The zero-tolerance mania has claimed many victims, the first
being common sense, quickly followed by reason, sound judgment and
respect for authority. Now they’re going after potato cannons. Can
these vital elements be removed from society without causing deep
and lasting damage? It would not seem likely.
Before taking up Spud Guns, which are dear to my heart, it is
worth remembering that there is no shortage of incidents in which
this or that school administrator or chief of police mindlessly
chants “zero tolerance” just prior to clubbing a citizen — usually
a kid — for the most minor of supposed infractions. The other day
a grade-schooler was disciplined for pointing an oak leaf at a
fellow student. This no doubt taught the offender a lesson, though
not the one desired. Unless this lad is a total dunce, he now knows
a sizable portion of the adult population is helplessly insane.
How did America come to this? Columbine seems to have been a
flashpoint; as mentioned before, one of my sons was kicked out of
school for a week after defending a 15-year-old friend from an
18-year-old bully. Two glancing blows were thrown. The first
officials to the scene were screaming about Columbine, as if there
were a connection. Their minds had clearly been destabilized. They
live in a state of unshakable panic. And their mania, in which
massive meaning is accorded to meaningless events, is
pervasive.
Some of us are reminded of the days when hallucinogenic drugs
were in vogue. A devotee might spend hours divining universal law
in the surface of a marshmallow, or in the way a centipede crossed
a garden path. The ingestion of a Twinkie was accorded cosmic
significance. The next day, of course, would bring a return to
sanity (most of the time, anyway). Not so for apostles of
zero-tolerance policies. Their madness is not only encoded into
law, but is considered a sign of a higher sensibility. And so kids
who point oak leaves, or forget to remove a cake cutter from their
car before parking at school, are treated as criminals. Kids live
in a state of lockdown. There is very little they can do that won’t
get them into trouble, and perhaps serious trouble.
Which brings us to the Tater trauma.
The other day in East Grand Rapids, Michigan, the police
launched yet another zero-tolerance attack, this time on Potato
Cannons. Up there, they call them “potato launchers,” perhaps
because they’re not allowed to use the word cannon lest it unleash
murderous impulses throughout the populace.
As the Associated Press reported, “After confiscating a batch of
‘potato launchers,’ the East Grand Rapids Public Safety Department
issued a zero-tolerance warning this week for the homemade weapons.
Firing one, or even possessing one in a public park, is grounds for
a $500 fine and a possible 90-day jail sentence, and department
officials say they won’t hesitate to prosecute.”
There are no doubt many citizens who nodded approvingly at this
news. After all, potato cannons can shoot a spud 100 yards,
sometimes farther. In the warped mindset of our era, in which an
unchecked imagination is accorded the same respect as a rational
perspective, visions of menacing youths firing potatoes into crowds
quickly takes hold. Ditto for visions of authentic felons, whose
attempts to buy real guns have been thwarted by the Brady Bill,
rushing into banks with the unwieldy weapons and demanding sacks of
cash.
In Reality Land (a shrinking district, to be sure), the potato
cannon is a life enhancer — providing light entertainment,
especially for boys. They are humorous in their very being — a
long piece of plastic pipe, at whose end is the combustion chamber,
usually made from a pipe joint. These chambers have at least one
removable plug, which look like the plugs on fire hydrants, and
also boast a sparking flint inserted into the chamber through a
hole.
Anticipation builds as the potato is stuffed down the pipe —
which is generally five or six feet long — with a ramrod. Then the
plug is removed and a mist of propellant is sprayed into the
chamber. Aqua Net hairspray is a favorite because of its high
butane content. The plug is quickly screwed back on. The gun is
aimed in the desired location and the flint is spun.
Whoosh! The potato soars into the heavens. There are laughs and
perhaps a sense of momentary awe, especially if the spud takes a
mighty flight. Night firings are especially entertaining as
spectators marvel as the plume of fire sends the spud into the dark
sky. It’s not a whole lot, but it is something that kids —
especially boys — like to do. Now this too is being banned.
Kids are supposed to live under these lockdown conditions with
all good graces. Reasonable people know, however, that eventually
the wrongly incarcerated will start reaching through the bars and
strangling their jailers — along with the rest of us.
