Reid About It

It's census time in the grand ol' USA. Every ten years, the government takes a head count, and everybody hates it.

It's always amused me how people resist telling the government anything, like the fact that they have two kids is something that could be used against them by the sinister G-men. These are the same people who'll use their Facebook accounts to announce things like their separation from their husband, or when they're leaving town on vacation.

I actually worked for the Census Bureau when I was right out of high school, as a part-time summer job. Remember how bad that 1990 census was, and all the controversy about how the numbers didn't add up?

Yeah, that was my fault. Anyone who's ever been to my Census-beat of Shelby County, Texas, will understand my plight. If a man is common-law married to a farm animal, does it count as a spouse, pet, or dinner? I didn't know what boxes to check.

Anyway, I went to my mailbox yesterday and found a letter from the Census Bureau. As someone who's been on the other end of that transaction, I kind of looked forward to it being over and done with.

Snake-eyes.

Nope, It's not my census. It's just a letter telling me that they're about to mail me a census.

Imagine the logic of that. To make sure I read my mail, they send me a letter. And they'll probably send me another letter later to see if I read the first two.

Ah, government waste in action. It's like the Census Bureau is singlehandedly trying to prop up the Post Office. Hopefully if they ever need to call me, they'll give me a call beforehand and make sure I answer the phone.

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Reid Kerr remembers quite unfondly losing the muffler off his car to an exceptionally awful Shelby County road in the Census of 1990, which the government would not reimburse him for.