Wax My Nuts

The Philadelphia Daily News, an organization that prides itself in highlighting the repugnant on-goings in other cities so as to mollify the real image people have of Philadelphia as an unlivable cesspool, has published an article last week about a New Jersey initiative to ban Brazilian Waxing. Folks in Jersey, having clearly tackled all the really big problems, like, well, the misery of having to live in New Jersey, are actually using words like 'statute' and 'genital waxing' in the same sentence, and somehow managing to maintain a stoic composure.

The ban is being proposed by the New Jersey State Board on Cosmetology and Hairstyling. The what? They actually have that? Does every state have of a Board on Cosmetology and Hairstyling? Is there an official abbreviation for it, like NJSBCH, or C&H board? This is absolute foolishness. The NJSBCH (http://www.state.nj.us/lps/ca/nonmedical/coshair.htm) actually falls under the NJ Department of Law and Public Safety. Yeah, they're the folks you have to go to in order to obtain a license to be a barber, or beautician. Yeah, I said that. You have to have a license to cut hair. Now maybe you, the reader, may be aware of this, and maybe it's more common than I think throughout the other states, but it's still stupid. It's hhhaaaaiiiiirrrr! It's not a bulldozer or a supertanker. The actual law for this is Title 45, Cosmetology and Hairstyling N.J.S.A. 45:2D-1 to 45:2D-18.

Under current law, waxing of the face, neck, arms, legs, and abdomen are legal. Since not specifically mentioned in the statute, a full Brazilian is technically not legal, hence the effort to ban it outright. I can't believe I just typed the previous sentence with a straight face. How in a stone of crows did a state legislature, under the scrutiny of anything more intelligent and powerful than a pair of lesbian sugar gliders, manage to pass a law having ANYTHING to do with removing hair from one's body? If ever there was a more compelling reason to avoid driving through NJ, and thus avoiding a penny of my money going towards taxes that are enabling this kind of jack-assery, I've not seen it. And, yes, I know; the state I live in probably has it's own version of the NJSBCH and I just don't know it, so don't bother pointing that out. I'll just pretend it doesn't exist—much like the ravenous bugblatter beasts of Trall, which believe that if you can't see them, they can't see you. [Douglas Adams, HHG2G]

While I'm typing this, I have a browser window up with the webpage to the C&H board. I'm tempted to start poking around in the other Department pages to see what other fourberie councils of public largess are lurking in there. Is there a State Board of Disco and Dry-humping? How about the Council for the Weights and Measures of Distributed Table Sugar? I don't know if I really want to see how far down this rabbit hole I can go.

Silliness aside, here's the real problem, and as much as it pains me to say it, it has nothing to do with NJ: Occupational Law-making. See, if I make my living as a farmer, I have keep raising crops to get paid. If I'm a used car salesmen, I need to sell the cars on the lot to justify my paycheck. If I'm a proctologist, I need to shove a pipe up someone's pooper four times a day to pay for that new Mercedes. If I'm a lawmaker, I'd better stay lock-step with other lawmakers in the incessant production of laws if I want to earn a living. And there it is. Laws become products. The legislature produces them...and they won't...ever....fucking....stop. It's the ultimate self-licking ice cream cone.

I need more laws in my life like I need a rash on my right butt cheek. Legislators should be like volunteer firemen. Just go on about their normal lives; working at the deli, selling books at the all-Christian book store, reconciling the obituaries with the next edition of the phone book, etcetera. In the mean time, the state is humming along on all its laws until HOLY SHIT, we have an issue and a law that doesn't address it! Call the lawmakers! They all race to the statehouse in their Priuses and Hummers, hammer out some hard-hitting statutes that codify that pesky loose end, and then back to work. Instead, our capitol buildings, like steaming factories, churn day in and day out (while in session) belching out law after law, slowly but surely destined to regulate every aspect of human life. There are already laws to tell me where I can walk, how my dog can poop, what I can put in my trash can, where I can smoke, and how many times per hour my business' digital sign can change its message. (Tucson, AZ.....no shit) With our occupational legislators and their constant machinations, I have not doubt than by the time I'm 90, there's going to be a law that says men over 89 can't have a glass of scotch and a copy of Hustler in order to safe guard my ticker. I'll try to get my whole head in front of the shotgun; which will probably already be illegal.

©Raymond Smith- 2009