The Name of the Game is Woof

As of this writing, libertarian activist Pete Eyre sits in jail in New Hampshire (“Man arrested in courtroom,” Keene Sentinel, Jan. 25).

Eyre is charged with “disorderly conduct” (for wearing a hat after being told not to wear a hat by a clown with a shiny badge and an inflated sense of self-importance) and “resisting arrest” (for declining to assist in his own abduction by other clowns with shiny badges and inflated senses of self-importance).

It just goes to show you how far America has come in its march toward racial equality. It may have taken fifty years, but we overcame! Now we’re all entitled, regardless of skin color or area of residence, to live in Bull Connor’s Birmingham, Alabama circa 1960.

But hat-wearing and passivity in the face of brutality, even magically transmuted into criminal charges, don’t explain Eyre’s continued incarceration. To understand that, we have to look to the fetishes of a guy with a black robe and, you guessed it, an inflated sense of self-importance.

It seems that a judge in Keene, New Hampshire has taken an intense interest in pet obedience training, and wants Eyre to speak on command like a dog earning a treat. Eyre’s in jail, per the newspaper account, “because he refused to give his name.”

One need not oppose the state on principle to observe just how absurd that is.

If Eyre stands accused of a crime or crimes, the US Constitution and the Constitution of New Hampshire — the charters from which the court he faces allegedly derives its authority — say that he can’t be compelled to testify against himself.

If, on the other hand, Eyre doesn’t stand accused of a crime, then his name is none of the court’s business.

Yet there Pete Eyre sits, behind bars.

Sit! Roll over! Speak! Rule of law? That’s sooooooooo 1789.

In other news, Michigan police say they fear a “war on cops.” I can’t imagine why.