It is possible that I live in a state run by nutters.
Of course, our current most famous legislative act is SB1070, the attempt by the state government to enforce immigration laws. In fairness, what the feds are doing isn't really working that well, so I get the frustration.
Our legislature has been busy with other stuff, though. For example, it is now a law that every city hall, and courthouse in the state fly a POW-MIA flag, right below the old Stars and Stripes and the State of Arizona flag.
Why you ask? Me, too.
I appreciate the urge to remember those who fought and never returned, but can a pink flag for breast cancer awareness be far behind? Or one for child abuse, firefighters or peace?
It is the nature of these things that they proliferate.
Heck, I remember the days when we had no ribbons. Then someone came up with a yellow ribbon and all hell broke loose. Now we have ribbons to commemorate pretty much everything. We might soon need 200-foot-tall flagpoles to hold the flags of all the deserving causes wishing to be remembered via flag flying.
Have you ever noticed that a lot of people can't drive unless they are talking on the phone? Not to be a sexist, but it seems to me that more women than men fall into this category. Maybe I'm wrong, but I doubt it. My theory is that women are by nature more social than men and that it carries over to cell phone use.
The reason I point this out today is car doors. It is a miracle that more car doors are not ripped off in parking lots over the issue of folks not being able to hang up the damn phone for even a minute.
This morning I was pulling into a parking spot when the door of the car next to my space suddenly flew open and a women talking on her phone got out without a thought to the peril she and her car door were in.
Don't shoot me, I'm just the messenger.
I'm reminded of a story. One time I took my old dog Dingo to the store with me, as I often did. Dingo loved riding in my truck and would sit behind the steering wheel while I was inside. Not to worry, I left the truck running and the air on, with him safely locked inside.
I'm sure Dingo favored the driver's side because that is where I left from and logic, even for a dog, would dictate that I would return the same way. In this position, Dingo looked as if he was ready to put it in gear and hit the road.
I came out of the store to find a cop on a motorcycle waiting for me. He said that the dog could drive the truck in the parking lot, but if he took it out on the road he was going to cite him.
That was the only funny thing I ever heard a policeman say.
And now, a tribute to Dingo the Dog, gone, but not forgotten. Maybe I can get the state to let me put up a flag.
Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky