Between this statement of Joan Peterson’s regarding “doing something” about guns and cancer screening and who knows what else she thinks the man should tell her she can and can’t do/have/think, and Queen of the Nannies Michael Bloomberg’s latest initiative (this time to ban/restrict alcohol (as opposed to his previous plans to ban salt, trans fat, guns, idling cars, and everything else anyone who lives in his fiefdom dares to enjoy), I started thinking.
And then I remembered Demolition Man, and with it, Denis Leary.
Life imitates art, I suppose.
I want to eat what I want. I want to go to the doctor (or not) as I want.
I want to own what I want.
If I’m not hurting anyone, then the government has no business at all with me. And neither does anyone who wants to bring the force of the government against me to stop me from doing whatever they disapprove of.
Why do I want to do this horrible, horrible things? Trans fat and salt and booze can kill me! People kill other people with guns and knives and a plethora of other dangerous objects!
Because fuck you, that’s why.
You are not the boss of me.
Pithy Title Goes Here 
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