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Representatives and direct taxes shall be
apportioned among the several States ... according to their respective numbers
... The actual enumeration shall be made within three years after the first
meeting of the Congress of the United States, and within every subsequent term
of ten years, in such manner as they shall by law direct. – From Article I,
Section II of the Constitution of the United States
Ah yes Article I, describing the
election and duties of Congress. You can’t apportion representatives without a
count, thus the reasonable (and incidental) creation of the census. It works
well if you don’t mind us larger states being knee-deep in congressmen, enough
to drive some folks off to Montana and their allotment of one. Of course if we
all did that the rascals would only follow us, according to our numbers.
Somewhere along the line, though,
the census turned into something more than a way to ration politicians. For one
it has become the biggest bonanza for advertising agencies since presidential
elections, which also have some Constitutional purpose but I forget what.
Ads urging us to complete our census forms tend
to center on the goodies we’ll get from expenditures of money that came from us
in the first place. They also tend to be everywhere, including television,
newspapers, radio, and a few places you might think would be safe. On a recent
visit to a corner of Maui that the car rental company might not be thrilled
about, we saw the forms, wrapped in plastic, dangling from bushes like some odd
fruit.
Most of us will receive the short
form with a half dozen mundane questions about age, gender, and more
controversially, race. About one household in six will lose the census lottery
and get the long form with 53 questions, few of which seem to do with
congressional apportionment. Or maybe we can’t have meaningful representation
without knowing whether you drove to work alone “LAST WEEK” (always in capital
letters), or need assistance when bathing.
Most of the inquiries must be
answered for the first six people who live in your home, each tenderly referred
to as “this person.” For example: “At what location did this person work LAST
WEEK,” and “What time did this person usually leave home to go to work LAST
WEEK?”
Allocating representatives and
direct taxes is apparently a pretty tricky business. A simple tally won’t do;
it is also necessary to know the citizenry’s race, where we lived 5 years ago,
our “emotional condition,” the names and addresses of our employers, how we get
to work and how long it takes, whether we missed a day of work LAST WEEK, our
“most important (work) activities or duties,” and our ability to climb stairs.
It’s clear that the Census Bureau
has more in mind than stuffy old Article I. According to Director Kenneth
Prewitt, “Every household that returns the form does strengthen the ties that do
bind us together as a civilized society.” That’s fine with me but if they
really want to get a handle on the threats to our civilization, how about
questions like these:
“When signaling for a turn on the
freeway LAST WEEK, did this person generally: turn in the direction signaled;
turn opposite the direction signaled; drive for three or more miles with the
blinker on.
Does this person have any piercings or
tattoos? If tattooed, is the tattoo: a battleship; a skull and crossbones; the
words “Mom” or “Harley;” a fluffy bunny; not visible to the general public.
Did this person pick their nose LAST WEEK? How did this person dispose of the
contents: In a cloth handkerchief; In a disposable tissue; By flicking to the
floor; Other (you know what we mean).”
OK,
my suggestions might be a little on the intrusive side, though I’m not sure
they’re much nosier than the one about bathing. Still, if this will lead
to a more civil society, count me in.
And by the way, it’s a fluffy bunny.
© 1997 – 2002 Brent Morrison
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