There’s something bothering me so much I can no longer keep it to myself.

What is it? you ask.

It’s those performers from the ’60s and ’70s who are still performing … but in name only.

If you haven’t been to one of their concerts recently, don’t feel bad, because you haven’t missed much.

Basically, they sing their old stuff, note for note, inflection for inflection, foot tap for foot tap, exactly as they did in 1968 or whenever. Then when their contracted time is up (and not one second later), they say what a pleasure it was to perform there, how beautiful the audience is, and how they love each and every one of ’em.

Touching. Kinda like listening to some windbag politician (pardon the redundancy) reading a canned speech for the thousandth time. In fact, it’s not “kinda like it” — it’s exactly like it.

And for this dubious pleasure you pay a ticket price that’s about the same as a flight to Seattle.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not knocking washed-up performers. If they do shows in their sleep and make a fortune for it, more power to ’em. The name of their game is money and ego reinforcement, not philanthropy, and I’m OK with that. What I’m not OK with is the peeps who come out of those shams enthralled, as if they’d just spent two hours in the Kingdom of God.

And the reason that bugs me is because those people, who get transported paying top dollar to listen to some has-been whose voice and moves went south sometime during Reagan’s first term are the first ones who’d complain bitterly if I reprinted two of my columns a year. Actually, they’d complain if I reprinted one column.

All right, so I know those are two separate gigs, but it still rankles. Fifty new columns a year for me is just bizness as usual; 15 ancient songs for them is downright transformative.

Now that I’ve gotten my grousing out of the way, I’m proud to announce that this column is a repeat. It’s not the same column reprinted, but it’s a column repeating a subject I already wrote about. And the reason I’m doing it is because the subject is a matter of life and limb – literally.

It’s about our village’s traffic control. Or more exactly, our viallage’s lack of traffic control.

If you haven’t noticed this, then you’ve either never crossed a street in My Home Town or you’ve spent your entire life in a shoebox.

The problem

The essential issue is the crosswalks, perhaps so named because when you use them, you cross yourself twice — once for safe journey across, and once after you’ve reached the other side unscathed.

While according to state law pedestrians have right of way on the crosswalks, in reality they don’t here. Uh-uh. Instead, you reach a crosswalk, and unless you’ve got a powerful death wish, you better check out the traffic scrupulously before you take Step Numero Uno, because the sad truth is lots of drivers pay no attention to pedestrians crossing.

And it’s not like they don’t see the poor shmendricks standing between those white lines. They see them; they’re just not about to stop for them. You can tell by their posture when they zip by, head and eyes straight ahead, as if nailed in place.

From what I’ve seen, this is true at every crosswalk in town: at Berkeley Square, at the bottom of Berkeley Hill, in front of the post office, etc. As a result, knowing the crosswalks are irrelevant to their safety, pedestrians cross all the hell over the place. So, quite simply, we have a law on the books that’s neither enforced nor obeyed. And the reason it’s not obeyed is because it’s not enforced.

So now that we know we have a problem, right here in River City, what do we do about it? We enforce the law, that’s what.

The solution

Before I go any further, let me clarify something. I’m not playing the blame game, especially not with our cops. Aside from it not accomplishing anything, I have no beef with them. They do the best they can with a difficult job; plus, I believe they give more breaks than tickets. And beyond that, it’s not just a cop issue – it’s a village issue, specifically a village government issue. Since most of us aren’t about to make citizens’ arrests, and since vigilante justice is not only discouraged but illegal, it’s up to our powers that be to get in gear and take effective measures. And I think it’s not all that difficult to accomplish.

What to do?

Well, to start, you can’t very well enforce any law if no cop is present to do it. So first, you need to get the cops out of their cars and on the streets. They don’t have to be there all the time, but enough to be a clear and consistent presence. Maybe drivers don’t pay attention to people in crosswalks, but you can bet your your bip they’d pay really close attention to cops directing people across in them. I not only believe this can be done, I remember back in my Gilded Youth when it was done.

Second, you have the cops ticket drivers who go through the crosswalks, and then have the courts fine them royally. I’m not into draconian punishment for its own sake, but let’s get real — consistent, expensive fines work. This is especially true with public misbehavior. There was a time when people didn’t wear seat belts, drank underage, and smoked in all buildings. That time is long gone, and it isn’t because folks just started obeying the laws out of an abiding sense of citizenship. So I see no reason it wouldn’t work with our traffic ordinances as well.

Though my memory is spotty, at best, I recall a bunch of years ago our village bought two police bikes. If you’ve never seen them, they’re modified mountain bikes, with all the cop stuff — lights, siren, and for all I know a .50 cal mounted on the handlebars. They’re used by police departments all over the US, but somehow we never got on board with them.

So I’d say if anyone knows where they are, drag ’em out of mothballs, have John and Mike at Human Power Planet Earth get them up and running, set one cop atop each bike, and then set them loose. They’d not only be able to take care of the traffic situation, but at the same time they could get in shape.

And if we don’t have those bikes, what’d stop us from buying some? They’d be a lot cheaper, in monetary, physical and emotional terms, than dealing with some luckless soul getting mowed down on Main Street.

Plus, if we have cops on the streets, we get to know them. And if we know them, chances are we’ll like them, they’ll like us, and it’d be a win-win all around.

For years, I knew all the cops. When I was a kid, we met them on the streets, they talked to us, we talked to them. Later, I knew the cops because I’d gone to school with them. Now, sadly, I know only two – Peter Gladd and James Joyce, both of whom I think are excellent cops and fine people besides. I’ve no doubt our other cops are a good lot as well, but I don’t know it since the only time I see them is when they cruise by in their cars. And more’s the pity.

As I said in the beginning, this column is a repeat. It’s something I don’t like to do, and hope not to do again. And I have high hopes I won’t have to, for a couple of reasons.

First, the solution to our crosswalk mess is a simple one. It was done years ago here, and it’s still being done in the civilized areas of This Great Land of ours. So it sure can be done both here and now.

Second, I know my column is read by many of the village potentates. No less a luminary than Hizzoner, Hizz-self has told me he reads my stuff, and if I can’t believe him, who can I believe?

So if you read about village traffic control in this column again, hopefully it’ll be about how our enlightened leaders rose to the occasion and made the streets safe — that is, safe to walk across.