Just before the savior of the American Family took office there was a controversial drug poised to go “over the counter,” with the qualification that a doctor’s consent would be required for a minor to purchase the drug. In other words, an adult could purchase the drug but a minor would need a prescription. Then a new man was picked to head up the FDA, and the work to go forward with the plan (five years in the making) suddenly was put on hold.

Without mentioning the name of the drug or the controversy surrounding it, you can sort of see that politics probably played a role in the change in policy, but that’s not where I have a problem. Heck, I’m not sure where I stand on the issue – which not coincidentally remains unnamed by this entry. No, where I have a problem is being treated like I’m stupid. The decision was revisited on the radio this morning, and the now former head of the FDA (who was “responsible” for the change in policy – reversing the plan to let the drug go ‘over the counter’) claimed it was necessary to post-pone the plan, in order to flesh out how they would require a prescription for some consumers (minors) and not for everyone else.

Yeah, that’s a tough one. How do you prove a consumer’s age? Do we require all adults to report to their local office of vital statistics with a blood sample, four witnesses, and a certified copy of their birth certificate (if they were born somewhere else) to get their “over 18” tattoo? Or is there a simpler way, something that the law already requires as proof of age/identity to purchase cigarettes, booze, and Sudafed?

HOLY EASTMAN-KODAK BATMAN – A DRIVER’S LICENSE! It’s crazy talk, I know… but it just might work.

**Author’s note: at this time I can not rule out the fact that I may be stupid.

Friends, today was a hurricane day. Those of you familiar with snow know a thing or two about the occasional labor liberation, courtesy of Mother Nature. My employer was in classic form yesterday, closing the office at 3p.m. – after the worst of the weather had passed. At 3 p.m. Monday, the center of Alberto’s circulation (such as it was) had passed our office, which means I got to watch the worst of it (for us) through my office’s wall of windows facing Tampa Bay. Today I sat at home and enjoyed a whole heaping helping of sunshine, on the state dime.

From now on I propose the state employ “The Jim Cantore Rule,” which simply states: “If Jim is doing the weather from your neighborhood, it’s time to let the kids go home.”

Although it was not a shining moment for state government, it all worked out pretty good for me.