The Third Policeman, by Flann O’Brien
Excerpt
“Atomics is a very intricate theorem and can be worked out with algebra but you would want to take it by degrees because you might spend the whole night proving a bit of it with rulers and cosines and similar other instruments and then at the wind-up not believe what you had proved at all. If that happened you would have to go back over it till you got a place where you could believe your own facts and figures as delineated from Hall and Knight’s Algebra and then go on again from that particular place till you had the whole thing properly believed and not have bits of it half-believed or a doubt in your head hurting you like when you lose the stud of your shirt in bed.”
“Very true,” I said.
“Consequently and consequentially,” he continued, “you can safely infer that you are made of atoms yourself and so is your fob pocket and the tail of your shirt and the instrument you use for taking the leavings out of the crook of your hollow tooth. Do you happen to know what takes place when you strike a bar of iron with a good coal hammer or with a blunt instrument?”
“What?”
“When the wallop falls, the atoms are bashed away down to the bottom of the bar and compressed and crowded there like eggs under a good clucker. After a while in the course of time they swim around and get back at last to where they were. But if you keep hitting the bar long enough and hard enough they do not get a chance to do this and what happens?”
“That is a hard question.”
“Ask a blacksmith for the true answer and he will tell you that the bar will dissipate itself away by degrees if you persevere with the hard wallops. Some of the atoms of the bar will go into the hammer and the other half into the table or the stone or the particular article that is underneath the bottom of the bar.”
“That is well-known,” I agreed.
“The gross and net result of it is that people who spent most of their natural lives riding iron bicycles over the rocky roadsteads of this parish get their personalities mixed up with the personalities of their bicycle as a result of the interchanging of the atoms of each of them and you would be surprised at the number of people in these parts who nearly are half people and half bicycles.”
I let go a gasp of astonishment that made a sound in the air like a bad puncture.
“And you would be flabbergasted at the number of bicycles that are half-human almost half-man, half-partaking of humanity.”

And it gives a whole new meaning to Norman Tebbits phrase ” Get on yer bike !!!! “

Still this is an example of how sex offender laws weren’t passed as a product of rational thinking, but knee-jerk reaction. If it had been thought out people would have realized that it would be better to have a dangerous offender registry that includes the truly dangerous offenders(rapists, pedophiles, murderers) regardless of whether sex is involved and excludes all minor offenders whether sex is involved or not.

The registry should be changed. Sex being a part of a crime does not automatically make the perpetrator more dangerous to society or to children(unless children are involved), or make the offense worse.

I want to ride my bike
I want to ride my bicycle
I want to ride it where I like

You say up I say down
You say in I say out
You say Penny I say Farthing
I do what I mean
I don’t care if it’s obscene….

As one commenter at Pandagon, Matt, said in an effort to wrap his mind around Karl “Pavement Pusher” Jenkins:

“Hmmm. . . .

Go home, grab the hand lotion, lock the bedroom door, take the phone off the hook–

Nah, too much work. I’ll just f*** this pothole. “

(apologies to Willie Nelson)