No more nudnicks knocking on doors in Hamilton
Didja hear about the new noknocking ordinance in Hamilton? Put simply, people trying to sell you stuff won’t be allowed to knock on your door if you sign up at HamiltonNJ.com/NoKnock.
No more cable companies, no more driveway sealers, no more energy companies knocking at your door.
It’s a good move. It will help prevent criminals from pretending to be solicitors, and it will prevent solicitors from soliciting.
So while the no-knocking ordinance is good government, it sadly doesn’t go far enough, thanks to the United States Constitution.
Yep. Due to that dusty old document, “freedom of speech” and “freedom of religion” apparently trump “freedom from annoyance.” As such, the following types of door-knocking ninnies are still allowed to ding your bell whenever they please.
Religious types: That’s right. The no-knock law does not apply to everyone’s favorite short-sleeved and tie’d up door-knockers, those lovely Jehovah’s Witnesses folk. And I mean it: They are lovely. Nice and polite to a fault. So nice and polite I almost even feel bad when I tell them things like, “I’m not interested, thanks” or “love to chat, but Satan compels me to continue folding the laundry.”
Political types: Oh yes. Politicians are not barred under this ordinance. Meaning while Jimmy the landscaper can’t knock on your door, Mayor Kelly Yaede can. Conspiracy? You be the judge. (Thankfully, we don’t elect judges, so don’t expect any long flowing robes standing on your front porch.) (Unless they’re Buddhist monks, because religious exception.)
Fundraising types: This means you still might get pestered by cute little girls selling delicious cookies. Get offa my lawn! And leave the Samoas.
So. There we are. No solicitors allowed to knock, but religious, political, and fundraising people are allowed
Doesn’t go far enough, you ask me. There’s a few other groups of people I’d like to see banned from my doorstep.
Sexy UPS guys: What’s up with the female fascination with UPS guys? This is a headache I don’t need. I don’t need my wife swooning every time an Amazon Prime package gets dropped off. Although, I will say this: A few weeks back I had a portable basketball hoop system delivered. It came in a box roughly the size of a Mazda Miata. The UPS guy carried it from the street to my garage on his shoulder. Not “shoulders,” but shoulder. Singular. I may have felt a little tingly. I don’t know. It was breezy.
Annoying neighbors: Is there anything worse than a neighbor ringing your doorbell? Seriously. It’s the 21st century. Text. Email. Tweet. Facebook. Heck, even call via landline. All of these are preferred to actually having to pause “Suburra” on Netflix and answer the door. (For real: “Suburra.” It’s like “Narcos” meets “The Sopranos” meets “The Godfather” as directed by Quentin Tarantino. I’m only on episode 3, but if you like sex and violence and intrigue and don’t mind having to read subtitles, this show is for you.)
Edible Arrangement delivery: Seriously: No one wants 43 pounds of fruit. A few weeks back, I got delivered one of these by a buddy of mine. Long story short: My car had body damage due to someone in his family hitting my car. Since my car had previous body damage I never planned on fixing, I told him not to worry about it. To show his appreciation, he sent me and my family the aforementioned 43 pounds of fruit. While I told him I appreciated the gesture, I also told him I would’ve preferred 750 milliliters of bourbon. He said that was his first thought, but he wanted to get something my whole family would enjoy. I told him it was my car, not theirs. He laughed. Perhaps I’m ungrateful, but I also had to deal with enough canteloupe to build a wall across the Mexican border, so, yeah: Stop sending fruit, people. Just stop.
Ring and run kids: I’m trying to watch “Suburra” over here! Quit it.