“We’ll raise up our glasses against evil forces. Singing whiskey for my men, beer for my horses.”

— Willie Nelson

The Problem

I had some fun the other day.

My wife and I were making our usual weekend sojourn to Asheville’s addictive consumer mecca – TJ Maxx. 

On the way in, we had spotted some sketchy guys scanning the store. Refusing to let that dampen our shopping karma – we pressed on.

Inside, just as I had shoved a pregnant mother and four rugby players aside to snatch my first  bargain, I glanced up to one of the sketchy dudes. His overloaded arms caught my attention. Competition?

He had bed linens, metro-sexual underwear and some pricey household goods that didn’t remotely fit his vibe. Something told me his mission had nothing to do with redecorating the meth lab.

Sure enough, as I headed for the checkout, he darted for the door.

I didn’t know whether it was to share the loot or something more honorable, but something told me to follow him. I tossed my shirt – noticing out of the corner of my eye as the pregnant lady beat out the rugby players.

With me on his six, Mr. Sketchy was scampering toward a green Taurus. He jumped in and off they sped – but not before I got the tag number. I pointed to it and waved. I think they saluted me back.

Inside, I asked for the manager so as to supply the details. She startled me with her response, “TJ Maxx doesn’t prosecute this kind of store theft.”

What? You have a witness willing to testify, ID on a bunch of the stolen stuff, a description of the thief, the color, make and tag on the car and you won’t even file a complaint? “No – I can’t,” she said, “The company’s policies don’t allow it.”

“Well, I can,” I said, and proceeded to try.

It took a while to navigate the hurdles, but I finally got a dispatcher who wanted to help. He explained there was nothing tangible they could do if the store wouldn’t prosecute. He did offer to take my information – affirming the tag number matched the car’s description – just in case there was another crime with this vehicle. 

And so, my “Whiskey for my men – beer for my horses” moment came to an end. No consequences for the bad guys, no accountability from the store and another misdeed dodged Asheville’s notoriously under-reported crime stats.

I also missed out on my shirt. That part was OK. Turned out I already had one in the closet.  

What’s not OK is what this means about our city. When bad guys feel safe plundering in open view, we have a real problem.

Let’s talk about it....

There’s a lot of “cess” in our pool

Don’t look now but Asheville’s credentials as a “cesspool of sin” are moving up and 50 zillion gallons of locally consumed craft beer is the least of it. The bigger “cesses” in our pool are crime, drugs and sex.

With a nod to nature’s dedications to self-correction, our wide-open drug culture is averaging around one permanent casualty a day. That’s not counting the disease (Hepatitis, HIV and everything else in the world), mental health issues (getting high costs more than money), broken children and crime and violence. For a view into the mayhem and our city’s paralyzed “chase the symptoms” response, talk to the police officers, emergency medical personnel, firefighters, physicians, social workers and others on the front line of dealing with this mess.

Our permissive approach to drug users and dealers is corrupting the heck out of our community. But there’s more.

If my count is accurate, we just enjoyed our 8th annual topless protest rally.

We’re the only city in the south thus graced. That’s because our 7-0 liberal governing body keeps playing the “we can’t do anything” game. Every other municipality in North Carolina is readily able to stop this nonsense. These misguided souls come here because the media and our governing body welcome them here.  

Laying aside the fact that protesting for something you can already do seems silly, the whole affair speaks to exhibitionism by damaged girls versus any credible social justice mission. And it’s allowed to go on in broad daylight in our public parks in front of children.

Thankfully this event is just one day a year, but for a real view into the ignored underbelly of Asheville, check out the local escort on the internet. Carnal free marketeers abound here and advertise a scary mix of services involving every body part imaginable – with a clear indifference to consequence. A quick glance at prostitution arrest statistics in recent years affirms that they – like my shoplifting buddies – have absolutely nothing to fear.

Not surprisingly, Asheville’s “Anyway You Like It” vibe has also made us a southeast mecca for the LBGTQ sex trade as practiced in certain hotels and a variety of bed and breakfast sites.

Less anyone feel left out per their gender flexibility, other entrepreneurs in Asheville have come up with a unique enterprise – All Gender Play Party Bliss.  

Consider this excerpt from their web page, “Let me lead you through a series of conscious connective touch as we begin to take a room full of strangers on an intimate exploration of themselves through one another.” “This is an experiential play party for the sensually adventurous. This is an invitation to dive deeply into yourself and each other in ways you may have been afraid to do in the past.”

Then there’s a sister enterprise, the Pleasure Evolution. “Please bring any items you might need, including nesting items, pillows, condoms, dental dams, gloves, lube, toys, a towel to protect your play space and hand towels for cleaning up. We will go over party etiquette at the start, and watching is a totally acceptable way to play. Once inside you can change into comfort, your sexiest attire, or nothing at all.”

These must be some really healthy boys, girls and others. Just reading this stuff is exhausting.

In days gone by these kinds of activities were simply called orgies. To run this capitalistic enterprise in such an explicit and public manner clearly demonstrates they have no fear of being intercepted by law enforcement.  

Why? Because overworked and under supported authorities are taking cues from Asheville’s leadership and a complacent public.

Solutions?

First, we have to recognize we have a problem. Morality matters.

We should also rethink a 7-0 governing body where everyone is operating off the same point of the compass. Monopolies are doomed to stupidity for the same reason ingesting only fatback and mayonnaise sandwiches makes you fat.

There’s a chance that district elections may produce at least one conservative voice. That will disrupt the majority’s ability to hide and pretend without scrutiny.   

Of broader importance is the need to reintroduce personal responsibility into our social safety-net. As it stands our community is overwhelmed by a growing phalanx of lost souls bleeding the system with a license in self-indulgence. With no skin in the game, no one is helped and helpers are exhausted.

It’s a personal view that the portal to hell is located somewhere under the Buncombe Courthouse. The inefficiency, paralysis, lack of accountability, under-funding and endless delays produced therein must surely be Satanically inspired.

That matters, because if we stumble on the rule-of-law, we’ll stumble on everything else. Nothing works without safety and there’s no safety without timely justice and accountability.

On a personal level, the solution is simple – don’t participate in the bad stuff and raise your voice against it when you see it. Being normal in an abnormal world is today’s form of non-conformity.

Look for our community’s cesspool credentials to expand. Unaddressed addictions grow until they kill their host.

Bargain-hunting remains a notable exception….

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 Carl Mumpower, a psychologist and former elected official, is chairman of the Buncombe County Republican Party. He can be reached at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it .