we could round up and haul off in a paddy wagon.
For example, we could have an ugly patrol.
“I’m sorry, sir, but you’ll have to come with me downtown.”
“But what’s the charge, Officer?”
“You’re in violation of the city’s ugly ordinance. Nobody with a big nose, ears that poke out, or, in your case, is cross-eyed, can be on the streets before dark.”
I’d like to see a cliché patrol, too. If there’s anything I can’t stand it’s people who use clichés.
Anybody who says, “Have a nice one,” “Hot enough for you?,” “So how’s the wife?,” or “You know” more than five times in any sentence could cool their heels in the slammer for a few days.
I’d get people off the streets whose clothes don’t match, too.
“Spread ‘em, Sucker,” a member of the GQ patrol might say, “that tie does not go with that jacket you’re wearing. It’s vermin like you that give civilization a bad name.”
Maybe we could also have a jerk patrol. Think how much better life would be if we didn’t have to put up with people who do jerky, annoying things like drive forty in the passing lane, talk loudly in a movie theater, or throw their gum on the sidewalk for some innocent, law-abiding citizen to step on.
People who sneeze as they sit on the stool next to you while you’re eating a bowl of soup in a diner, who bring large cassette players onto public conveyances and play music to have a nervous breakdown by, who play slowly on a golf course, who get into the express lane at grocery stores with more than twelve items, who don’t put their hand over their heart when the national anthem is being played, who don’t use deodorant, have a bad case of dandruff and idiotic ideas you don’t agree with.
I don’t know why somebody didn’t think of using the police to get rid of all our social warts and blemishes before. It’s worked in other countries—so why not here?
As Mayor Koch says, “Up against the wall, you redneck mother.”
On Water Patrol
They were talking about those poor souls in Wheeling, West Virginia, on the news.
Residents are being urged to conserve water, the announcer said, and not to take baths or showers. P.U.
There was that million-gallon diesel oil spill that got into the Ohio River and eventually oozed its way down to Wheeling, cutting off the city’s water supply.
Most of us have never been in a shortage-of-water situation, and we figure we never will.
Turn on the faucet, there’s water. There always has been, there always will be.
But I have a different viewpoint.
I grew up in a family where water conservation was a way of life. I still cringe when I see pictures of Niagara Falls. The whole thing looks to me like somebody is wasting a lot of good water.
My family got its water from a well. I don’t know much about wells, but ours was a Corvair.
“We’re going to have to be careful with water,” my mother must have said a million times, “the well’s low.”
I always knew ahead of time when the well was getting low. When you turned on a faucet, a hissing, blowing, belching sound would emerge, followed by two or three drops of water of a distinct brown hue.
Here are my family’s water-conserving rules:
1 Never leave a faucet dripping. The penalty for failing to adhere to the first rule: My mother would yell at you, “How many times have I told you not to leave a faucet dripping? If you had lived through the Depression like I did, you would understand these things.”
2 Use the absolute minimum amount of water for your bath. My mother, on constant water patrol, would burst unannounced into the bathroom, and if the water in our tub covered your little toe, she would launch into a lecture on gas rationing during World War II.
3 Never flush the toilet more than once per use. My mother was so strict on this one, I still get a thrill out of staying in a hotel room where I can flush the toilet as many times as I please.
As a matter of fact, I have more respect and appreciation for water than anybody else I know. My background obviously is the reason for this.
Nothing makes my day like a shower with strong water pressure. A shower with a mere trickle makes me consider joining a terrorist group.
I love a cold glass of ice water the first thing in the morning. It puts out any fires still smoldering from the night before.
I love rinsing off my face with warm water after shaving. The skin tingles, the eyes open, bring on the world.
If it weren’t for water, I couldn’t make coffee in the morning, and scotch drinkers would be even more obnoxious than they already are.
If it weren’t for water, Seve Ballesteros, a foreigner, would have won the Masters golf tournament a few years ago, keeping Jack Nicklaus from his heroic and nostalgic victory.
All I’m trying to say is, we occasionally should consider just how precious water is. Wheeling, West Virginia, now knows.
Nothing like a citywide outbreak of B.O. to drive that point home.
2.
Fashion Tips
Dress Codes that Need Decoding
While actress Whoopi Goldberg was in Atlanta recently for her one-woman show, she stayed at the downtown Ritz Carlton Hotel.
She was refused entrance to the Ritz restaurant, however, because she didn’t look like the Ritz thinks you ought to look when you eat in one of their hotels.
Let’s just say that Whoopi will never make the cover of Mademoiselle.
I often have wondered why restaurants and bars are so picky about how somebody looks or dresses when they come in and offer their business.
Take the sign that says NO SHIRT, NO SHOES, NO SERVICE.
Does this mean as long as I have on a shirt and shoes I can take off my pants and still get the bacon cheeseburger?
The least they could do in a restaurant with a sign like that is to say, “You can’t come in without your shirt or shoes, but I’ll take your order if you’ll just wait outside while it’s cooking.”
I’ve never been fond of the sign that says GENTLEMEN ARE REQUIRED TO WEAR JACKET AND TIES.
I’ve always figured restaurants have rules like that to make certain they don’t get any riffraff.
But some very riffraffy people wear ties. Ed Meese. Jimmy Swaggart. Al Capone wore ties, didn’t he?
I don’t know
