Terry Frank reports on the bizarre lengths our state goes to harrass smokers (I know, I know, that stuff is also in there, but you know riding the illegal immigrant issue is her thing, and yes, I know, she’d be more fun if riding illegal immigrants were her thing).
For those of you who’ve never been to Tennessee or thought much about Tennessee, let me explain. Our state is so thin that, if I roll out of bed on the north side, I’m in Kentucky. If my orgies get much larger than thirty people, one of them is going to have to firmly plant a foot in Alabama, just for leverage. People in Southern Illinois can be in Mississippi in practically three and some change hours. It is virtually impossible to be in your car longer than an hour and a half headed either due north or due south and remain in the state.
(Oh, oh, oh, but you know where I bet Frank and the Administration could find common ground? We could erect a giant wall around Tennessee, keeping all of the Tennesseans in where we can insure we spend our tax dollars in the state where we need it, and keeping all of the illegal immigrants and Yankees out!)
So, here’s the thing. The Administration passes this draconian cigarette tax. Stay with me here… in a state that’s just three feet thick. And, “surprisingly,” folks are going out of state to buy cigarettes where the taxes are much lower.
You would think that this would result in the Administration saying, “Shit, that was a stupid tax. Look how easy it is for folks to get around it, because our state is so easy to get out of. Okay, let’s repeal it.”
But no, America!
Instead, they’re going to use more of our tax dollars to try to catch Tennesseans smuggling cigarettes into the state. They’re going to stake out out-of-state cigarette stores. They’re going to take our cars.
You know what makes this funnier?
One of our official state songs is “Rocky Top.”
I ask you to consider the second verse.
Once two strangers climbed ol’ Rocky Top,
lookin’ for a moonshine still;
Strangers ain’t come down from Rocky Top;
Reckon they never will;
Corn won’t grow at all on Rocky Top;
Dirt’s too rocky by far;
That’s why all the folks on Rocky Top
get their corn from a jar;
What strangers run around the mountains looking for stills?
Perhaps George Jones can tell us:
well the g-men t-men revenures to
searchin’ for the place were he made his brew
they were lookin’ tryn’ to book him
but my pappy kept on cookin’
ooooo “WHITE LIGHTNING”
Yes, I believe there’s ample evidence to suggest that the second verse of our beloved “Rocky Top” is about the “mysterious disappearance” of tax folks getting too curious about the behavior of Tennesseans.
And yet, who wants to monitor Tennesseans’ behavior to make sure we’re not buying too many smokes?
Tax folks.
Gee, I wonder how that’s going to go over.
Tiny Cat Pants 