Get on the floor, bitch.

Do it NOW, cuz I don't think that breast pin is registered.

(And please, I am not being a copper bore this time either. I'm being a gold bore, merely noting in passing that copper today passed $4.60 and that your old copper cent is now worth  a curly over three zinc pennies.)

The cops in Federal Way, Washington, are embarrassed at a rise in home burglaries. They blame Tim and Ben or whatever for making gold prices go so high.  So  they aspire to make it much harder to sell your grandma's  ugly old cocktail ring if it contains gold, silver, or platinum.  To do so you make the dealer take your fingerprints, require him to issue you a check rather than cash, retain the trinket for 45 days, and enter it on a police database.

The city fathers are pushing a state law to that effect, but legislative deliberation is much too slow for them, so they want to enact it locally. Me? I figure that if they get the job done there will be a boom in coin dealerships, pawn shops, and precious metal dealers just outside the city limits. If the state caves in, well, Idaho isn't all that far off.

But guys like us are probably just warped old cynics who have no sympathy for common-sense jewelry control.

Some of you are even worse. I mean you radical malcontents who look at this as a neat way for the gummint to keep track of your wedding band after the tipping point. The tipping point is defined as that instant during which you and I and the Chinese decide to quit going along with the gag that our currency means something.