“What-eva… I do what I want!”
~ Eric Cartman ~
Unless you zoned out in chapter 5 after ingesting way too many vape hits, which I don’t advise but is totally your prerogative, and if you’ve been paying attention, by now you should understand that more government interference in the free market usually results in less economic prosperity. Once you’ve digested that, digest this: Government interference doesn’t end in the corporate world—no, no, no. Twenty-first-century bureaucrats love to stick their noses into all aspects of our private lives, regulating and banning seemingly anything that displeases them. You do realize this insidious form of legislative intrusion means you and I have less personal choice in life, right? So what is our generation going to do about it? Not your problem, bro? Really?
The struggle for personal freedom is not an abstract issue; it affects every American and has ever since our Founding Fathers created this nation. It’s real—if you don’t believe me, jump into your way-back machine and think about your own upbringing. If you’re like most of us, your struggle for independence began long before you even left your parents’ home. I personally fought for mine my entire life.
I’ve had an entrepreneurial knack since birth. Even as a mere tot, I loved the smell of money. I began obsessively collecting loose change around my house before I could do simple math. As I got older, I begged my parents to let me do chores. Kind of weird, I know, since chores are most kids’ worst nightmare but I gleaned a special kind of thrill from earning a couple of bucks. Plus, it’s not like I had anything better to do; I lived in the sticks of New Hampshire for chrissake. My only friends were my Goosebumps books.
Before I did my chores, there was nothing I enjoyed more than haggling with my parents. You want me to mow the lawn for $5, Dad? Get real. That’ll cost you $10 at least… No? Okay, fine, let’s meet in the middle at $7… Deal.
I was a born negotiator, and as a result my piggy bank got heavier every month. Life was good; I was a youngster stacking dolla-dolla bills. My future was bright, but after a while my greedy little self yearned for more and more and more money. The ten bucks I was collecting each week for scraping mom’s meat loaf off dirty dishes and scrubbing dirty toilets just wasn’t cutting it anymore.
And that’s when it hit me: I’d hold my own yard sale and sell my old crap at the bottom of my driveway. It was a stroke of genius. I found a few old card tables in the garage and gathered all my junk—some old stickers, a couple of Beanie Babies, a scratched Shania Twain CD, a half-used notebook (I tore out the scribbled-on pages… they’d never be able to tell). You get the idea.
I placed all my stuff on the tables and taped a huge SALE sign on one. Then I waited to rake in the dough, and waited. Remember, I lived in the boonies, so business wasn’t exactly booming; I sat out there all day. The few customers I got were stay-at-home moms walking their dogs who bought something just to be nice. But hell, I loved it! There was nothing better than the feeling of closing a sale.
I started having these little yard sales quite often on weekends, and I enlisted my friend Amanda to help me. I was the main salesperson, and she was there for backup and emotional support. I learned the best way to make people buy stuff was to act cute. After all, only a coldhearted jerk wouldn’t buy a $2 trinket from a smiling little angel! One summer I saved up for months to buy my own Nintendo 64—it was my first major purchase. I was so proud of that crummy little gaming system.
In the end, even though my “small business” never made me rich, it paid dividends. I learned a lot about entrepreneurship, fiscal responsibility, and the art of the sale. It made me a confident, self-reliant person and convinced me that it’s good for kids to earn their own money instead of constantly having everything handed to them by Mommy and Daddy.
Apparently, though, the government doesn’t agree with me. During the last few years, the government has launched a war against kindergarten entrepreneurs. Kiddos hosting their own little sales or lemonade stands have been shut down and even slapped with penalties for not acquiring the right permits. In 2015, two little girls in Texas had their lemonade stand shut down after a couple hours for failing to get a permit from the health department (#NotFromTheOnion).1 The absurdity! The duo was trying to raise $105 to buy a Father’s Day gift for their dad. Thankfully the girls found a loophole in the red tape: They were able to give away their lemonade and take donations.2 Still, the whole situation is insane. Kids from all parts of the country who had the audacity to operate their own “unlicensed” goodie stands have drawn police visits and gotten their parents slapped with $500 fines. In one case, a city councilman even called the police on kids selling cupcakes.3 What a d-bag.
Now that I’ve taken you on a trip down my own memory lane, I want you to remember your childhood. Did your parents ever bust you for wrestling with your older brother, or maybe a neighborhood kid? They probably told you to cut it out but you wouldn’t, would you? It was so much fun… that is, until your arm got twisted or mom’s favorite lamp was launched across the room. Maybe you bawled your eyes out while Mom or Dad used every ounce of their willpower not to yell. Your shenanigans probably got you a stint in kiddie prison (your bedroom) to think about what had just unfolded.
After you served your time, you most likely found a whole new set of draconian rules thrown down in your house, like, “No more monkey business of any kind inside!” Did you think your parents’ reaction was a bit… extreme? I mean, all things considered, it was just a bit of harmless horseplay, no one got seriously hurt; the lamp was easily repaired.
Maybe you voiced your displeasure with the new rules, but Mom and Dad wouldn’t hear it, so you went to bed wondering where it all went so wrong. Well, here’s your wake-up call: The extreme ruling came down on your precious little head because it happened when your dad was reading the paper and your mom was on the phone long-distance with Auntie Judy. They weren’t concerned with you getting hurt; it was just easier for them to ban all monkey business than to have to monitor your every move to see if you were up to no good.
This, my friends, is exactly how our government rolls. It’s called the nanny state, and it’s here to smother you in maternalistic mismanagement and overregulation. The Cato Institute defines the nanny state as a collection of laws, regulations, and binding court decisions that send the very clear message that politicians and bureaucrats know more than we do about how we should live, take care of our health, and raise our children.4
It’s so much easier for the Nanny to ban and regulate the heck out of everything than to look up from the newspaper and actually engage in the situation at hand. So now every American citizen is being treated like an annoying eight-year-old wrestling in the living room. Whether it’s on the federal or state level, we’re being infantilized to the point of absurdity. I don’t know about you, but I like to think of myself as an intelligent adult, fully capable of making my own decisions. If I run across something in life that I don’t quite understand, like computer circuitry or why Adam Sandler continues to be allowed to make movies, I know where to find the answers or who to ask for help.
The point is I have fully operating brain synapses firing on all cylinders, so I can take care of myself. I can get from point A to B without a court-appointed guardian. I know to look both ways before crossing the street and not to stick my finger in an electrical socket unless I want to end up looking like one of Lady Gaga’s wigs. I know where to go to fulfill my basic needs, be it the grocery store or nail salon. I know staying out until 3 A.M. on a work night is probably not going to bode well for my productivity the next day. I don’t need a bureaucrat to tell me that.
The thing is, these bureaucrats don’t know any more than the rest of us, but they seem to think they’re the experts who must save us from ourselves. How chivalrous of them to make every life decision for us from what we eat to what we can do to our own bodies. How many members of Congress have the training to tell us if genetically modified organisms are safe or the work of the devil? How many have studied mechanical engineering to understand the physics behind car seat belt safety?
Legislators are also notorious for lacking the patience for any sense of ambiguity. They hate unknowns, because that would require intelligent thought and careful consideration. It’s much easier to ban lawn darts or Slip ’n Slides from every kid’s summer vacation to-do list than it is to stand up to the fanatical whims of misguided consumer groups or concerned parents led by D-list celebrities playing doctor. It’s far simpler to kowtow to the loudest squawkers, be they wing-nut constituents or billionaire lobbyists, than it is to be an arbiter of rational thought and reason. Our lawmakers are determined to ensure a risk-free world, even if it kills them… and us.
There’s a reason why the Constitution begins with the words “We the people…” The Founding Fathers wanted American citizens to control their own lives. Our government was created to work for us, not against us with a never-ending set of rules and regulations. Are we really free if we have to cower in our basements to smoke a cigarette, watch porn, or have a sleepover with a well-paid friend? I’ll answer that for you. You’re about as free now as you were when your mom threw you behind the bars of your crib so she could finish watching Dallas in peace.
The federal government was never intended to be the supreme power of the United States. That’s why we fought the American Revolution, folks. “The fed” was designed to secure our general welfare, enforce the Constitution, and do things like defend us from enemy attacks while playing nice with the other countries of the world. Big-picture diplomacy stuff that we as private citizens can’t be bothered with because we have jobs and families and summer music festivals to attend.
That’s it. That’s all the federal government was conceived for, and in return it’s our duty as Americans to govern ourselves and make good choices, which shouldn’t be too hard because it’s in our own best interest to do so. So every time we allow legislators to pass into law regulations that will “protect” us, we’ve just handed our asses—our freedom and our individualism—over to the government on a silver platter. And I don’t know about you, but I like my ass—it gets a lot of compliments—and I would like to hold on to it.
Speaking of asses… I’m a big girl now. I don’t need my parents to wipe mine or blow my nose, so why should I let some government bureaucrat do it? I grew up with strict parents; they were awesome, but at a certain point they had to let me live my life. They let me move hundreds of miles away to attend college and then hundreds more after I graduated. I don’t sleep in my childhood bed anymore, because my parents respected me enough to let me spread my wings and fly. I know that may sound cheesy, but the point is my parents raised me to be a self-sufficient, contributing member of society. They helped me more than they’ll ever know by letting me make my own decisions. So my question is: If my own parents were able to let go, why won’t the federal government?
The nanny state will never let us sit at the adult table. Do responsible adults really need someone to take away their Cokes or hide their table salt like they were unruly children? This may sound like an extreme analogy, but it’s closer to reality than you think. There is actually such a thing as table salt regulation in this country. New York’s Health Department has proposed requiring all chain restaurants to add salt-shaker symbols on menus next to items that contain more than the recommended daily limit of 2,300 milligrams of sodium, or about one teaspoon of salt.5 San Francisco, not to be outdone by its liberal comrades on the East Coast, wants to ban ads for sugary sodas on public property and even passed legislation to require health warnings on ads for sugar-sweetened drinks. Their measure also forbade the use of city funds to buy sodas.6 Salt? Sodas? Seriously, people?
Sugar isn’t the spawn of the devil. Sure, sucking down too much of it isn’t good for you, but a little won’t hurt you, either. Any nutritionist will tell you a little salt is essential to good health.7 Adults need to consume sodium and water to replace the amount lost through sweat. There’s also research suggesting that salt is actually good for brain development—it’s the iodine in iodized salt that helps the body make thyroid hormone, which is critical to an infant’s brain development.8
Unfortunately, nutrient regulation isn’t the only area where the government insists on sticking its big fat nose into our lives. Some school officials recently decided to suck the fun out of traditional holidays (sayonara, Santa, and eat shit, Easter Bunny). Students at a Pennsylvanian elementary school were banned from wearing Halloween costumes because school officials said they were making safety their top priority.9
Safety from what? I don’t know. The horror of inappropriate costumes like Slutty Sixth Grader or Friendly Neighborhood Serial Killer? When it comes to “safety,” did these Pennsylvania school officials think kids were going to trip over their Jedi robes or pass out from lack of oxygen while wearing their Dora the Explorer plastic masks? How many kids do they think they’re protecting? It’s like the Grinch’s cousin couldn’t find work tormenting the Whos in Whoville, so he decided to run for a seat on the Pennsylvania school board.
Along those same lines, another ridiculous attempt to protect our country’s youngest citizens resulted in flip-flops being banned in San Juan Capistrano city parks. Were the brilliant minds in San Juan Capistrano trying to prevent the city from liability in case someone blew out their flip-flop in Margaritaville? Good grief. I, for one, refuse to live in a world where a government employee determines my footwear. I think I speak for all women when I say there’s no better way to incite fear and panic in the hearts of womankind than to mention the possibility of having a civil servant yank their shoes away from them. Don’t you men know many of us womenfolk would rather sleep with our Manolo Blahniks than with most of you? There is no more intimate relationship on earth than the one between a girl and her shoes, so step back, boys, and leave us alone with our sole mates!
Another modern form of self-expression that’s dangerously close to being violated like a Yorkshire terrier at an inner-city dog park is the freedom to tattoo. Some cities are now calling for a twenty-four-hour waiting period before people can get them, in a brilliantly titled but inherently flawed “Think Before You Ink” campaign.10 I have a feeling they came up with the slogan and thought it was so awesome they needed to come up with a law to go with it. I mean, I like a good catchphrase as much as the next girl but did anyone notice this is “cosmetic skin adornment” we’re talking about here? Just because the Nanny thinks we’re being rash in our decision making doesn’t mean she has the right to stop us from doing what we want to do… to our own bodies… right?
How far can this type of regulation go? I can tell you how far it’s gone in the past. Not so long ago, getting body art was outlawed in New York City (from 1961 to 1997).11 It’s one of those early egregious examples of city officials making bogus claims (by linking tattoos to a minor outbreak of hepatitis B).
And the mother of all government interference with our bodies would have to be the antichoice laws that prevent women from having early-term abortions. I can’t think of any greater example of a bureaucrat literally sticking his dick in my business than being forced to give birth to a child against my will. Seriously, what do these old geezers know about my personal life circumstances? They have no clue about my current living situation or what my future plans are. They don’t know my dreams and aspirations. But now, through overregulation, they’ve become active participants in how I’m going to live my life? They get to make a choice that will affect every moment of my life until my dying day? In the nanny state strangers get to determine the course of your life. If that doesn’t chill you to the bone, I don’t know what will. This isn’t some bad sci-fi thriller starring Bruce Willis and a barely-clad Milla Jovovich running from Big Brother while maneuvering through high-speed airborne-car chases. No—this is your life.
Have I got your attention yet? Because moral condemnation aside, the concept of complete strangers working in an ivory tower in Washington, D.C., and making decisions about what I can or cannot do to my body is insulting at best and criminal at worst. It’s nothing short of insanity that we live in a country where the former mayor of New York City thought it was perfectly acceptable to browbeat New Yorkers into taking the stairs instead of an elevator by posting signs all over office buildings with the admonishment “Burn Calories, Not Electricity. Take the Stairs!”12
Subtle, dude. Real subtle.
But he wasn’t done, not by a long shot. Mayor Michael Bloomberg became a nanny-state icon when he ruled New York City more like a day care than the fifth largest city in the world. During his twelve-year reign, Bloomberg got so ban-happy he all but made New Yorkers walk around with pacifiers in their mouths. He did things like trying to ban the sale of sodas and other sugary beverages larger than sixteen ounces.
Now it’s totally obvious that our country has gone pear-shaped by packing on more than a few extra pounds. There’s no way to sugarcoat it (or deep-fry it in a vat of lard at the state fair); we, as a nation, are a bunch of fat-asses. And the more we talk about it, the worse the problem seems to get, but snatching a Big Gulp out of out of Chubina Fatsorelli’s sausage fingers is not the answer. There’s evidence to suggest a ban would actually increase the use of sugary drinks.13
Suppose the sixteen-ounce soda was verboten and you could only buy ten ounces—but you wanted more. What would you do? You might be tempted to buy two 10-ounce drinks so you end up drinking more than you originally intended. When it comes to scratchin’ that sugar itch, if someone wants to drink their weight in Mountain Dew, mark my words they will drink it, and ask for seconds.
Bloomberg’s proposed legislation was oddly selective. Restaurants, sandwich shops, and movie theaters were forbidden from serving supersized beverages. But other businesses like 7-Eleven and Starbucks, with their caffeinated milkshakes and high-calorie coffee drinks, were given a pass. This made about as much sense as using Italian words for small, medium, and large coffee sizes (I’m looking at you, Starbucks mermaid). The fundamental problem with this type of regulation is pretty much that everything in excess is bad for you, so where do you draw the line? Banning things can become addictive—look at the bloomin’ mayor. I don’t think he wanted to stop until he’d wiped the behind of every New Yorker.
You can’t even escape Mr. Bloomberg’s reign of terror by running into the bathroom. If you’re a woman who has ever nearly peed yourself while waiting to use the restroom at a major concert or sporting even, good ol’ Mayor Bloomberg was there to save you like a knight in toilet paper armor. Dubbed “Potty Parity,” his legislation to ensure a two-to-one ratio for women’s restrooms in new public venues including bars, restaurants, and concert halls was passed by the New York City Council. Thanks… I think?
In his three terms in office, Bloomberg nearly busted a nut trying to ban just about everything from serving trans fat in restaurants to loud headphones. Check out all the other fun stuff he banned at some point during his tenure, on this hit list compiled by Gizmodo:14
• No smoking in commercial establishments like bars and restaurants (2003)
• No smoking in public spaces (2011)
• No cigarette sales to those under twenty-one (2013)
• No sales of “flavored” tobacco products (2009)
• No smoking e-cigarettes in public spaces (2013)***
• No cigarette in-store displays (2013)
• No cars in Times Square (2009)
• No cars driving in newly created bike lanes (2007–2013)
• No cars causing congestion below Sixtieth Street in Manhattan (2007)*
• No speeding in residential “slow zones” (2013)
• No high sodium levels in processed foods (2010)**
• No Styrofoam packaging in single-service food items (2013)
• No sodas larger than sixteen ounces (2012)*
• No collecting yard waste and grass clippings during certain times of the year (2003–2013)
• No organic food waste from landfills (2013)**
• No commercial music over forty-five decibels (2013)
• No chain restaurant menus without calorie counts (2008)
• No posting of signs in “city-owned grassy areas” (2013)
• No non-fuel-efficient cabs (2007)
• No new cabs that aren’t Nissan NV200s (2013)*
• No greenhouse gas emissions (2007)
• No government buildings that aren’t LEED-certified (2005)
• No non-hurricane-proof buildings in coastal areas (2013)
• No black roofs (2009)**
• No construction cranes over twenty-five years old (2013)
• No No. 6 and No. 4 “heavy” heating oils (2011)
• No cell phones in schools (2006)
• No more than two terms for city elected officials (2008)*
In case you’re worried that you still might have to check your Big Gulp at the Lincoln Tunnel, never fear, my Classic Cokeheads. The New York State Supreme Court struck down the soda ban. In a twenty-page opinion, Judge Eugene F. Pigott Jr. of the New York State Court of Appeals wrote that the city’s Board of Health “exceeded the scope of its regulatory authority.”15 At least someone had some common sense for once, but that rarely seems to be the case these days. Seeing rational thought come out of a court ruling in 2015 is like spotting Leonardo DiCaprio at a wedding chapel or Jessica Simpson in a turtleneck and flats. Americans rarely witness their tax dollars being spent on safeguarding their personal liberties. It’s far more likely you are paying to have them taken away.
While government spends way too much time regulating Slurpees, sodas, salt, and tattoos, there are more serious vices that are simply banned. Prostitution, gambling, and pornography drive blood to our extremities for a variety of reasons. And while our society has taken a hard line on the immorality of engaging in these activities, it hasn’t seemed to deter these practices. Sex workers have been around since the dawn of man and, more important, woman. And whether or not we find it to be a nasty practice done by perverts, the sex industry won’t be disappearing anytime soon.
Prostitution continues to flourish everywhere, but who is getting rich off it? It’s certainly not the working girls. It’s usually some Tony Soprano–esque crime boss running delightfully named strip clubs like the Bada Bing. And who gets hurt? Just about everyone but the crime boss. Why?
Since prostitution is illegal, everyone involved in the industry is driven underground. This affects not just the industry workers, it affects us all—even the good wholesome families in suburbia. How? When sex workers can’t receive adequate medical care, that results in somebody’s daddy bringing home a supersexy case of syphilis for Mommy.
Now let’s just dream for a minute and think about what would happen if we dropped all the regulations and let the horny men run wild and free. What if prostitution were legal? Working girls would be able take a more preventative approach to their health care as well as seek help when they needed it. And hey, if you had government-run brothels, you could tax them up the wazoo and make billions.
The Netherlands is a great example of a country that understands the far-reaching benefits of decriminalizing everything from paid sex to drugs. Prostitution has been legal in Amsterdam since 1988. The Dutch have a violent crime rate far lower than that of New York City and have found that regulating the sex industry reduces human trafficking, forced prostitution, and exploitation of children.16 That’s right, legalizing everything has made their society better. Dutch prostitutes pay taxes on their income and get tested for sexually transmitted diseases regularly. The city of Amsterdam has been so pleased with the system that in 2007, a bronze statue memorializing “working women” was erected (pun definitely intended).17
I truly believe other vice industries like drugs, pornography, and gambling could be regulated with similar results. We could bring these billion-dollar industries out into the light and it would be no different from Colorado and Washington State legalizing marijuana, which has proven to be a huge success in both states.
When any activity is driven underground, the bloodsuckers will come to feast. Even if this is all foreign to you, don’t be fooled into thinking vice crimes don’t impact your life. The truth is whenever organized crime gets involved in an activity, even law-abiding citizens can get dragged into the mess. Innocent people get in the line of fire all the time.
The ultimate question of how far the government should be allowed to go in their endless pursuit of smothering our liberty is whether we should be allowed to pursue our own deaths. What gives the government the right to decide if you can take your own life?
Brittany Maynard came to national attention last year when she fought a very public battle to have the right to die with dignity.18 Diagnosed with a rare form of terminal brain cancer, Maynard simply wanted to die on her own terms. She was not depressed; she was not being rash or ill informed. Maynard simply wanted to alleviate the suffering of herself and her family. Death is not pretty, and living with a terminal illness is perhaps the most brutal fate one can have. Our society is so concerned with giving inmates on Death Row a humane form of execution, what about the general public? Why can’t Americans have the right to leave this world on our own terms and not as a slobbering, vegetative mess? It is because euthanasia makes a few bureaucrats squeamish? So sorry my death makes you uncomfortable…
Maynard made her choice with considerable thought and care, and she still had to move to Portland to take advantage of Oregon’s Death with Dignity Act, a law that allows doctors to prescribe lethal drugs to patients with less than six months to live (if a second doctor agrees). Currently only California, Oregon, Washington, Vermont, and New Mexico allow for the terminally ill to take their own lives.19 There is a cooling-off period of fifteen days in each state, so no one is allowed to make a decision like this lightly. As difficult and horrifying a choice it is to make, the one saving grace is the person gets to make the decision for herself, which was exactly what Brittany did, and I applaud her for it.
Although Brittany’s final wishes were met, many others around the country are not so lucky, which is just plain sad. I can’t think of a more perverted way for the government to intrude in your life than by forcing you to live through a debilitating chronic condition that physically and mentally wrecks you and your loved ones beyond all recognition. Competent adults are allowed to make other momentous, irrevocable choices like having a sex change or an abortion (for the moment and really only in certain states). People deserve the same control over their own death. It’s my party, and I’ll die if I want to.
Government regulation not only does not make our lives any better, it actually undermines our pursuit of happiness. Studies have shown treating people like babies can turn our brains into pablum. If you take away someone’s free will and ability to use common sense, they start acting like real idiots. If you don’t have to take responsibility for your own actions, it impedes brain development. Think about it: When you were growing up, rational thought didn’t come naturally. It took practice—lots and lots of practice—like any other skill in life, such as learning to read or play the piano.
The bottom line is if you want to be good at anything, you have to be free to do it often and experiment until you get it right. It’s good to fall on your ass a few times when you’re learning to ride a bike. Baby birds learn to fly better when Momma bird isn’t catching their fall, and so do we. We learn faster that way; we’re more careful and deliberate when we know it’s us and us alone who will pay the price if we screw up.
It may sound counterintuitive, but it’s human nature to take more risks if we know we won’t get hurt. Want scientific proof? A geezer named John Adams (not that John Adams), world renowned for his research in risk assessment, has determined that seat belts aren’t as helpful as we’ve been led to believe.20 He studied eighteen different countries with mandated safety belt laws and came to the shocking conclusion that seat belts had no effect on the safety of people and even increased road accident deaths. It’s true. Adams found drivers took more risks when they had seat belts, airbags, and antiskid brakes to protect them.
It stands to reason that if you have a net beneath you on a tightrope, you’re gonna push yourself harder, but try walking on that same tightrope with no net and you’re totally gonna cut down on the number of flips you do.
I’m not suggesting we do away with seat belts entirely. I do think young children should be forced to ride in car seats, because they can’t make a rational choice in the matter. But in terms of the adults in this country, I believe seat belt laws have veered off the Rational Road. If I don’t want to wear a seat belt, why should I be forced to? If I’m willing to take that risk and am not threatening anyone else, why shouldn’t I be allowed to decide for myself? Like Gwen Stefani sang, with a 1920s finger-wave bob, It’s my life. Don’t just walk in.
Life gets messy sometimes. Things come flying out of left field, and we can’t always have on a mitt or a helmet or even a condom. We can’t possibly predict all the thousands of potential scenarios when an individual moves from point A to B, because—sorry, gamers—we don’t live inside a PlayStation where every action has an ascertainable result. To suggest otherwise is insulting to every citizen of this country and to our Founding Fathers, who brilliantly devised a form of government that allowed people to live free and sometimes die through their own choices.
All the regulations we are forced to swallow on a daily basis don’t make us perfectly safe. We’re not robots or computers. We’re all human, and we all make mistakes. Accidents still happen. Children still get hurt on school playgrounds. Surgeons still chop off the wrong leg during surgery. Planes still crash, as do automobiles. Our humanity ensures we will always have errors in judgment, people will always be willfully negligent, and others will even intentionally harm others. Government regulation will never end human error.
Yet in a capitalist country like ours, it will always be in the best interest of a business (or employer) to consider what is in the best interest of their customers (or employees), because that translates into greater revenues. Our nation has reached the maximum saturation level for regulation, but people still get hurt and die in freak accidents. Right now, somewhere in America someone is burning her tongue on scalding hot coffee. Someone else is ingesting half his daily caloric intake by slamming down a supersized soda larger than a bathtub. And guess what? We’re still functioning. Somehow we’re managing to make it through the day.
In the end, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Despite the best intentions of the Dudley Do-Rights in Washington, not to mention the litigators hoping to buy summer homes and matching sailboats in the Hamptons, there are loads of unintended consequences of living in a nanny state. Something’s got to change. But it’s going to take action, not just words. We need to spit out our federally issued pacifiers; it’s not a good look for anyone over the age of two.
“Don’t you think we need some regulation to keep us safe?”
You say: “Of course, but when it comes to regulating things like tattoos and soda, we’ve crossed into an Orwellian nightmare where the nanny definitely doesn’t know best.”
“The nanny state is needed to protect the idiots in this country from themselves.”
You say: “Ever heard of the Darwin Awards? They’re given out to the people who have the stupidest deaths, and you never hear anyone wishing those geniuses are still around, do you?”
You say: “I’m not saying get rid of them; I’m saying get rid of the laws that force adults to wear them—if I want to make like a bug and go splat, who am I hurting but myself?”
“Giant companies aren’t looking out for the best interests of their employees, they’re just trying to turn a profit for the fat cats in power.”
You say: “Don’t you know a happy worker makes the best products? Piss off your people and you can kiss your profits good-bye, fat cats!”
“Why hate on laws that will help our country become less obese? We’re all gonna die of diabetes if we keep slamming down Big Gulps.”
You say: “Even a government-mandated nutrition plan won’t stop the couch-sized couch potatoes from getting their fat on, so why pass laws that will never work?”
“Will you at least admit Bloomberg’s ‘Potty Parity’ law, mandating two public female toilets for every one for men, is a good one?”
You say: “OK, you got me—even though it’s paternalistic as hell, that one I don’t mind! Then again, I’m not a business owner.”