The Republican running as an independent here in Blue Arlington won handily in the special election, 57% to 41%. The remaining votes were me and the Wiccans.

We tried, but could not prevail. Some folks are apparently pretty upset with what is going on in the County: the last openly Republican candidate elected to the Council was in a special election back in 1999.

Democrats took note of the defeat and resolved to swamp the guy who won the right to serve out the last few months of the seat on the County Council that was vacated by someone who probably realized they were about to be indicted for something.

He might not have known what he did was illegal. I mean, the concept of being guilty of something is getting to be a familiar thing these days. I was vaguely aware of the concept, but Jon-without mentioned it as a fun fact at Willow last night.

It had been a good day- a little chilly, but the buds are coming out, flowers coming up, and it was a lovely day with more to come.

“Spring is going to last about three days this year,” growled Old Jim. Jon-without and TLB were sitting on the far side of Old Jim. He and I were out of sorts about taxes.

Jim does his by hand, Old School, and I do mine via Turbo Tax, though I think I may have to request an extension and see if there is any way I can legally reduce the eye-watering tax bill. The increase in tax rates, the severance package from losing my job, and the unexpected (and undesired) pay-out of a secondary retirement account, coupled with the loss of the mortgage deduction on the condo I sold last year to cut expenses resulted in….well, you can imagine.

Jon-without said: “I read that the average American commits three felonies a day.”

“What?” I said. “I have never intentionally broken a law in my life. All my felonies would be purely inadvertent.”

“Doesn’t matter. Do you have a gun in your Go Bag?”

“Well, yeah, that is what a go-bag is for. I have a permit. It’s legal.”

“Ever drive to the District or Maryland?”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I almost always remember to take it out before I go where it is not legal.”

“Well, there you go. Case closed. I was reading a great book by a lawyer named Harvey Silvergrate about that. It is pretty amazing.”

“Three felonies? Jeeze. That is all I need.”

“Silvergrate is an ACLU guy,” growled Jim, taking a sip of Bud. “Harvard Law. Worked with Alan Dershowitz. I would rely on his legal opinion.”

“Crap.”

Jon-without adjusted his bow tie and took a pull on his raspberry vodka and soda. “Citizens from all walks of life—doctors, accountants, businessmen, political activists, and others—have found themselves the targets of federal prosecutions, despite sensibly believing that they did nothing wrong, broke no laws, and harmed not a single person.”

“Well, I went to the Commissary today and did my taxes. If I had not taken the go-bag out of the trunk and inadvertently entered a wrong number in Turbo Tax, I could have been charged with weapons violations on a Federal enclave and tax fraud.”

“Doesn’t that seem sort of strange for a generally law abiding citizen?”

“They can’t get all of us,” I said. “There are too many people trying to live their lives.”

“That is Silvergrate’s main point. We are violating laws and regulations we don’t even know about. There is a woman he wrote about who got two years for selling lobsters in plastic wrap.”

“You gotta be shitting me.”

“True fact. The lady’s name is Diane Huang, and she got named on a Lacey Act violation.”

“What the hell is that?”

“It is a law that makes it illegal to violate “any foreign law,” whether you knew about it or not.”

“Ignorance is no excuse,” growled Jim. “Not a good defense, as I know altogether too well.”

“There are a raft of those things,” said Jon-without. “Wire Fraud, Computer fraud, Obstruction of Justice, even cyber bullying.”

“I don’t do anything like that,” I said indignantly.

“Doesn’t matter. The laws are written so poorly that they are completely subjective in application. For example, you blog, right?”

“Well, that’s what people call it. I think it is just a letter to my pals.”

“Sorry. If someone takes offense- say the Wiccan-American community, they could accuse you of cyber-bullying.”

“No one even knows exactly what that is,” I said defensively. “But you are right. They keep talking about new speech crimes that are caused by “triggers,” and “being offended.” The latest was some professor at Rochester Institute of Technology who wants to have people skeptical of catastrophic anthropomorphic global warming locked up as criminals.”

“There you go,” said Jon-without. “At least three felonies a day.”

“OK,” I said, “I take your point. But Jim, you ran for Governor of Nevada one time, didn’t you?”

“Yep. Good experience.”

“OK, put on your Governor’s hat. What do you do about Rancher Bundy and his stand off with the Feds over his cattle, Federal lands and the Desert Tortoise?”

Jim made a church steeple out of his hands, very thoughtful, or was offering up his thanks to the long-neck brown bottle in front of him. “I will have to talk about that tomorrow,” he said. Willow is closed for a private affair, so it will have to be on the newly-opened patio, or at Julio’s next door.

“I can’t wait,” I said, taking a deep pull of happy hour white, and thought about the number of felonies that might wait on the way home.

Copyright 2014 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
Twitter: @jayare303