No beer for you!

Remember this?

Let's bring back the Volstead Act, shall we? And while we're at it, I suppose we denizens of Redneck Mansion should simply be thankful that Walmart didn't call CPS and have our 17-year-old taken away, à la Justina Pelletier.
Not only does my husband--he of the white hair and white beard--need to provide proof of age to buy beer (as I do, too--I'm lacking the whiskers, though, thank God), but he was nearly forbidden by the beer nazis at Walmart to actually purchase a 12-pack of Saranac because he had our daughter with him.  See, she was asked to produce ID, too, which revealed that she's--gasp!--a minor. He was about to leave the Saranac and the rest of his attempted purchases there and walk away when some employee higher up the food chain gave the requisite permission for him to buy beer. Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, minor Walmart functionary!
All the employees were wearing patriotic gear in honor of Memorial Day--the irony of that wasn't lost on our daughter, bless her heart. 
I'm waiting for CPS to cart off some kid who has the misfortune of having a clearly negligent parent--who's a sorry excuse for a role model to boot--with the audacity to purchase something frowned upon by the nanny staters while in the presence of said offspring. After all, didn't Melissa Harris-Perry spell out the new and accepted thinking on this?

Some people are sure that present-day conservatives take their cues from our Puritan forebears and in a very negative way--you know, that conservatives are the kind of people who fear that somewhere, somehow, people are enjoying themselves.
Not so much.
Present-day progressives are themselves the neo-Puritans, a repressive, self-righteous, suffocating, self-designated elect, all in the name of protecting us from ourselves and children from their parents--all in the name of control.
Want to be able to buy a light bulb that doesn't make you look jaundiced and reasonably-priced electricity to power it? Sorry, no incandescent light bulbs or fossil fuels for you.
Want to be able to raise money for your high school cheerleading squad? Sorry, no car washes for you.
Want to be able to offer advice based on your personal experience? Sorry, no recipe sharing for you.
Want to be able to take your child with you to the store to buy a beverage that humans have been making and consuming for at least 7,000 years without having to produce proof that not only are you not some adolescent whose skin has only recently cleared but are not some reprobate gleefully anticipating providing alcohol to underage drinkers?
Sorry, Charlie.
No beer for you.