Stone zoned

The advisers to the governors of Smugleye-on-Lake have delivered  to said governors their plan for village governance. It is the brand new zoning code, the previous zoning code having been deemed insufficiently intrusive on Smugleyeites' assumed right to peaceable and reasonable uses of their property.

A full reading shatters my emotions. For all these years I believed i lived in a "house," or a "home." Alas, under the new regime I have been resettled to a "nonconformity." Now, I don't mind being a nonconformity, but being ordered to live in one is quite another matter.

Magnanimously, the governors will permit me to continue living in my nonconformity, and even to maintain it within narrow limits. I'm sure that is contingent on my continued good behavior, such as  promising never, ever, to complain or, especially,  to make fun of these fine public servants in any public forum.

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For those interested, an update to the parasite/citizen ratio here in my village reveals 16 elected or appointed policy makers and three enforcers/technicians. this does not count cops and firemen and lawyers whose services we outsource. Nor does it count the various outside advisers we hire to advise our own advisers on on cool new laws. But lets just call it the 19, which amounts to one village regulator per 18 citizens.

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As a matter of general interest and perspective, the new SOL land-use law governing a village of 341 souls, covers 101 pages. Densely.

The Securities Exchange Act of 1934, governing many trillions of dollars of commercial activity, contains 93 pages.

Sic transit cellulose, so you just lay in a lot of it

And while I had the 3-volt Nikon Cockroach in hand, I decided it would be pleasant to record the main stash of propane substitute here at Camp Jiggleview, of which I am commandant. For mid-February, it is nearly ideal, well-plundered but still sufficient to warm us for the remainder of this winter and, mayhap, early in the next.

Much evil and confusion exist in our world. The center may not hold. I understand my duty to explain it all, but sometimes it's better just to go outside with your dog.

Eeeek. A bullet!

I understand principals' need to change into Depends at the very thought of  anything more weapon-like than a blunt Crayola.  If "something happens" they're going to get sued, maybe fired and faced with the need to find real jobs.

So I suppose the lockdown at a nearby junior high is just one of the sillinesses of the times, odiously called the "new normal."

I preferred the old normal. A Terry Stop of any 10 guys in my 7th grade room at Pleasant Valley probably would have turned up at least a dozen loose rounds of .22, fuzzy from riding in denim pockets.  But the school rulers never bothered to look.  Only if you took them out for inspection could you get in trouble.

The saintly Mrs.Minor: "James, put that back in your pocket and open your Warriner's. Don't make me tell you again."  Yeah, I was a repeat offender.

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Aside to our crack KUOO. You probably meant "cartridge" rather than "bullet." But what the Hell. It's only radio, and theyr'e both icky and fearsome, huh?