Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Crazy Georgia

It's the first day of summer, and we Georgia residents are being treated to yet another day in the mid 90's. That's all well and good for lifetime residents of the state, but pasty Scottish types like myself, are forced to stay indoors for fear that we may explode in the blistering heat, or, worse yet, risk looking like that shiny vampire dude should we ever dare remove our shirts.

It's really hard to complain about the weather here, it's that good, but there are other things, strange laws, that make Georgia living a little kooky. I am a man who is strictly blue collar, and I enjoy the less finer things in life, such as beer, gambling, tattoos, and public nudity (I have to show off my less visible body art). Lawmakers here don't make it easy to do the fun stuff. There are no Sunday beer sales allowed, that is unless you go to a bar. So, to be clear, I can walk to my local liquor store, only to find it closed, but pop into the bar situated next door, and get completely pantsed.....makes sense. Sports gambling is illegal, yet I can play at least one lottery every day of the week here. I kinda understand that these two laws are in place to protect family values and the sanctity of biblical life here in the South, but as an atheist, shouldn't I be able to take my hard earned cash down to the booze shop, polish off a 24 pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon, then place a 10 dollar bet on the Raiders to win the Super Bowl? (actually when I read that out loud, those do seem like poor life choices)

There are some stranger, less known laws on the books in Georgia though. All sex toys are banned. WOW!! How is the average male supposed to please his lady without using his ass blaster 3000? It should be noted that this law has not been enforced since 1968, and is now deemed archaic. (I was born in 67. Coincidence? I think not). It is illegal to use profanity in front of a dead body. I know myself well, and if I am out for a Sunday stroll (to the bar) and I stumble across a dead body, I am not going to say, "Gee whizz, a decomposing corpse is in my way. What should I do? I am at my wit's end." It is more likely to be, "Je$%s H. fuc***g Ch#^$t on a flying fuc*ly broomstick, it's a bas***d dead body, I think I just s**t myself." This outburst has nothing to do with poor breeding or a small vocabulary, I curse when I get scared, or happy, or sad, or.....I curse a lot, you get the picture. It is also against the law to keep a donkey in a bathtub.....I have no words for this, not even foul ones, it's just that weird.

On the bright side, it is looking more and more as though Sunday booze sales may eventually be legal here, with a number of cities voting on it shortly. I complain, but I rarely drink on Sundays as I am usually hungover from Saturday, and I just stick, literally, to the couch, trying to remember where I was and why I swallowed a mouthful of cotton.


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