I went out to a bar the other night to listen to karaoke. Yeah, I do that. For some perverted reason, a young lady near the entrance demanded that I produce identification. Since I am plainly a 72-year-old man in a wheelchair, I felt that this was peculiar and uncalled-for—especially since no other place I go like this makes a similar demand—and if they couldn't tell that I was over 21, they didn't really deserve my custom. The people with me were upset—that I was upset—not that we were all being treated unreasonably.
Life in these post-Progressive times presently consists of obtaining an endless series of permissions from one insatiable and intrusive pseudopod of government or another, "graciously" allowing us to be, do, or have things that were once perfectly human and unquestionable rights. Until this situation is corrected, once and for all, America will remain unhealthy at the core.