One of my favorite rock groups of the late 1970's, Cheap Trick, had a slightly paranoid hit song "Dream Police". Quite often this suspicion of government spying is the result of a chemically altered state or mental illness. I once mentioned in my political blog hearing a young woman in an upstairs apartment in my last complex scream for help. As I headed for the building entrance I saw the woman's purse and other property strewn down the stairs from the apartment directly above mine. He had chased her out the building, apparently keeping her from leaving in their car. They both spotted me at the front, and she ran in my direction in the rain, pleading me to call the police. She was probably all of 5 feet tall and 100 pounds soaking wet--and sporting a purplish eye swollen shut. The guy was more my height and a sturdy build and tried to convince me to call the police to protect him from her... (I have zero tolerance for violence on women and children.) I waited with the young woman until the police arrived. I don't quite understand the young woman; she didn't want the police to arrest him, just give him a stern warning. She insisted he was a good guy most of the time but he only got this way on drugs. She explained drugs make him crazy and she was trying to get him to stop: he was obsessed that the FBI was spying on him and that I and their upstairs neighbor were in a conspiracy to gas his apartment.
But sometimes it's not one's imagination. In my last post I described Rainbow Acres, a small Pennsylvania Amish farmer Dan Allgyer busted by the feds for smuggling raw milk, a nutritionally superior product, into Maryland and Washington DC.
The Daily has an interesting video report (which you can watch in a separate browser tab or window). The tongue-in-cheek reporter is embedded in yet another nefarious conspiratorial Amish operation to sell quality, wholesome raw milk in New York City to willing, knowledgeable consumers. Notice the firearms raised against the famously non-violent Amish sellers. (No doubt when they did a pre-dawn raid on the Amish farm, they must have said, "Sir, take your hand off the teat, and back slowly away from the cow." I suspect on the long ride back, they must have gotten thirsty and drank the delicious evidence.)
The Daily has an interesting video report (which you can watch in a separate browser tab or window). The tongue-in-cheek reporter is embedded in yet another nefarious conspiratorial Amish operation to sell quality, wholesome raw milk in New York City to willing, knowledgeable consumers. Notice the firearms raised against the famously non-violent Amish sellers. (No doubt when they did a pre-dawn raid on the Amish farm, they must have said, "Sir, take your hand off the teat, and back slowly away from the cow." I suspect on the long ride back, they must have gotten thirsty and drank the delicious evidence.)
Yesterday there was a high-profile Rally for Food and Farm Freedom focusing on the raw milk; for a particularly well-written post on the rally, see Franklin Taggart's post; he has been a Rainbow Acres customer for years and firmly believes Farmer Allgyer's food products have made a positive difference in helping overcome past health issues. Ron Paul (R-TX), before his recently announced Presidential bid, filed HR 1830, the Unpasteurized Milk Bill...
Just in case you think the two raids are exaggerated out of context, Grassfed on the Hill has a more detailed listing of recent small farm raids available here. Another key source in the battle of culinary choice, is Keep Food Legal.
Of course, Big Nanny somehow allows consumers to buy raw fish, raw eggs, raw vegetables, raw nuts and raw meat, and I'm unaware of any sushi bars being busted. Coming from a lower middle-class family, I never never encountered dishes like steak tartare; I remember just arriving as a new UWM faculty member; Dr. Haseman was hosting a reception for his doctoral student's successful defense of his dissertation. (If Dr. Scamell had a party after my graduation, the point would have been my not being there...) I was startled to find a huge mound of ground round steak with plates of sliced onions and slices of white bread. I was told it was a well-known Milwaukee tradition (I believed they called it a "scavenger sandwich.) I had eaten raw ground beef before, but I was on a Boy Scouts campout, and it had rained so much overnight, we couldn't get a fire started...
Of course, the government's zealous micromanagement of foods doesn't just extend to raw food or to the federal government: one has to cope with multiple business licenses, health department inspections, taxes, zoning laws, etc., all of which serve to restrict entrepreneurial food vendors. Consider this segment from a Mother's Day rant I wrote for my political blog:
What Is Threatening to Bureaucrats About Lemonade Stands?
Remember when I posted last August about a sweet 7-year-old girl from Oregon, Julie Sweeney? She was trying to sell lemonade for 50 cents a glass. She ended up getting bullied by health inspectors (despite the fact she wore gloves and kept things covered) and by other bureaucrats for not having a business license, risking hundreds of dollars in fines...
Nicolas Martin, an Indianapolis native, wrote an LA Times op-ed of his experience trying to guide his 8-year-old daughter through the quintessential childhood business. Lemonade Day started in Houston on May Day 4 years ago and has grown to some 28 cities, last year involving some 38,000 students (just in Houston) raising a million dollars for charity. His property borders a busy urban trail on weekends operated by the park division. Martin and his daughter considered the possibility of her operating an exclusive, profitable location for passing cyclists, pedestrians, and rollerbladers, maybe giving her a chance to put aside some savings for her college fund.
It turns out Indianapolis does participate in Lemonade Day--but only on May Day and only in specially designated areas. To do it at any other day or location may expose the child (or, more likely, his or her parents) to stiff fines or even jail time: Martin went through a 3-day odyssey involving or researching the park division, health division, zoning laws, building and vending licenses, taxes... Chances are, nobody would like the bad publicity of enforcing these laws on kids, but the veto complaint of even one killjoy would likely bring out the enforcement goons. Martin didn't even get anywhere with Lemonade Day organizers, suggesting these considerations provide a learning experience of having to deal with government burden. So Martin had to surrender to the powers that be, fighting to compete, along with dozens or hundreds of other stands along a limited stretch of the parks (because surely people will get thirsty just in one stretch of the park). (Does the faithful reader remember my favorite anecdote of the lost quarter?)
I don't mean to rain on the May Day parade, but isn't it time we decriminalize neighborhood lemonade stands? And I don't mind charity drives, but isn't it time we stop demonizing for-profit businesses? (I understand Obama must love this idea about picking and choosing how and where to operate lemonade businesses--and spreading the wealth around. I bet he has a 2000-page plan for operating a stand...)
If kids can earn a few bucks mowing lawns or shoveling snow, why can't they sell cookies and lemonade without being hassled by pushing-on-a-string petty bureaucrats (no doubt justifiably in a panic over those urban legends of mass illnesses resulting from rank child-sold lemonade...) If I was a city administrator, the very first thing I would cut would be the self-important civil servants with all that extra time on their hands to go around busting child entrepreneurs...
There are some signs of progress even in (gasp!) Washington, DC. (The local government, not the federal.) I'm speaking, of course, of food trucks, constantly harassed in places like New York where it becomes next to impossible for new food entrepreneurs to obtain necessary permits, licenses, etc. Look at the long line to get $15 lobster rolls in the following Reason.com video:
