Be Eye Own!

     As those regular readers of the musings and drooling idiocy of this writer are well aware, Bloody Nib Manor, while being a part of of Edwardian Britain, is, unfortunately, actually located in Southern California in the 21st century. It's not always an easy life to live. It's very difficult to find a proper Norfolk jacket or grey bags, parts for the old Alvis, or proper cook who can make cockie-leeky soup instead of pozole for Sunday dinner (meaning lunch). Life and place march on insisting on taking us with them despite the fact that we've buried ourselves like ticks into the fabric of our world.
     When the lovely Lady Nib's younger brother, Marquess Edward, was a very small child his his sisters, being just awful young chits without the benefit of being raised by a governess with a good, stout leather strap to discipline them, used to tease the Marquess mercilessly. In his frustration with the cruelty that only pretty girls are capable of he would shout out, "Be eye own!" Then the sisters would collapse into helpless laughter while making sure not to soil their petticoats or mess up their curls because they knew what their brother was trying to say was, "Leave me alone!"
     We here at the Manor find ourselves more and more often shouting to the state of California and the citizens of the state, "Be eye own!" We are weary of being governed by a nosy-parkers who think that they can live our lives better than we can while the state cannot even manage to maintain the roads and dams of the state. The infrastructure of the state is falling apart while the governor dreams of a high-speed rail system from Los Angeles to San Francisco that, if ever built, will be used by very few of the citizens. Most people would rather drive on the crumbling highways or fly because the former is cheaper and the latter is faster.
     During the November election there was a  state proposition on the ballot promoted by the awful and panicky Stanton ("I will save you from yourself!") Glantz, America's most well known anti-tobacco crusader and busy-body, that would implement a $2.00 per pack tax on a pack of cigarettes, the proceeds of which were supposed to go to health and education, but actually would go to a bureaucratic unionized and useless bunch of state employees. The tax increase would also apply to e-cigarettes, chewing tobacco and snuff, pipe tobacco and cigars. Part of the argument for the tax increase was saving the "innocent" from second-hand smoke despite the fact that there is no second-hand smoke from e-cigarettes, chewing tobacco or snuff.
     But the voters of the state, being not loath to tax something that may be not especially dangerous to them, but is unaesthetic, voted for the proposition. On other words, using the same lack of logic that they often do, the high-speed rail is an example, voted in favor of the proposition and the result was that on April 1 the cost of a pack of cigarettes went up to about $8.00. And the cost of e-cigarettes and all forms of tobacco went up also because of the tax. The voters saw the tax as a cash cow for the health of the populace, but what they will see is a reduction of revenues because there will be more of the black market products sold. Consider this: If a smoker decides to take a trip to Las Vegas or Reno to gamble why would that person not stock up on a lot of cartons of Marlboros or pounds of Prince Albert to bring back to Seal Beach for his own use and the use of his friends? It happened a week ago. And it will happen more and more.
     Now, be aware that the lovely Lady Nib, Scarlet Woman that she is, is a cigarette smoker, and that your faithful correspondent is a pipe and cigar smoker. We know the dangers of the habit and we accept the hazards of the habit. We just want to be left alone by the state. And because we are responsible citizens and not on the dole in any way, we have private health insurance, so we don't cost the state for our nasty habit. We want to be left alone. We want to leave other people alone. But there are people who just can't keep trying to tell other people how to cook their omelet. And those people should probably be either sent to New York City or hanged from sequoias.