Auto mechanics and glass houses

In the interest of “fairness” I must confess; my family and I are lawbreakers. It’s best to be up front about it before Mr. Horne and Mr. Madsen hold us before the city council and besmirch our very character.

First, our home is not located in an area zoned for business, and no one in the family has a valid business license. Yet we seem to have persevered in small enterprises requiring both. My sister will be devastated, her life in ruin, branded a tax evader after babysitting for family and friends. Perhaps, my brother will be on par with Al Capone for not declaring income after shoveling our 80-year-old neighbor’s driveway. Because I can drive family and friends cheaper than a cab company, I must surely be guilty of operating a livery service without a livery endorsed license, because some petty minded, over-priced, taxi owner with a poor reputation for customer satisfaction will goad the city council into making a criminal of me.

Mr. Horne, with his professed abiding care for community welfare, is starting to sound like Becky Billups. He holds himself up as a model citizen and thrusts forth righteous indignation to assuage the true nature of vindictive personal grievances. In casting aspersions upon Donovan Picard, or anyone helping family and friends, he is attacking what is decent in human beings, and the backbone of civil society that endures despite pettiness, mammon and government.

There is a saying: “People who live in glass houses should not throw stones.” I recall negotiating a sizable auto repair bill at MPH. Something about overlooking the “governor’s” share with a cash payment for parts and labor. The testimony of a law breaker doesn’t hold much weight in the eyes of the law. If Chief Hunt wonders if I would testify, in all fairness, I’d have to say, “sign me up.”

L.B. Lohne