We all must move on

Everyone should stop dwelling on Assemblyman Ron Knecht's recent escapades. So what if he made out a bill request for Nevada to be renamed "East California" and asked that our state song be changed to "Tax Man"? Big deal! I sometimes sign forms with fake names or addresses or telephone numbers.

A pushy salesperson, for example, wants me to sign the store's guest book. That "guest book" (mailing list), will be sold to 5 million different businesses, marketing firms and general pests. My signature: "Sharon Stone" or "Pamela Anderson."

I save "Dennis Rodman" for when I buy underwear.

It's time to come clean with my co-workers: Historic Scottish warrior William Wallace wasn't going to bring haggis to our Christmas buffet. Further, there were plans for neither Chef Boyardi to bring his famous "Beefaroni" nor for Mao Zedong to prepare a recipe from his little red book.

The sign-up sheets were pinned up on the wall and devoid of signatures. No one was watching. My plan, however, wasn't well thought out. I probably could have been much funnier if I had spent more time hatching my tomfoolery.

To the co-worker who thought William Wallace was a new hire, I'm sorry for the confusion. I would also like to apologize to the employees who had hoped for haggis. Though I'm sorry, I must also say "Ewww!"

Jonathan Crawford, our human resources director, deserves the biggest apology. He's the poor man who gets stuck fixing and organizing virtually everything, including that buffet. There was a note from him begging people (me) to stop making fake food promises.

If I had signed up to bring haggis as myself, not William Wallace, it wouldn't have been funny. It wasn't a laugh riot to begin with, but I was trying to make a point: People needed to bring food to the buffet.

I giggled. It was childish. Now it's over.

Knecht was trying to make a point, too. He was ticked off about proposed tax increases. The bit about making the state animal a RINO, which stands for Republican in Name Only, was lame, however. Now people think he's not very funny and a bad speller. He must have been pretty emotional about the whole thing to misspell "rhino." A cool mood for this type of humor is crucial.

He also might have been too busy doing the state's business to pull off something truly worthy in the Ha-Ha! Department.

If he were aiming at the governor's tax plan -- or the governor himself -- a more direct approach was needed. The governor's office shouldn't have even bothered to issue a statement about Knecht's silliness because it makes them appear guilty. Of what? A differing opinion.

Knecht might have been referring to Gov. Guinn. Or to some lawmaker he met in the men's room. Paul Laxalt or James Warren Nye he's not -- at least so far. The guy is in his first term of office. But he has been smart enough to play this out for all it's worth. In turn, other legislators have climbed on the anti-anonymity bandwagon and made their feelings known in the media.

Most politicians like to have a little limelight shined on them once in while, right? I've never met one who could be described as a shrinking violet.

Running Nevada is serious business, especially given our current financial circumstances, but wit is important in a politician. This display was lacking, wit-wise. Guts are important, too, and here I'll give him two stars on a scale of four. He would have received a zero if he had actually apologized to the governor; a four if he had signed the request sheet in the first place.

It's also good to agree with your representative's political and social views. Knecht doesn't want to see taxes raised while I don't see another way for the state to fulfill its obligations. Unless he wants to kick people back to their home states who have moved here during the last 10 years -- and that means Knecht and me would be going back to California -- tax increases and new taxes loom.

If I were in the Assembly and hatching a plan like his, I would have made sure the actual jokes were better aimed at my target. And I would have signed the stupid form. My target must know he was my target.

If my target later appeared somewhere (a crowded place would be best), I would smile confidently, shake the target's hand and ask, "Hey spud, remember me?"

And if Mr. Potatohead (the target) raised a fuss about my belief and how it was expressed, I would send a dozen pizzas to his house the next night. And when the target asked the pizza delivery kid who ordered them, the kid would say, "Oh, so you're not the Tax Man?"

Bull's-eye.

Terri Harber works on the Nevada Appeal's news desk.