No More Rules Allowed! Wait a Sec! That’s a New Rule!

Texans have never been hell-bent into playing by the rules, much less following them. If you don’t believe me, just watch a Texan exiting the Interstate and blaze through a yield sign at 85 miles per hour.  (It’s a recommendation, right?  Not a hard and fast rule.)  Historically, Texans have always created their own trails, made their own rules on the spot, and broken those same rules with a proud, boisterous grin.  Think about it:  we probably wouldn’t even have a state if we’d been following the rules.  Because it was Mexico at the time.  And Mexican rules didn’t really sit well with our State’s Founders.

But suddenly, and inexplicably, we find ourselves surrounded by rules and regulations on a scale never seen before.

I blame Plaintiff’s lawyers.  And dumb people.  And the makers of Purell.  I mean, honestly, how much hand sanitizing is sane?

Rules have become like a warm blanket to keep us feeling secure at night.  No longer do we throw caution to the wind; these days, we ride bicycles with titanium-infused helmets and drink coffee out of cups insulated with little protective “sleeves.”  (P.S.  We should call these “wimp sleeves.”)

Rules have become so prevalent and outrageous in our society, that people are now spouting them out everywhere for everything.  I understand that some rules are necessary.  Like the rule where you must be at least 42 inches high to ride on Space Mountain, or the rule where pregnant women should not be allowed to drink tequila shooters at Ladies 2 for 1 Night.

However, we’ve gone slightly nuts over the rules.  I don’t know where, when or how it happened, but we’re suddenly ACCEPTING RULES carte blanche as if we actually NEED THEM TO SURVIVE TO THE NEXT MORNING.

I recently boarded a flight (not Southwest.  Thank Goodness the Love Airline still retains a glimmer of Texas bravado.  I once had a pilot dressed as Santa Claus and flight attendants singing and throwing peanuts around the cabin). Let’s just say I boarded another air carrier and, as I was boarding, I had the sheer audacity to be carrying a cup of coffee in my hand.  This coffee did not have a lid, but I was balancing it with all the millions of years of Darwinian evolutionary gifts at my disposal.  The flight attendant asked me if I was in first class.  I happened to be flying in first class due to the miracle of mileage upgrades so I said, “Why yes!  I am in first class.”  At which point a wave of relief washed over her.

She said, “Good.”

I said, “Why is this good?”

She said,  “Because you can’t take a cup without a lid on it into the coach cabin.”

New rule:  No cups without lids for flyers in coach class.  Every flyer in coach must only be drinking from cups with lids and protective sleeves.  And be wearing a bicycle helmet.

Thank Goodness I’d been upgraded or else I would’ve had to ditch my fresh coffee in some hermetically sealed garbage bag wielded by this flight attendant, or possibly been kicked off the flight entirely – who knows?

I wouldn’t have gotten riled up, except for the fact that I’d literally just come to the airport from the mall.  At the mall, I’d encountered ANOTHER RULE.  I’d been browsing inside the Gucci store with a friend of mine.  Yes, I will name names here.  I was with a lovely friend who decided to try on a pair of shoes.  He tried on the shoes and wanted to buy them, but the saleslady informed him that they weren’t available in his size.  At this point, he took his i-Phone out of his pocket and snapped a picture of the shoe saying, “I guess I’ll have to see if they have these at another store in my size.”

The sales lady– we can call her Generalissimo de Gucci – said – and I’m quoting verbatim here, “You’re not allowed to take photos of the shoes.”

To which a tremendous pause was heard throughout the entire store.


(Look, Lady.  This ain’t Beijing.  We aren’t trying to duplicate the Gucci shoe, create a fake, ship it over on a slow boat, and sell them on a street corner in Times Square.  We’re simply trying to remember what the shoe looks like so we can find it at ANOTHER Gucci store.)

The gentlemen with whom I was shopping replied – and this blew my mind – “NO.”

The saleslady said, “What do you mean, No?”

He said,  “That’s not a rule.”

She said,  “Yes, it is.”

He said:, “Call the FBI and let’s find out.”

Okay, he didn’t actually say this last part.  What he did say was, “That’s crazy.  I don’t want these stupid, overpriced shoes anyway.” And then he showed her the photo of the shoe on his iPhone and deleted it right in front of her face.  BAM!

I was flabbergasted at this novel approach to random rule making.  Just Say No. Tell the person that the rule they’re expounding actually doesn’t exist, and perhaps they’ll believe it!

Wake up, folks.  If we continue to accept the status quo with absurd rules, we forsake our own hard-fought, historical independence.
Are we brash, intelligent, fearsome Texans or are we a bunch of simple, dimwitted cattle that need to be herded over to the next green pasture?

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