Ness was unavailable for comment, as he was spending the weekend burglarizing citizens’ homes to help pay down the city’s $4.5 million deficit.

Polls show the Donny Ness tax has the support of 99.9% of Duluth residents. The only dissenters were the mayor himself and another resident with the unfortunate name of Donald Ness. He is unrelated to the mayor.

“Why should I have to pay $5,000 just because the mayor is a douchebag?” said Donald Ness. “I like the fee for emergency services better, especially with how much our last mayor drove drunk.”

Mayor Ness’ emergency services law is one of many bizarre fees considered by the city council lately. Other proposals from Mayor Ness include installing pay toilets in every resident’s home, charging property taxes twice per year instead of once, and placing 56 toll booths throughout the city, one for each major road.

“Can we charge people to breathe air?” asked a desperate Mayor Ness at one council meeting. “I also heard 15 percent of city residents live beneath the poverty line. Can we charge them for that?”

Aside from the Donny Ness tax, citizens have also passed a law charging fees to city council members who make laws. Every time a law is created or changed, each of the council members will have to pay $500, whether they voted for the law or not. They hope to persuade representatives to actually balance the budget properly instead of inventing laws that punish locals and scare away tourists.

City spokesman Jeff Papas is not affected by the Donny Ness or city council taxes, but citizens are working on a separate tax to charge city spokespeople who promote dumb ideas that Mayor Ness thinks up.

“With these new citizen laws, we feel Duluth will finally be back on track,” said resident Franklin Peltola. “Now the only thing that will scare away my visiting relatives is the drunken cavepeople who live in Superior.”

“Hey!” shouted Judy Duritz of Superior, struggling to hold both a baby and a cigarette. “Shut your mouth, fancy pants!”

The combination of Mayor Ness’ bizarre emergency services tax, which charges people for something their taxes already paid for, and the citizens’ Donny Ness tax, which charges Donny Ness for being Donny Ness, Duluth seems to have become a living example of Hunter S. Thompson’s quote, “When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.”

When asked how the new citizen laws could possibly be any better than Mayor Ness’ emergency services law, most residents responded with laughter.

“It ain’t any better. Duh.,” said an unidentified man drinking out of a Brewhouse growler as he strutted down the street. “Elected people are supposed to make shit smoother, so people can come home from work and relax instead of worrying about the government. Our politicians keep pushing the panic button instead. Panic is what they want, so we’re giving it to them and seeing how they like it. Ness’ office has been flooded with bizarre letters and calls for weeks.”

After taking another long swig, the man removed his knit beanie hat and shouted, “Panic, Fled Manders! Panic!”

The filthy bastard was trying to catch us, like syphilis caught Zach Braff. Fortunately, I hate talking to people, and I hate talking to them on the phone even more, so I was safe. Even more fortunate is that in a month, these officers hiding in the bushes will go back to writing tickets to homeless people for pooping at the Staples Center.

It’s a good thing, too. If the law is enforced too heavily, people might research the details and realize how dumb their political representatives are. For instance, you can’t talk on the phone while driving, but you’re allowed to dial numbers, and text messaging isn’t specifically prohibited. So I can text my friends and ignore the road completely, but I can’t hold the phone up to my ear and drive attentively. That’s like saying I’m only allowed to punch the governor in the face if I punch him really hard.

Which I might.

Here’s a list of some other things I’ve done while driving: Read the newspaper, removed and replaced a contact lens, drank boiling hot coffee, ate a quesadilla, fell asleep, changed my shirt, closed my eyes and sneezed, studied the cleavage of the woman driving next to me, steered with my knees while eating pudding, and talked on my phone. Only one of those things is illegal.

The only positive aspect of this new law is it gives me one more excuse not to talk to people on the phone. I used to have to make static sounds with my mouth and claim the reception was bad if I wanted to stop talking to someone, but now I can just say I’m driving.

“Sorry mom, God and Allah and the Tetragrammaton and the State of California won’t let me talk in the car. You wouldn’t want me to get a ticket, would you? I’ll call you back later.”

Then I call her back at night while she’s sleeping and leave a message.

So why am I writing about California laws in a Minnesota newspaper? Because the law will soon come to you. It’s only a matter of time before the bluetooth accessory companies make money off Minnesota as well.

You might actually agree with this law, as I did before it was implemented here. However, what I have learned so far is even with it in place, people drive just as poorly. Old people still drive slow. Teenage girls still drive 30 mph over the speed limit and then slam on the brakes right after cutting me off. Middle-age businessmen still weave between lanes while shuffling papers or doing God knows what.

The only difference now is none of them are using cellphones while doing it. This makes their behavior even more infuriating, because it means they’re naturally retarded, rather than retarded by choice. This law has not brought satisfaction, only increased frustration when I realize I need to call a friend for directions while on the highway, or I need to answer when a potential employer calls but I can’t because I’m in the car.

Worse yet, this law opens the floodgates for even more legislation on common-sense issues. Instead of just increasing enforcement of the all-encompassing law about inattentive driving that has been on the books for decades, we will soon have 20 laws, one for each little thing people do. Looking at a map while driving? Gone. Drinking coffee on the commute to work? Gone. Fellatio from a classy lady while speeding down a poorly-lit rural highway? One of these days, that will be gone too.

In the end, society will be a little more stressful and I’ll turn into one of those annoying old people who reminisce about the days when sodas cost a nickel.

“I remember when you could listen to music in the car.”

“Whatever grandpa. Save it for the nursing home shuttle bus driver. He gets paid to listen to you cry.”

You reap what you sow, dear reader. If what you sow is poop, then all you’ll be eating is poop sandwiches. With the way legislation has increased over the past few decades, that may soon be the only entree on the menu. Bon appetite.