A Short History Lesson about the Third Amendment.

No Soldier shall, in time of peace be quartered in any house, without the consent of the Owner, nor in time of war, but in a manner to be prescribed by law.

The Bill of Rights comprises the first ten amendments to the Constitution, all of which were passed together in 1791, two years after the Constitution was ratified (and as part of a compromise for getting the Constitution ratified in the first place.)  The Bill of Rights was as controversial when it was first proposed and ratified as it is today, though the controversy back then was on the whole concept of the Bill of Rights, not the substance of the rights covered (which we’re still arguing about, of course.)  The argument against the Bill of Rights was that the Constitution itself is a document of limited, enumerated powers—i.e., it doesn’t say the government can do anything except _______; it says the government can do only _____.  That being the case, it was argued, why do we need a set of amendments that start listing all the things the government can’t do?  That list is endless!

But we wound up with a Bill of Rights, and it has been keeping things interesting in this country ever since.

The Third Amendment to the US Constitution is an anomaly in the Bill of Rights.  It’s not simply that it doesn’t get the attention or respect that the other amendments get.  It’s that it’s just so damn weird nobody could take its complaints seriously if it had sense enough to figure out what a joke it is.  The Third Amendment is not Jan Brady to the First Amendment’s Marcia; it’s Cousin Oliver to the whole Bill of Rights Bunch. 

If you start doing a roll call of the things the Bill of Rights covers, it’s pretty exalted, high-minded stuff:

“Freedom of speech!”

“Yes!”

“Right to trial by jury!”

“Yes!”

“Freedom of assembly!”

“That’s why we’re here!”

“Freedom of religion!”

“Preach it!”

“Right to bear arms!”

[Hushed consultations.]

“I said, right to bear arms!”

“Um, we’ll get back to you.”

“No double jeopardy!”

“Yes!”

“No quartering of soldiers in citizens’ houses!”

“—-!  Huh?”

Exactly.  Why do they feel like they need to go out of their way to assure me they’re not going to quarter soldiers in my house?  The fact that they mention it at all, something that specific, makes me suspicious that there did at some point exist a plan to quarter soldiers in my house and that those who had that plan may have other specific plans they think they can carry out if there’s no amendment prohibiting it.  Maybe we need some more amendments.  I’d like to know if they plan to make me install low-flush toilets or start wearing boxer shorts.  Anybody who’d even think of quartering a soldier in my house (which you’d think would be more appropriately dealt with in a subdivision’s deed restrictions, in the same article with prohibitions against garage apartments and raising sheep) could probably think of a lot of other stuff he might want to do even more.  The Third Amendment is where the Constitution jumps the shark.

But two hundred years later, we know there are at least ten things the government can’t do (unless Anthony Kennedy decides otherwise), and one of them, we are assured, is that the Army can’t come live with us unless we say it’s okay.  That’s comforting.  I guess.  But if they make you install a low-flush toilet, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

OCCASIONAL REJOICING

The Song.  If there are any better songs about the Third Amendment, I’d be interested in hearing them.

The Performance.  Nothing fancy on the guitar, so nothing really to evaluate.  Buck is apparently emulating his namesake, Buck Owens, in his over-enunciations.  Buck loves Buck Owens.  So do I.  Buck Owens is likely to be invoked here quite a bit.  I spend way more time thinking about Buck Owens than most people probably do. 

The Video.  I doubt that in future offerings I will raise your expectations any higher than is merited by this initial effort.  The video stuff takes longer than the rest of the production.  I can write the songs in the car, in the shower, on the toilet, whenever (that’s not to say that there aren’t going to be some real bad ones, only that I don’t need a lot of additional equipment to come up with them).  The recording takes more time than it should, because I haven’t really figured out how to use the recorder right and it’s inconsistent in its output.  Most of the songs will just be two tracks—voice and guitar—and I’m not (usually) using effects or doing anything fancy, tech-wise, so you’d think it would be as easy as plugging in the guitar and the mike and putting the settings the same way each time.  But it’s not.  I don’t know why.  Once I manage to get the settings right (which really means merely having the guitar record without distorting or emitting a loud, staticky hum, and sometimes to eliminate the hum, I have to run a ground wire from the recorder to me—i.e., my corporeal being—and I have to take off my shoe and keep one foot flat on the floor.  I’m serious), we usually do only one take, sometimes two.  That’s not because we get it right immediately but rather because we know that any improvement in future takes would be negligible.  Buck and I just aren’t that good.

The video, though . . . .  I just have no particular talent or aptitude for it and not a lot of interest in developing either.  To do one of these a week (and maintain a livelihood and family) I’m going to have to accept some realities right up front, and one of them is that none of this stuff is going to be perfect (which is sort of the point of my doing this at all, come to think of it:  to accept imperfection), and the video is going to be farther from perfect than any of the other stuff (usually.)  I’m going to just use whatever footage or photos I happen to have handy, and the green screen is probably going to be a mainstay.  That’s my great-aunt Mabel holding the yellowcat, circa 1972, in the pasture in front of a rattlesnake-infested house we lived in for a couple of years east of Scotland, Texas.  Nobody knows who that severe-looking old man in the frock coat is.  Whoever he is, he probably deserves better than this.  I don’t know who that chipper little guy standing at attention is either.  I hope he stayed that happy, though I realize that that’s unlikely.  He probably grew up to be that guy in the frock coat.

Happy Child

 Next week:  Nutcracker Buck sings “Yahtzee!”