It may not be very obvious, but this is a picture of the jackknifed tractor-trailer which held up untold numbers of people - including myself - on I-26W earlier today. A number of other vehicles appeared to be involved. This was all due to a snowstorm which appeared to come from nowhere as I headed back to Johnson City, Tennessee from north Atlanta. Now I’m stuck in Mars Hill, North Carolina, apparently surrounded by icy mountain roads to the north and south.

So what’s a guy in his mid-20s to do when faced with such a situation? How should I pass my time? I didn’t really know, but I was pretty sure that beer should be involved. With that in mind, I headed to what appeared to be the only grocery store in town.

But my search turned up empty. Nothing. No beer. No wine. Certainly no liquor. In a college town, no less. Many of you may not understand why, but those of you in the southeastern U.S. and small towns across the country have undoubtedly caught on: Mars Hill is located in Madison County, North Carolina, and Madison County is as dry as a martini — and they’ve got the alcoholics to prove it.

This isn’t that big a deal, mind you. I don’t really care about being deprived of booze. I don’t really drink that often in the first place. But what irritates the hell out of me is the fact that the temperance movement has yet to relinquish its grip on so many areas of the United States, and no one seems to care.

Here’s another example of often-ignored government intrusion: It’s New Year’s Eve, and at 5:30pm I’m standing in line at the Pharmacy counter at my local grocery store in Cumming, Georgia. I have in my possession a bag of Bertoli’s frozen Chicken Parmigiana & Penne mix, a box of allergy medicine, and a bottle of Korbel Brut.

No, I don’t have a prescription to pick up. I’m in line because the all-knowing Georgia State Legislature - as well as the federal government - has decreed that anyone wishing to purchase cold medicine must first present identification to the pharmacist making the sale. The laws are intended to violate the right of free individuals to engage in certain types of activities - such as the production, sale, and use of methamphetamines - by violating the right of free individuals to engage in certain types of commerce - such as the sale of cold medicine people such as myself who have never used drugs and never will.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, my intent to purchase alcohol on a Sunday was met with a disapproving reaction from a cashier shortly afterward: “Sorry, I can’t sell you that today” was his well-rehearsed (and I do mean well-rehearsed - it was New Year’s Eve, and he had certainly told countless others the same thing) way of saying “The Georgia State Legislature does not allow you to purchase alcohol for off-site consumption on the Sabbath. If you wish to drink, please do so at a bar so that you can later attempt to drive home while intoxicated at 3am and kill several of your fellow citizens in the process. After all, we can’t have people sinning, can we?”

A bit much, you say? “Oh, c’mon, Sean! Don’t be stupid. It’s just a damn box of cold medicine and some booze. Who cares?”

And that’s the problem.

Once you acquiesce to the idea that the government should be allowed to invade certain areas of private life - like preventing your neighbors from consuming or selling certain substances - it’s much easier to allow it to invade others. With respect to methampheatmines, this slide into the abyss is almost humorous: The government makes the production of methamphetamines illegal, spending God only knows how much money every year to enforce its stupidity. Then, when it becomes obvious that its efforts are failing miserably, it decides to invade yet another area of private life: Commerce between two entities, neither of which has any interest in drug abuse. When the meth cooks finally figure out a way around the system (and believe me - they will), additional restrictions will be put in place. Maybe a ban on lava lamps. Or distilled water. Or ephedrine-producing plants. The list goes on…

Blue laws (i.e., laws which prohibit certain activities on Sunday) are another matter. Here, we see legislation set in place back in the quasi-theocratic days prior to or immediately after our country’s founding. While it has become increasingly difficult to find someone who will actually argue in favor of their maintenance, it is by no means impossible. Take, for example, this passage from bluelaws.net:

The purpose of BlueLawsNET (A Sunday observance watchdog group based in New Jersey) is to inform and promote individual, family and national observance of Sunday. To help the community find their voice again. To instruct others of the obligation of the day and at the same time observing the day as a delight.

Now, if I were unaware of its origin, I might say “That’s cool. Go for it.” I would at least be apathetic about their efforts. They even use the term “individual”, of which I am quite fond. What they don’t mention is that they seek to achieve these goals at the barrel of a gun. The right wing, while quick to denounce many forms of economic invasion by the government, behaves like a fifteenth century Sultan of Brunei when alcohol is involved. They are the moral compass to which we are all obligated (the religious right will say that God is, but this is simply more evidence of a long-held identity crisis which has rendered them blind to the difference between themselves and the Almighty).

So I am making a new year’s resolution: I will remain perpetually irritated about and hostile toward all forms of immoral government intrusion into my life, no matter how trivial they may seem to be. Every time I buy a box of Sudafed or am unable to buy alcohol due to the laws of whatever municipality I happen to be in, I will remember that surrendering to the state some of the rights which naturally belong to us as individuals makes it progressively easier to surrender other, more important ones. This is, if anything, a tactic useful in avoiding the apathy toward government intrusion which has apparently infected most of my fellow citizens.

To summarize, in 2007, remember: It starts with the little things. There are no little things.

Happy New Year!