Lord, protect us from the bureaucrats and paper pushers. Save us from the HOAs and the school administrators. Save us from the good-time grumblers and the no-fun fundamentalists.
Too often, people appoint themselves as arbiters of things that are safe, innocuous, and "suitable." And they see it as their mission to make life miserable for everyone else.
Like the preacher from Footloose who hated dancing. Or Baby's father from "Dirty Dancing" who hated Johnny. Or the micro-brains who try to ban books because they don't like reading.
Or, most recently, like the Las Vegas Police Department, who removed a mysterious mirrored monolith that appeared one day near Gass Peak, part of the mountain range near Sin City.
In early July, someone — Pranksters? Aliens? Probably aliens — had installed a 6-foot-4 prism-shaped tower, and the Las Vegas Police Department was having none of it. They rushed into action because the city was jealous that something was more obnoxious and shiny than them.
The monolith was discovered on July 5 by the Las Vegas police search and rescue team, who quickly removed it, claiming public safety and environmental concerns. Because, sure, you don't want a tripping hazard in the middle of nowhere.
Except that wasn't really the reason. The real reason is that the LVPD doesn't want people to enjoy themselves. Here's a dramatization of that meeting.
"Look, Dick, look. See the monolith," said Officer Jane. "The monolith is unusual and different. That is bad. We do not want people to see the bad monolith."
"Yes, Jane. Unusual things are bad," said Officer Dick. "We must take it down so people do not leave the casinos to see the unusual thing."
"Yes, Dick, yes. Let's tell people we took it away so they would be safe."
"Oh, oh. You are so clever. We will tell people we want them to be safe."
And then the two laughed and laughed as their dog, Spot, gnawed on a homeless person.
"It remains unknown how the item got to its location, or who might be responsible," the LVPD said on The Social Network Formerly Known As Twitter.
Or, in Plain English, "We don't know how it got there or who did it."
This is not the first mystery monolith to pop up in the world. And the LVPD wasn't the first to ruin everyone's fun.
In November 2020, a monolith popped up outside Salt Lake City and another in northern Romania. A month later, there was one outside Albuquerque and one between San Francisco and Los Angeles.
In each case, the structures were removed by the police, concerned environmentalists, or in California, a group of fundamentalist Trump supporters wearing Trump gear and spouting their hatred of idolatry.
Interfering busybodies may run rampant in the United States, but it's much worse in the United Kingdom.
That's because true bureaucratic overreach only comes from the Buttinsky region of the UK. Otherwise, it's just sparkling red tape.
This time, the British bureaucratic machine is sticking its nose into people's sandy beach holes. That is, His Majesty's Coastguard* has banned families from digging holes at a Cornish beach near Padstow in southwest England, the part of England that looks like a tail.
(And yes, Coastguard is one word in England, not two. What do you expect from a country that pronounces "lieutenant" as "left-tenant?")
Digging holes is apparently a centuries-old tradition that hearkens back to when the first Viking raiders brought their kids on beach invasions and said, "No ice cream until after lunch! Now go pillage with your sister!"
As a result, many local residents are up in arms about the Coastguard being overreaching busybodies who need to learn to mind their own stupid business.
My words, not theirs.
The offending hole that started the. . . whole thing was an 8-foot deep, 9-foot wide hole that some unknown person — Prankster? Aliens? Probably aliens — had dug out by hand. The hole was so big that they had to call in someone with a digger to fill it in.
Remember when some kid in your class got hurt jumping off the swings so your teacher said no one was ever allowed to jump off the swings ever again? This is like that: the Coastguard recognized the mystery hole as a source of fun and merriment, so they filled it in and banned hole-digging forever.
And to ensure that no one ever dies in a hole of any size, including the one your 3-year-old wants to dig with her tiny bucket and shovel, all holes are strictly forbidden on Cornish beaches by order of His Majesty the King and his Coastguard with their stupid one-word title.
My hope from all these surprising acts of artistic expression is that the aliens who are digging holes and erecting monoliths recognize their chance to send a powerful message.
Next time the no-fun fundamentalists want to stop people from having fun, dancing, or reading certain books, send them a message by sticking a monolith deep inside their beach hole.
Photo credit: Patrickamackie2 (Wikimedia Commons, Creative Commons 4.0)
My new humor novel, Mackinac Island Nation, is finished and available from 4 Horsemen Publications. You can get the ebook and print versions here.