"It looks like your libertarian sympathies are spilling out into the mainstream, Max,” I said as he got a Shiner Bock out of the auxiliary fridge and sat down on my nap couch.

“You’re not planning on taking a nap right away, are you?” he asked.

“Seeing as how it’s only 10:30 in the morning, I’ll wait a while,” I replied. “How about the P & P candidates?”

Max smiled broadly. “At last, common sense is rearing its roughish head in public. It’s about time. The paparazzi should use a lot of ink on it.”

(The P & P to which I referred is legalization of “Pot and Prostitution” a catch phrase being made popular by at least two candidates now in the public eye.)

“I understand that one of those pushing legalization is the former procuress that kept Elliot Spitzer supplied with highly skilled affection,” I said.

“Don’t you love the irony of it?” he croaked, stifling a laugh. “The entrepreneur that supplied the gal that precipitated the scandal that cost Spitzer his New York governor’s job is now running for that very job. And she’s doing it on a platform of legalizing prostitution and pot! And we thought the Europeans had a big time with Clinton. Boy, they should go bananas now.”

(Max was referring to a float in a German parade several years ago that depicted the Statue of Liberty with a grinning Clinton standing behind her fondling her breasts. As far as I know, it was never shown on American TV or in newspapers. It was on the order of the recent one of Hillary and Obama, complete with halo, that’s currently making the internet rounds.)

“It looks like your suggestions about legalizing sin and taxing it are catching on,” I said.

“It’s a start,” he replied. “There’s a lot of resistance to legalizing anything that’s been made sinful and consequently illegal, so we’ve got to overcome the centuries-long tradition of criminalizing immorality, so it will be a long row to hoe. But the taxpayer is starting to catch on that he’s the one getting screwed but has hesitated to say so, for fear his Sunday school class would excommunicate him.”

“I don’t remember Sunday school classes having that kind of power, Max. I think the stud duck of the entire movement has to do it, like the Pope or the head Rabbi.”

“Oh well, you know what I mean,” he said, shrugging. “But folks are finally catching on that they’ve been spending good money for at least 9,000 years trying to shut down prostitution and instead of going away, it has grown to Olympic proportions in all venues. However, it does allow the vice cop to rack up a star by hauling in a hooker off the street every once in a while. Keeps your stats looking good if you’re a vice cop.”

“True,” I said ruefully. “But if the truth were known, the cops would rather be doing something more worthwhile and the citizens wish that were the case as well.”

Max nodded. “And the same goes for pot. This country spends billions on the drug war and they haven’t been able to claim a major victory yet. They haven’t kept anyone and I mean anyone, from high school kids to blue-haired grannies, from getting all the drug of their choice that they can pay for. All the drug war has done is to perpetuate another giant bureaucracy.”

He paused and squinted at me.

“In fact,” he went on, “as I remember, you were involved in that war at one time.”

“Kind of, just around the edge,” I replied. “The company that employed me maintained the aircraft for the U. S. Customs Service here and in Mexico . Nice job, by the way.”

“Didn’t you spend some time in Mexico ?”

“As a matter of fact, I did,” I answered. “I was tasked with writing the operations plan for the ensuing year of the contract. But I managed to do it by working with the folks at the Mexico City site. I traveled from the Pink Zone to the airport and back. Cushy assignment.”

“You mean you avoided the bad places.”

“You danged tootin.’ I wasn’t going to set foot in Sinaloa or any of those hot spots. Our guys down there used to terrify newbies when they’d check in by telling them that it was standard practice to buy a personal automatic weapon for self protection.”

“But you’d go along with P & P?” Max asked.

“Sure,” I replied. “It’s a sure sign of idiocy to keep doing the same thing over and over thinking it’s going to produce a different outcome. Why not turn it to our benefit and collect some taxes? Hell, the Democrats out to go for that, big time.”

Max hooted. “Yeah but the Republicans won’t. They’ll just look horrified, thump their Bibles and say, “But it’s wrong!”

“Ah c’mon Max, where’d you ever get an idea like that?” I asked.

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