Be Prepared

Did anyone out there read that Time article a couple of weeks ago on the human reactions to moments and events of great crisis (“How to Get Out Alive: From hurricanes to 9/11: What the science of evacuation reveals about how humans behave in the worst of times” by Amanda Ripley—I’d link to it, but Time won’t let you at it unless you subscribe; go figure)? I found it absolutely fascinating, enthralling. Yeah, I read Time each week when it arrives, but it’s pretty rare for me to read every single word of an article, from beginning to end. But I did it with this one; it absolutely captivated me.

How could it be that a group of people in the one of the WTC towers on September 11th, 2001 actually had a staff meeting to discuss their options after the aircraft had struck their building? What in the holy living fuck were they thinking? No time to think or discuss or empanel a coordination committee according to the bylaws and constitution of the legally incorporated blah blah blah. No time for pleasantries, niceties, bowing to administrative hierarchy, remaining quietly and respectfully in your assigned place—time to unass yourself and act and move and go! Time to take charge of your life, if you want to keep it, that is.

How is it after a 747 is sliced open like a tin can, the flames start to lick the carcass, and the cabin fills with smoke, people are still just sitting in their seats? As Alex said so perfectly in A Clockwork Orange, “Sheep, thought I.” And to the slaughter a good many of them went, either passively accepting their fate, too damn ignorant and myopic to see it coming down on them, or unwilling/unable to make the instant mental adjustment to a radically altered environment and act accordingly.

How can people be so stupid, so uncomprehendingly passive in the face of an immediate threat to themselves and their loved ones? How can that be? Reading the Time article, it apparently happens quite a bit, an unintentional, sort of backdoor Darwin Award system. What I took away from the article is that these days, people just aren’t accustomed to or prepared in any way for an instantaneous threatening change in an environment, and when it comes, their inability to rapidly adjust and act upon that adjustment proves fatal. Those who have the mental agility to adapt are the ones that make it through to the next round.

I offer that most trite of Boy Scout adages, the motto itself: be prepared. Anytime, anywhere, just think a bit about what could happen, what may happen, and what just might happen. Think about this wherever you are, all the time. Where do you feel most safe and secure, and what if that were threatened? How would you react and deal with it? Think Janet Leigh in the shower in Psycho, the ultimate in vulnerability in what should be the most safe and relaxing environment there is—what would you have done in her predicament? Can you even place yourself in such a situation?

When you go to bed at night, what are you going to do if you awake to hear a prowler outside? What do you do if that prowler is already in your house? What exactly are you going to do? It’s unpleasant and highly disturbing to contemplate, but it’s not as bad as being robbed and murdered in your own home, you and your family. How are you going to protect your children? Do you have a weapon, and do you know how to use it? Do you know how to find your weapon and put it into action in the dark of your house? Is it a gun? Can you load it and shoot in pitch-black? It may be loud and impressive and really expensive and looked cool in that movie you saw, but can you really swing that 12-gauge pump shotgun in the hallways of your home? Do you really want to close with and duke it out mano-a-mano with an intruder or intruders with a steak knife or a baseball bat? Can you hide, and if so, where to? Are you really, truly, personally prepared and committed to summoning deadly force, to killing a stranger to protect yourself and others? And how do you get to notify help? Where is the phone, the cell phone, and what numbers are programmed? Think about this now, so if the time ever comes, it isn’t the first time you’re thinking of a plan of action.

This is just one scenario, and look at all of the questions you should be asking yourself. And there are dozens more. Have you ever thought of any of these? And if so, have you ever thought your way through the answers?

I knew a guy in college, a true pacifist. At least he said he was, and he probably really thought he was one, too. I remember a conversation in which he was so proud that he’d allow himself to be beaten and robbed, because he could never lift a hand against another person or being. The moron actually was even looking for a way to express himself in a non-violent kind of way, looking for an ass-kicking so he could sit there and take it (sound at all like a masochist/sub whose found his perfect non-attributable outlet?) Noble, I guess, but fundamentally stupid. He’d be one self-righteous paralytic or corpse, that’s for sure. But then again, had he ever really asked himself that question, sat and thought it all the way through, really cogitated on being in that situation where it was just him and the guy with an open pocket knife, pointed at his gut, the assailant a seething ball of psychotic junkie nerves? Had he ever really put himself into that situation, visualized himself being beaten, his property taken? Probably not. So when and if the time would come, this guy would be completely unprepared. He’d have his trendy principles, sure, but that’s not going to save his ass. Hell, maybe that's what he wanted.

I was in Las Vegas in May 1992 when the Joshua Tree earthquake struck southeastern California. I’d been refereeing at a major rugby tournament in town, and I and a number of the other referees had been at the casino all night long, gambling. I was at the blackjack table at about 5:00 a.m. when I noticed one of the chandeliers swaying a little. I thought that odd, sure, and chalked it up to about 40 hours without sleep, having refereed a number of rugby matches all afternoon and evening, and having been drinking steadily for the past few hours. But then I looked up again and the chandelier was really moving. That was definitely out of the ordinary, and I quickly checked a couple of others, to see them all doing the same. I raced through the possibilities, and it was on me in an instant: earthquake! I yelled “Earthquake!” to my referee buddies and table mates, and took off from the table for the doors, about 25 yards to my left.

I left maybe $500 in chips on the table, never once thinking about it until I went back into the casino and sat back down in my chair a good two hours later (and it was all still there). My money left at the table was/is absolutely irrelevant in the context of this situation. I'd be happy to pay $500 in cash for guaranteed safe passage out of a crisis. It was time to move, then, and I did.

As I ran, I could hear my mates and the folks at the table laughing and mocking me, and I could also feel the ground moving below me. As I hit the double-glass doors, the creaking and groaning was incredible, and I was sure I was going to be perforated there in a magnificently prismatic, scintillating explosion of tempered glass before I could get out. The last door jammed tight for a couple of seconds until the building expanded again, and I was out the door and into the middle of the early-morning street. The boulevard was rolling like a big sea swell, and there were whitecaps on the hotel pool, the water rolling out like something in a kid’s plastic baby pool.

About 30 seconds later, the horde started to stream out of the casino, a panicking mass. I was in the middle of the street, equidistant from the casinos to my front and rear, watching for the first sign of a collapse or debris so I could move out of the way. The idiots who only now were coming out had no inkling of this threat. I was miles ahead of them in every aspect of recognizing and reacting to this threat. What struck me was that I was literally the first person up and out, even out onto the street. Everyone else was behind me, in time and in location.

That was because I was open to that possibility, that something might happen. And something did. I’d been in a small earthquake in Germany as kid, and I remembered it. These things do happen, and without warning. The key is to always be thinking, “What if something happens?” What is that something? Hell, it could be anything, an earthquake, tsunami, blackout, drive-by shooting, meteor impact, fire, sinkhole, a busboy finally going postal over a lousy tip, absolutely anything. Life is coarse, random, unemotionally violent, and blink-of-an-eye fast; you’ve got to be ready for the unexpected at any time. We're no longer wild animal skin-wearing barbarians, and we like to think we’ve tamed the environment, but go ask the 170,000 folks who were killed in the tsunami disaster last December about taking charge of our environment and being ready in an instant to react in order to save your life.

When you enter a theater or a restaurant, where do you sit? I always sit with my back to a wall and prefereably to the entrance, where I can see everything else in the room. I also want to be near an exit, through the kitchen, a side door, even a nearby window. I want to be aware and prepared if something happens. Whatever it is, I want to see it first and be the first to react, to put all the idiots and morons and inattentive cellphone-prattling fools well behind me in the panicked every-man-for-himself rush to get out or take cover, or take action. A dumbass waiter sets the place on fire with a botched flambé dessert, or a gangster starts a raging shootout in the bar, or an addled octogenarian accidentally stomps of the gas of her ’88 Buick LeSabre and drives through the front of the restaurant at 60 mph; I need to think about that and be ready to react. How do you get out? How do you react if you can’t get out? Where can you go, and what can you do?

Think about Columbine: horrific tragedy by some dead-end shitheads who were never properly loved, cared for, or disciplined by their worthless parents, those four fucks just about equally guilty of the crime they set the stage for. What if one or more of the high school victims had gone on the offensive instead of cowering and hiding, pleading and begging? What would the murderers have done, or could’ve done, if a student had ambushed either or both with the torn-off blade of the big-ass paper cutter from the back of the classroom, wielding it like a machete and swinging it to kill? The last thing an attacker fully in the assault expects is a vicious and unblinking counter-attack. Soldiers are taught to instinctively turn and assault directly into an ambush, as this can turn the tide of the surprise attack. When the victim becomes the aggressor, often the dynamic is so radically and immediately altered that the balance of power and odds shift as well.

What do you do if there’s a shooting in your office? How do you get out? Where can you go that’s safe if you can’t get out? And how do you arm yourself with the best weapon you can lay your hands on to turn the tide on whoever may be out to harm you or others? Can you stab someone with a pair of scissors? Can you brain someone with that steel office chair? And how do you position yourself in your hallway, in your office, in your cube to take advantage of the environment? You’d better think about that now, because when your disgruntled and deranged coffee buddy Harley is coming down the hall with the shotgun in one hand and a Tec-9 in the other, the time for contemplation is over.

I carry (legally, thank you) a concealed handgun. When I first did this, a good ten years ago, my wife was incredulous and often belittled me, teasing me that “all (I) wanted to do was shoot someone.” Nope, not true. I don’t want to shoot anyone. I am well aware of what that would do to the lives of everyone involved. It would be a tragedy for all involved, and it would be catastrophic. Nope, I don’t want to shoot anyone. But, if there is ever a threat to me or my family, or to someone else and I can alter the outcome, I am prepared to do so. I train with the weapon, and I have thought through countless scenarios in which I might have to use it. I seek out stories of situations like that and I study them for context in any situation I may face. In fact, it’s unlikely that I ever will encounter such a situation, nor will I ever seek such a situation out; that’s just reckless and foolish, even disturbed. But, if it ever comes down to it, when that time comes, I’ll have a cushion of preparedness on my side, a history of mental contemplation and physical preparation which will put me at a great advantage over those who have never thought to make themselves ready.

So, reader, be prepared. Next time you get on the bus, or get in an elevator, or step into line at the local Burger Whop, ask yourself, “What if . . .” and think through the possibilities, and the permutations. Think it through and think about what you might or might not do, what you’re capable and incapable of doing, right then and there. Think about how quickly you can recognize a threat, and how you might deal with hit. That’s the only way you can be prepared for what life will throw at you.

Michael Franks on the Bandstand

Just back from seeing a Michael Franks show at a local venue. Out with the wife, who was looking fantastic tonight in her just-right-tight tan slacks and white blouse (she even indulged me by undoing just one more button in the front, so sexy), delicious and wonderful.

The local hall is a great place, with a long history of supporting music, well-run, clean, with great food and great service. Had the red beans and rice, just like the last time we went—great, as usual, although they skimp on the rice. I ordered a side of rice to bring it up to full volume (and they charged me $3.00). Threw a bunch of hot sauce over the top, and was all set. Been to this place quite a few times, as it’s close to the house and they consistently book great acts, and always look forward to a show there.

MF in town for a charity fundraiser—good man. And he didn’t disappoint, and he never has, not in any of the many times we’ve seen him, all the way back into the 80s.

Mr. Franks, Michael, Sir, on the off chance that you might encounter this, that someone in your management organization, or if someone in that personal six-degrees-of-separation constellation runs into it, here’s my message: Thank you for the work you’ve done, and what you continue to do. I’ve been listening going on 30 years now, and have never had a negative thought or impression. Mostly, I’ve felt envy, for your musical and poetic talent, your imagination, your ability to express yourself, and what I can only imagine to be a full, varied, and incredibly interesting life experience as a world-traveling jazz musician. Even before I had a real girlfriend, before the first marriage, and into the second, your music has been there as an influence, setting a tone, setting a kind of hoped-for standard of mutual understanding and respect. I’ve struggled with communicating my vision of what I’ve called a “Michael Franks love life” within the pedestrian, mundane life I’ve lead and still do. Your music has been an escape, another place to go for brilliant, creative, evocative, poetic, and magnificently romantic enunciations of love and longing, of life, and of just being hip-ly ‘there.’ Thanks for what you do and have done; love your work.

Okay, the show was great, opening with “Antonio’s Song.” MF promised to “play as many hits as (they) could get to,” and pretty much lived up to that. The combo was the traditional jazz trio, with a guy on horns and a female backup vocalist. They had a great sound, but so much of MF’s officially released music has been so incredibly arranged and produced, I really missed the rhythm guitar in there, a few more horns, a thrumming electric bass. They worked in “Rainy Night in Tokyo,” “Tiger in the Rain,” “The Lady Wants to Know,” and a number of others, finishing the 85-minute show with a single-song encore (ahead of the 10:00 pm show) of “Popsicle Toes.”

Me, I really wanted to hear some of my favorites, like “The Camera Never Lies,” with those fantastic drum and bass pops at the top of the chorus, and that stinging rhythm guitar. I really wanted to hear that rocking escape of “Island Life,” and the string-infused “On My Way Home to You.” I really wanted to hear that rumbling, rolling groove of “Coming to Life.” I really wanted to hear the incredible samba of “This Must Be Paradise.” I was disappointed not to hear them, but it’s no big deal. Maybe next time.

I noticed two subtle lyric changes in MF’s songs, and wonder if these are permanent, the reflections and exercise in judgment of an older and more experienced artist, someone more in tune to recent times and altered sensibilities. Subtle, but I picked up on it. The first change was a tiny one in “One Bad Habit:” instead of singing the line “. . . You’re like a hit of something uncut,” clearly a drug reference, which in the late 70s was a totally hip thing to throw in, MF offered “ . . . You’re like a foreign film that’s uncut.” Subtle, and interesting, especially when the “. . . even after we’ve mainlined” lyric remained in the following verse.

The second change was in “Monkey See Monkey Do.” Instead of singing the line “Every night we fuss and fight, like Arabs and like Jews,” we got “Every night we fuss and fight, like spoiled children do.” Interesting choice, and if you ask me, the right one. No sense in singling these two groups out for the song, despite that fact that the lyric remains as accurate today as the day it was written.

As always, couldn’t keep my eyes off the bass player. Coolest guy in the band, every time, always, regardless of the band, venue, or genre. This guy was on a traditional stand-up double bass. Pretty cool in his trendy dark-frame James Spader skinny glasses and a cool jazz-artist goat bushing out there on his chin. He had a couple of rather long solos, but they didn’t really rock me. Too high in the register, too twangy, not the down low rumblings that a bass should be putting out. He was having fun, though, and I envied him, sitting in my seat and watching his mouth and jaw work as he made his music.

Also, as always, I couldn’t help but think of what it might be like to live their lives, to be a musical artist. Having just retired from my first career and begun a second, I actually entertained the thought of going back to school, getting a BA in music, actually learning to play formally, being a real-live musician. But who am I kidding? How does that pay the mortgage or put the kids through college in another 9 years? I mean, seriously. It was fun to think of, but my opportunity to be a serious musician passed me by a good 20-odd years ago.

Having played only in garage bands, for friends and wives and girlfriends, never having been paid for playing, I’ve always been intoxicated, always shocked by those first magical notes when four or five folks start playing their own instruments in key and in rhythm and out comes music. It’s fascinating, something new and wonderful is being made, and it’s the collaboration and cooperation that’s doing it. Invisible threads of people’s lives and beings, meeting and weaving in space as they make music. Being a part of that bit of collaborative creation is a rush, even for a bunch of low-talent yutzes yowling away in a Saturday night garage. It would be so much better to do it professionally, to deliver seriously rehearsed and produced music, for an appreciative audience; what an addictive thrill I think it would be.

But then again, being a musician is a job like any other. Gotta get up, put on the uniform, get and maintain the equipment, and deliver for the customer. The only difference between a musician and any other worker-bee is the venue and the product. Tonight alone, MF and band tonight are playing two shows, all of 2 ½ hours apart. Two shows with cool, improv solos, back to back. How can you work up your enthusiasm to play a song for the first show when you know you’re going to do it again in about 2 hours? How do you build and maintain your excitement over a song you’ve played maybe 25,000 times in a 25-year career? How do you take the stage knowing that your paycheck and continued good will of the audience is riding on delivering your core competency, that is, playing the hits, when maybe you don’t want to play them, you’d like to jam or play something new, something obscure? How do you deal with the forced repetition of playing the same song over and over, year after year, in rehearsal and on stage? How many times has MF sang “Popsicle Toes” in his lifetime? How many times a year does he sing that song, like 300 times? Does he still love and cherish it, or does he secretly, quietly despise it, just absolutely loathe hearing it?

None of this is a slam on MF or his band, who did their job and did it well this evening. I got my money’s worth, and am satisfied with the transaction, as I’ve always been with him. MF was, as always, a laidback gentleman, entertaining and open with the crowd, quiet, almost shy in his delivery of his wonderful work. No over-the-top theatrics, no top-of-the-register wailing and hammy thrashing away up there, no prancing around. Nice to see a mature, well adjusted artist up there doing his thing.

These are the things I wondered as I sat there, watching them make their art, make their public product, make their music in the very public conduct of their chosen professions.

When I Become Philosopher-King

Someday it will happen. I will awaken to the glorious news that it has come down, from some divine/mystical source, from a black hole distant gamma burst of pinpoint accuracy, an electromagnetic anomaly beamed from the molten iron core of the planet, an 11th dimension focused energy beam from entities beyond our comprehension, a beacon from beyond life and death as we know it, a plasmatic blast of previously unknown power-energy resulting from a distant Pacific atoll clandestine French nuclear blast, a glowing purple neon announcement a la a cosmic Batsignal blazing away in a roiling clouded night firmament, that I am now Philosopher-King of the World.

The changes will begin immediately:

- The good shall be rewarded, in every way possible, held up to public adoration, their deeds and work publicized and offered as an example to others.

- The bad shall be punished, quickly and severely, commensurate with their negative actions and crimes, and shall be held up to public vilification and condemnation, their punishment publicized widely, offered as an example to others.

- The idle shall be productive, whether they like it or not. The basic rule of thumb will be that of colonial Jamestown: no work, no food.

- The sick and needy will be cared for by the state, funded by a fair and just—and simple—system of taxes commensurate with income, wealth, and station; the sick and needy will be nurtured and made to care for themselves, if possible.

- Everyone reads Catch-22, and then writes a ten-page analytical paper, highlighting personal lessons learned.

- Crime and Punishment:
-- Condemned criminals will be used for medical experimentation.
-- Other criminals may earn special treatment or even mitigation of their sentences by volunteering for medical experiementation.
-- Convicts will clean up trash on th side of roadways, everywhere.
-- Convicts will sort all trash for recycling.
-- All convicts will work, and will be paid an honest, modest wage for their labor.
-- Only those convicts who have proven their worth by working well will earn the opportunity for rehabilitation, education, etc. Those who do not work will receive none of these privileges, and will be the most affected by the "punishment" aspect of prison life.
-- Convicted murderers sentenced to death—and there will be quite a few until people grasp the new and unflinching paradigm of the punishment fitting the crime--will be put to death in the exact same manner as that of their victims.
-- Convicts will work for their room and board, and for an acceptable wage, through extensive community service, cutting grass, picking up trash, area beautification, separation of recyclables in trash, etc. Again, no work, no food.
-- The term “hard labor” will return to the penal system, and it will be just that. I'm seeing a vision of Cool Hand Luke public sector labor, that kind of thing.

- Alternative fuels and power sources will be given very, very high government, technical, and scientific priority.

- The stupid shall be made to understand patience, contemplation, and the utility of asking yourself for some common sense.

- Those who act out of selfishness will be taught the true value of giving of oneself rather than taking from others.

- The scarlet letter will return, a blood-red tattoo right smack in the middle of the forehead. If you can’t stay true, don’t marry, or be honest and forthright enough to come clean and divorce your spouse properly and legally before you stray. Adultery will be punished for the criminal breach of contract that it is.

- The right to vote, and to participate with any real import in civic society will be earned; citizenship will be earned (read your Heinlein, specifically Starship Troopers) through a period of public service, in the military, fire/police, education, medicine, civil/social assistance, etc.

- Public service will earn a progressively increasing tax break. Those who serve as teachers, police officers, firemen, etc. will get a very simple to calculate break of 1% for every year of service: 5% off their taxes at 5 years, 10% at ten years of service, 20% at 20 years, right on up to as long as you can and are willing to serve. Similar calculations will be made for the military services and other types of local, state, and federal workers.

- People who abuse, neglect, or otherwise mistreat their own children first will be abused, neglected and mistreated in the exact same fashion. They then will permanently and irrevocably lose custody of their children and permanently lose all rights of a parent. Sterilization will follow in just about all cases. No one gets a second chance with the welfare and life of a child.

- Anyone who intentionally or through gross negligence injures a child will be looking at a sentence of at least 20 years.

- Those who profit from or subsist on the sorrow or pain of children will earn a death sentence.

- Everyone will be required to learn at least two foreign languages.

- OJ will be retried, and things will turn out differently. Same thing with MJ.

- Lying, swindling, thieving CEOs and corporate millionaires will be served very, very rough justice indeed, at the hands of those from whom they have stolen. Being reduce to, and having to live out your days as a destitute pauper will be appropriate and ironic punishment indeed.

- A single drunk driving conviction will earn an immediate five-year suspended license. A subsequent conviction will result in lifetime forfeiture of all driving privileges.

- All citizens will be required to learn how to use a firearm.

- The right of citizens to own firearms shall not be infringed. Now let’s clarify this: No one gets to own an assault rifle, those are for the military, police, and security forces. You may own as many firearms as you wish, that is, pistols, shotguns, and rifles. Everyone who owns a firearm will undergo rigorous background checking and a waiting period, and be required to have a license to own/use it, just like you have a license to operate a motor vehicle. This means firearms education and training for everyone who wishes to enjoy the right of gun ownership, which shall not be infringed. All firearms will be recorded by serial number in a federal database. Punishments for illegal gun ownership and crimes involving firearms will be very severe.

- The “homeless” will be properly referred to as “vagrant,” or the much more direct, “bum.” Those vagrants needing medical attention will be given it, whether they want it or not, to include detox. Those needing mental health attention will be given it, whether they want it or not, to include involuntary committal. Those who are able-bodied and are just too goddamn lazy to exercise the personal discipline to work for a living will face the simple choice of: no work, no food.

- Welfare will be an option for the indigent and disadvantaged, but the clock starts ticking immediately. You’ve got two years to make yourself self-sufficient, because that’s all you’re ever going to get.

- Extensive recycling laws will be enacted quickly, and enforced rigorously.

- Taxes will be higher. Not a lot higher, but will rise to pay for social programs and needed services. Taxes will be equitable and fair across all incomes and situations, with the rich paying a greater amount than the poor.

- Everyone will have health care, provided by the state. No one will go wanting for health care.

- The right of American citizens to the privacy and privileges of their own bodies will not be infringed by the government or any group.

- Marriage will be a right enjoyed by all members of society, every single person who chooses to take that fateful plunge.

- Possession with intent to distribute and trafficking in any illegal drug will be punishable by death; ask Singapore, they’re onto something here.

- Everyone will be computer-literate, and the state will provide hardware, software, connectivity, and training.

- Puritanical and hypocritical laws forbidding normal, healthy sexual activity between consenting adults will be abolished.

- Rugby will air on TV sports, a lot. And Gaelic football, and Irish hurling. Hockey will be out of luck.

- Lying, hypocritical politicians all will be out of a job.

- I will personally liquidate the assets and put out of business Firestone, permanently. The corporate officers will be jailed, for a good long time, and once they get out, a court order will direct that pre-1997 Firestone steel-belted radials go on their cars, always, for the rest of their lives. Let them ride on, and let them make the decisions on the relative worth of their families’ lives regarding the defective products they chose to continue to manufacture and sell to the public, even after being informed. Remember that deadly tire thing a few years back, boys? And the massive cover-up, denial, and reluctance to do right by your customers? Did you ever check on how your customers were treated in that mess? No, I didn’t think so.

- Environmental crimes will be punished by the complete liquidation of the corporate officers’ personal and their business’ assets to remedy the situation to exactly the same was it was before they ruined it.

- Every woman shall get her hair dyed blonde, black, brunette, and red at least once in her adult life, just to see how it looks, and to give the men in their lives a little bit of variation.

- The interference of religion in any form in the workings of government will be exposed and then prosecuted as the insidious and unconstitutional crime that it is.

- Radioactive and other highly toxic wastes will be removed from the planet by launching them on rockets into the sun. Let solar fusion do the work.

- Constructive, polite, reasoned criticism in all forms not only will be tolerated but accepted as such. Threats, insults, slander and libel will be prosecuted as the crimes they are.

- Lots of old TV shows will be back, like “Lancelot Link: Secret Chimp” and “The Banana Splits,” “Mannix,” “McCloud,” “McMillan and Wife,” etc.

- Winners of any lottery or other gambling prize over $10,000 will be required to donate a minimum of 20% of the after-tax winnings to a charity of their choice.

- Smoking will be banned, very quickly. Those who want to dip, despite the health warning, are more than welcome to do so; you don't poison the air we breathe with your addiction.

- Everyone must read at least 6 books a year.

- All citizens will be required to keep their properties, homes, and personal possessions in a respectable state of cleanliness and repair; failure to do so will result in forcible clean-up by relevant authorities, and possible forfeiture of that asset.

- Alaskan Amber ale will be available everywhere.

- Asshole drivers, when caught in the act, will have the option of an immediate roadside (as an example to others) flogging of 6 strokes with the baton, or losing their car for a year. I think there are multiple levels of deterrent value here.

- Government servant corruption of any sort will earn an immediate and mandatory 20-year sentence for each count, with no time off.

- There will be no protection or defense of incompetence or neglect in the workplace.