Generally speaking, laws are designed to protect the public from harm. Generally speaking, harm is seen as physical peril: Generally speaking, physical peril is not a particularly interesting subject. True, there are those laws which endeavor to shield the public from financial disaster. Truer still, financial disaster occurs anyway. And truest of all, the public is not a particularly interesting group.
Thus our system of law is something less than captivating, for it consistently fails to deal with the three questions of greatest concern. The three questions of greatest concern are:
One can see at a glance that these three questions not only encompass all contingencies covered by the present system but, more importantly, they confront without flinching the genuine hazards of modern life. They are therefore the only possible basis for any reasonable system of justice. And henceforth they shall be regarded as such. If you must reply in the negative to any of these questions you are committing an illegal act. For the purposes of clarity I shall consider each question separately, although it should be quite apparent that they are all three as brothers.
When I was in grammar school it was customary at the beginning of each year for the teacher to explain the principle of individual freedom in a democracy by stating: “Your right to swing your arm ends where the other person’s nose begins.” An admirable sentiment—unquestionably. But one somehow lacking in that little something extra that makes it all worthwhile.
Quite simply, it misses the point. I, for one, would much rather be punched in the nose than in the sensibility. And so I offer this in its stead: “Your right to wear a mint-green polyester leisure suit ends where it meets my eye.” Should you choose to disregard this dictate you shall be arrested for bad taste.
In order to administer to all of the worms that will come crawling out of this hitherto unopened can there will be appointed a Commissar of Good Looks who shall issue a manifesto detailing the following offenses:
A. The Construction of Buildings That Look Like Gigantic Electric Shavers.
B. Television Commercials and Magazine Advertisements That Use Real People Instead of Models.
C. Cigarettes That Come in a Choice of Colors: If White Ones Were Good Enough for Edward R. Murrow They’re Good Enough for You.
D. Ice Cubes That Come in a Choice of Shapes: Flowers Belong in One’s Lapel, Not in One’s Bourbon.
E. Airports That Have Fallen into the Hands of Graphic Designers with a Penchant for Bold Simplicity.
F. Furniture Made to Resemble Objects That Were Played with by Small Children in the Nineteen-Forties.
G. Long-sleeved T-Shirts Stenciled to Look Like Dinner Jackets and Invariably Worn by Those Who Would Have Occasion to Wear a Dinner Jacket Only While at Work.
The penalty for those responsible for any of the above-mentioned crimes shall be ninety days spent in the company of the inventor of the male centerfold or seventy-two months in Los Angeles—whichever comes first.
Once upon a time, long, long ago, people wanted to be well spoken. Those capable of an elegant turn of phrase were much admired. Wit was in great demand. It was the day of the epigram.
Time went on, and by and by it came to pass that people were chiefly interested in being well liked. Those capable of a firm handshake were much admired. Friendliness was in great demand. It was the day of the telegram.
Presently it appears that people are mainly concerned with being well rested. Those capable of uninterrupted sleep are much admired. Unconsciousness is in great demand. This is the day of the milligram.
Far be it from me to make noise while you’re asleep but I should like to notify you that you are under arrest for being boring. The Commissar of a Way with Words suspects you of one or more of the following:
A. Rather Than Attempt the Art of Conversation You Prefer to Communicate with Your Fellow Man by Hugging Strangers Who Are Reliving the Bad Parts of Their Childhood While Immersed in a Swimming Pool Filled with Warm Water.
B. You Think That the Women’s Liberation Movement Does Have a Sense of Humor.
C. You Use in Conversation Phrases That Appear on T-Shirts.
D. You Share David Susskind’s Apparently Inexhaustible Interest in the Private Lives of Deservedly Unknown Homosexuals.
E. You Feel the Need to Discuss Your Innermost Thoughts on a Weekly Basis with Six Other People, One of Whom Is Being Paid to Listen.
F. You No Longer Feel the Need to Discuss Your Innermost Thoughts on a Weekly Basis with Six Other People, One of Whom Is Being Paid to Listen, Because You Feel That Erica Jong Has Said It All for You.
G. The Letters est Have Meaning for You Beyond Eastern Standard Time.
H. You Are the Host of a Television Talk Show Who So Firmly Believes That Everyone in the Whole World Is Just About to Play Las Vegas for Two Weeks That You Introduce Your Next Guest as “Dr. Jonas Salk—a Beautiful Guy.”
Should you be found guilty you shall be sentenced to a one-year subscription to Psychology Today or seventy-two months in Los Angeles—whichever comes first.
Under the jurisdiction of the Commissar of What Is Appropriate the adage “A place for everything and everything in its place” has been broadened to include “A place for everyone and everyone in their place.” You are not in your place or are responsible for something not being in its place if you are to blame in any of these instances:
A. You Are a Man Who Attends Consciousness-raising Meetings.
B. You Are a Woman Who Attends Consciousness-raising Meetings.
C. You Are a Dog and You Live in New York, Probably in My Neighborhood.
D. You Are an Army Camouflage Combat Uniform Being Worn by Someone Who Is Not a Soldier in Southeast Asia.
E. You Are Wall-to-Wall Carpeting and You Are in the Bathroom.
F. You Are on Your Way over to My Apartment and You Have Not Called First.
G. You Write Poetry and You Are Not Dead.
Those convicted of any of the above-mentioned crimes shall be subject to being either a dessert served in a brandy snifter or seventy-two months in Los Angeles—whichever comes first.