonably ask, what was Walmart's reward to these heroic folks? Are they even now being whisked to the Bentonville headquarters via private jet,*** there to be honored for their service, perhaps to be awarded the Sam Walton Medal for Valor?**** Will they get a lifetime membership to Sam's Club? Would you believe a free chewy pretzel?

No, none of this. Instead, Walmart gave all four employees some time off. Well, more accurately, they gave all four employees forever off. Walmart fired them all. Walmart shill, er, spokesman Dan Fogelman put it this way:

We appreciate the intentions demonstrated by our associates in this situation, but the actions taken put their safety -- and potentially the safety of our customers and other associates -- in jeopardy. In their roles within the store, they were aware of our expectations regarding safety and, unfortunately, their actions have led to them no longer working for the company.

The first sentence contains a lie. It has to be a lie because no human being capable of speech could be that dumb. The employees' actions didn't increase the danger to the others in the store. Once Langton produced the gun, and given the options available to them,  the loss prevention people were right to defend themselves, disarm the bad guy and contain him away from others he might have attacked.

But a lie from a fellow in Fogelman's position is no big deal. What's really foul is that last unctuous, passively evil clause: "[U]nfortunately, their actions have led to them no longer working for the company."

Bad enough that cowardice is evidently Walmart corporate policy. Worse that Walmart "associates" -- even the ones who exchange heroism for minimum wage -- are disposable. What stinks worst of all is that Walmart's cowardice is so complete that it cannot even take responsibility for its own actions in firing these people. Don't blame the company, it's just "unfortunate" that these employees' actions somehow "led to them no longer working for the company."

The fact is that Walmart expects its loss prevention people to use "reasonable force" to detain shoplifters, unless and until the shoplifter produces a weapon, at which point the employees are supposed to "disengage." Although that policy is desperately flawed on about three obvious bases, let's let it lie for now. Because the policy isn't the problem this time. The problem is Walmart's mechanical application of the policy and its struthious disregard of the circumstances -- and of the effect on the lives of four people. That's management by cowardice, plain and simple.

Still, I have to believe that Stewart, Ray, Poulsen and Richins won't be long out of work. Surely Layton, Utah must be home to at least one employer who values something more than low prices.



 *Julius Caesar, Act 2, Scene II, Wm. Shakespeare. 

** Repeat Robert's Rule with me now: "Gun-free zones aren't"

*** Walmart's private fleet is the largest of any company.


**** No such medal exists, although Sam was the recipient of the Presidential Medal of Freedom from Bush 41 in 1992.

Sponge-headed.

I think I've said all that can profitably be said about the inherent idiocy of zero tolerance, so I'll keep this short.

Police in New Jersey have arrested and criminally charged a seven-year-old for possession of a Nerf gun. A five-dollar Nerf gun, which my Christmas forays into Toys R Us tell me is a very small Nerf gun indeed. You don't even get a large-capacity Nerf magazines at that price.

Dr. Dan Blachford -- doubtless a bright and guiding light in the firmament of New Jersey pedagogy -- explained:

We are just very vigilant and we feel that if we draw a very strict line then we have much less worry about someone bringing in something dangerous.

Something dangerous. You know. Like a seven-year-old armed with foam rubber.

A mom at the school -- evidently less of a pedagogue, as she doesn't know the difference between "then" and "than" -- was relieved:

I would rather them go a little bit too far for the safety of all the children then to say "okay, it was probably nothing."

 Nothing. You know. Like a seven-year-old armed with foam rubber.