On Saturday, I had the immense, if only occasional, privilege of sitting in the dreadful traffic on I-76 just west of Philadelphia. Even weekends around here are no guarantee that traffic will be tolerable, and so, with nothing but a nice warm dinner on my mind, I crawled through suburban PA at 10 mph, wondering what the holdup was this time.
Shortly thereafter, we passed a cop, who had pulled someone over and was now writing a blessed traffic ticket. “Ah, rubbernecking,” I thought. Rubbernecking is a stupid thing but it is never going to go away, no matter how much the positivists rail against it. It is a fact of human nature. While this was a stupid reason for traffic to slow to a crawl, I was relieved that at least we were out of the woods.
Not so fast. The traffic backup continued, until finally we passed two cars which had collided with each other. The drivers were sitting there, barely onto the shoulder of one of the most dangerous roads there is, waiting for someone to help them with their quandary.
So much for the police, though. They were too damn busy writing tickets to help people who actually had a real problem. (There was another cop several miles farther down the road, also writing a ticket.) Keep this in mind, friends, the next time some cop tells you that he’s here to help. He’s not. He is a tax collector for the State.