Riposte: Taking Down the Bully

Walking around my New Hampshire town with one of my neighbors,  canvassing for Hillary Clinton and the Democratic ticket, she told me a story about the policeman on the Maine Island where she has a summer house. 

Canvassing amounts to knocking on doors to remind people on our lists to vote. They are on our lists because we expect them to vote Democratic, but we had been getting surprised in this unusual election. Some Democrats told us they would vote for Trump, some just smiled and were non committal. 

But it was a lovely, crisp Fall day, with the leaves peaking in color, and it was a fine way to spend the day.  We had time between door knockings to tell stories.

She told me about the time her golf cart had broken down on a dark road of her island and she found herself stranded with her son, as the sun was setting.  The island is about 2 by 3 miles and shuts down in the winter, but in the summer it has about 500 households and people get around by golf carts. But hers had stopped and she faced the prospect of walking home along a dark road at night. 

Just then, the island's policeman drove by, but he did not stop.  Just drove on by.

Later, at some island social function, the policeman came by to say hello to her and to  shake her son's hand. 
The son had been away at college and the policeman asked him how he was doing. "Well, okay now," her son said, "But I would have been better the other night, when my cart broke down, if you had stopped for me and my mother and given us a ride in your Jeep, which the town paid for."
Ears perked up among the gathering of islanders.
This policeman had wanted to boost the police presence on the island, had wanted funds to build a jail. He wanted to be an important man.
"Well," the policeman said, a little flustered. "But your mother had her phone."
"Oh," the mother interjected, "So, we really don't need police here, just phones will do."

I wish I had been there to see that. I could never think that fast.

We knocked on a door and burly man opened it and stood behind a screen door and my neighbor introduced herself and told him we were canvassing for the Democrats but before she could finish he demanded: "Then show me your permit."
"What?"
"In the town of Hampton, you need a permit to solicit."
I was about to object that we were not soliciting, but engaging political activity, exercising our free speech rights, but we had been told not to confront opposition. Our job was to rally the troops, not to persuade or to confront.

We walked back to the street.

"That can't be right," I said. "What ordinance is he talking about?"
My neighbor wrote "Nut" down next to his name on our clipboard tally. It would be entered into the computer when we returned.

I checked the computer when we got back. There is an ordinance, RSA 31:102-a,  about "peddlers and hawkers" which are clearly defined as persons who knock on doors of private residences for the purpose of selling goods or services. They are required to register (although no permits are issued), but the town's FAQ's specifically says people knocking on doors for religious or political purposes are free to do so. "Watchtower Bible and Tract Society v Village of Stratton," which guarantees the right to do this sort of door to door activity as a First Amendment Right.

So, I kicked myself that I didn't say, "You'd better check your legal precedents," or something like that, but then again, we were on his property.

Nevertheless, I wish I had the presence of mind to whip out my smart phone and google it right there and say, "Well, what do you know? The Town of Hampton says I'm within my rights. Thanks for sharing." 

What that guy behind the door was trying to do was to dominate by claiming superior knowledge, when in fact, he did not know what he was talking about.  We see this at the Trump rallies, not just on stage, but among the crowd. 

People clinging not to their guns and religion, but to their sense of self respect and reacting to their own dimly perceived inadequacy. They are down because they don't know what those slick city lawyers in their expensive suits know. Well, I can play that game, too. I can claim to know stuff. I got good words. I'm very intelligent. 

Clinging to their ignorance.

Just give me what I need and we'll have law and order. We'll have a jail right here on the island and we'll keep those undesirables out. 

And there is one more thing:  Don't people ever think past the catchphrase?
"Build a Wall." Really? What does that mean?
Even setting aside the logistics and the time it would take, just for argument's sake--suppose you could wave a wand and presto, a 14 foot, electrified wall, complete with watchtowers from the Pacific Ocean to the Gulf Coast.  Would that really stop people from entering our country illegally? 
Have you ever heard of tunnels?  Or simply, going around the wall, entering along the Louisiana, Alabama, Mississippi or Florida Gulf coast?
Remember the Maginot Line the French built along the German border after WWI? Impregnable. No German army could get through it. Of course, the Germans didn't bother when they came back at the onset of WWII. They flew over it, and skirted around it, through Belgium. 
Walls, lines, those are what's called "static defense."  Easy to slide past.
Oh, well, they may get in, but then we'll deport all 11 million. (As if we could.)
But if we could, will they stay deported? 
There is we learn in school, ordinarily, another question.
But the guy behind the door, the guy who wants to be in the know, doesn't want questions. 
He just wants authority.