Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Whilst wading through the manure that is Kentucky's Revised Statutes yesterday in assembling my post on Kentucky's Nudist Society Act, I also happened across good ol' KRS 231.110.
It deals with "Places of Entertainment", and what is forbidden in them. And in typical KRS fashion, it's frightfully vague and disturbingly arbitrary.
Did you know you can't have "drunken" persons in a place of entertainment? I guess that makes every nightclub in Kentucky against the law.
Did you know you cannot have any unmarried man or woman occupy a secreted place together out of view of the public? What year is this, anyway? Sounds more like Saudi Arabia than America to me.
Also says here that persons with a "lascivious reputation" are not allowed to congregate in places of entertainment.
Wait, that can't be right. Can it? Let me just look at that again... hmmmm. Yep, that's what it says.
So, uh, what is the governing body responsible for determining one's "reputation"? Or is it just left to the individual determination of fine morally upstanding law enforcement officers? You know, like Chris Dison.
I know, I know - they always say "oh, those laws aren't really enforced, even though they're still on the books." Yeah. Not enforced much. Except maybe when they need to be, selectively, by serious detectives seeking justice. You know, like Crystal Marlowe.
But most peculiar of all to me is that the statute spends more time being concerned about fortune telling than anything else. Maybe it was a bigger deal in 1978 (when this statute was passed) than it is today, I dunno. Says here an establishment must go through the rigamarole of obtaining authorization to tell fortunes from the county clerk. (Why does an expert in Tarot need to pass muster with some bureaucrat? Is any county clerk knowledgeable about the necromantic arts? Does he/she possess some sort of innate ability to instantly sense the fakes from the "genuine" fortune tellers?)
It further goes on to decree that even after an establishment jumps through all those hoops (and that doesn't even take into consideration each city's own peculiar laws and regulations), it must post in a conspicuous place a schedule showing a detailed breakdown of fees.
It's enough to make a fortune teller not wanna tell fortunes. Or at least go underground. Or at least repaint the sign out front to read "Life Coaching" instead.
I wonder if these statutes ever caused any trouble for Madame Zelda at Squirrely's Magic Tea Room? No wonder she's never there when I drop in.
Oh, how I wish it was 1942 again, when a man could discreetly drive to Madam Brent's trailer and slip through the beaded curtain to have one's fate assessed.
What would Edgar Cayce do?