Face the State

By Andrew Ripemoff

Will of the People? What’s That?

When I was a small boy, my mother would say to me, "Andrew, run down to the store and get some eggs." And I would say, "But my name isn’t Andrew. That’s just a pen name." And she would say, "Don’t talk back to me boy. Just get the eggs."

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So I would say, "Ok mommy, but how will I pay for them?" And she’d reply, "Put it on our tab." And I’d scratch my head: "What’s that?" And she’d sigh heavily and explain: "We have a running tab at the store. At the end of the month, the grocer, Mr. Jamison, sends us a bill, and we pay off our tab." And I’d say, "Gosh, that sounds like something right out of an episode of ‘Little House on the Prairie." And she’d respond: "I know, but I figured that using an example of commerce practices typical of rural areas during the late 1800's would be a helpful analogy for this column. Now go get the eggs."

So I’d go to the store and pick up a carton of eggs. Mr. Jamison would put them in a sack and ask me: "Do you want anything else? We could put it on your tab." And this got me excited. "Anything else?" I thought to myself in italics. And I don’t even have to pay for it? Wow! I like this "tab" thing. So I told him, "Sure! Throw some bubble gum in there, and put it on my tab." And Mr. Jamison said, "Okey Dokey Smokey," because he was really creepy that way.

Then he'd ask again, "Anything else son?" and I thought about this and got more excited and told him to toss in a Snickers bar, and he did. And this made me feel so powerful and giddy that by the time I left the grocery store 20 minutes later, I was carrying 54 candy bars, 12 packs of gum, 2 cases of Coors Light and a pack of Marlboros.

Then I walked home, where mom failed to share my enthusiasm over the big score.

"Andrew!" she screamed, "I only told you to buy eggs!" And I replied, "But mommy, my name isn’t Andrew, it’s just a pen -- " And she smacked me on the butt with a spatula before I could finish.

Then she sat me down and laid down the law. "Andrew, my son. TABOR is now in effect." And I asked her what TABOR meant, and she said, "It means the next time you go to the store, you can only buy the essentials. We’re on a budget, so no more wasteful spending."

So a few days passed. Eventually the pain in my bottom subsided and life returned to normal. One morning, mom instructed me to go see Mr. Jamison again for some more eggs, so I did.

At the counter he asked, "Anything else? I could put it on your tab?" And I told him, "No. Mommy says it’s against the rules. I don't have permission."

This brought out a lot of laughter from three people in line behind me, Mr. Ritter, Mr. Buescher, and Mrs. Windels. So I turned and scowled at them and asked, "What’s so funny?"

And they replied: "Permission? You don’t need permission to spend other people’s money." And I said, "Really? What about TABOR?" And they laughed, "Tabor, Schmabor." And I thought about this and asked them: "But what if I get in trouble?"

Mr. Ritter said, "Just spend a lot of time and money defending it." And I replied, "But I can’t afford that." And they said, "Sure you can! Just put the cost on your tab!" And I told them that my mom would get real mad at me; she’d say I went overboard, and they said, "Just keep telling her that you are actually a moderate. Repeat it a lot. And if that doesn’t work, you can always get Ms. Stryker to pay for negative attack ads against your mom."

"Huh?" I said, but they just ignored me, and kept talking. "Look son," said Mrs. Windels, "If she gave you permission to spend money on one thing, it means you have permission to spend money on other things too. Get all you want."

So I took their advice and loaded up with chocolate and pop. Then I bought candy for my friends, and flowers for the pretty girls at school.

When I got home, mom was furious, so I tried to explain to her all the good I was doing. "It’s for the children!" I said, right before she spanked me again with the spatula.

From that point on, I wasn’t allowed to go to the store anymore. In fact, mom sent me to my room to "think about what I had done." And believe me, I did. I thought about Mr. Ritter, Mr. Buescher, and Mrs. Windels, and how unfair it was that they didn’t get punished for not following TABOR. It just wasn’t right.

Fast forward to years later, when I picked up the paper one day to see that a nice lady had made those guys finally follow the rules. It was a judge, and she it laid it on them pretty hard.

I hope she used a spatula.