Bah humbug!

In California, one must be careful uttering such a phrase, as it may require a permit, a public comment period, a carbon-offset fee, and/or a disclosure under Proposition 50 explaining who funded the sentiment. And even then, you may be called some kind of “-ist”. IYKYK.

Once upon a time (last week, to be precise), I awoke in the Golden State to discover that California had, once again, saved me from myself. This time, it was by protecting feelings by regulating my appliances, and reminding me that joy — like everything else — must be sustainably and ethically sourced.

Consider, if you will, the simple straw.

In most lands, a straw is a straw. In California, it is a moral referendum. One must now request a straw, as though whispering a dark secret to one’s server: “Psst … may I have a straw?”

The shame!

The guilt!

Tiny Tim never looked so disappointed. And if you are lucky enough to get one, and even then it is probably a paper straw that wilts in your drink within minutes.

Then there are the grocery and shopping bags. Oh, the bags.

Once free, now 5 or 10 cents — unless you bring your own, which you will forget, every time, because the reusable bags are still sitting in your trunk, next to the identical reusable bags you bought last week.

Californians now own enough reusable bags to clothe a........

© Santa Clarita Valley Signal