A Court of Common Sense for a Daft World

Sometimes the world is too much with us.

We read the news in disbelief. We shake our heads and mutter: “How could they? Why would they? It makes no sense at all!”

The sturdier among us turn the page and get on with our lives. As for the others, there are ways to ease the pain: the oblivion of booze, the twilight world of drugs, the caloric hell of guacamole, the constant carping of talk radio.

But it doesn’t have to be so. That is why the new year seems as good a time as any to resurrect my modest proposal for civility, rational discourse, the guidance of hard experience and the wisdom of ordinary people--in short, for the Court of Common Sense.

The Court of Common Sense would act in those cases where rules, regulations, standard operating procedures and irksome laws interfere with what is clearly and indisputably the right thing to do.

The Court of Common Sense would convene around a kitchen table or, in more countrified areas, on the porch. Its five members--all right, seven if you want--would meet whenever they felt the urge.

And when might that be?

It might be when a member--shall we call them “judges” or leave that to the Big Boys?--hears about a 6-year-old boy suspended from school for kissing a little girl on the cheek, thereby engaging in sexual harassment.

“How could they?” this judge might harrumph. “Why would they? It makes no sense at all!”

After a brief discussion (no discussion in the Court of Common Sense would last more than about 45 minutes), the judges would issue their decision.

“Nonsense!” the verdict would read in the distinctively direct prose style favored by the Court of Common Sense. “Get that boy back in school and suspend the principal!”

Of course, not all cases lend themselves to the plain-spoken approach of the Court of Common Sense. Reality is notoriously messy. Cases of mayhem and murder and abuse are properly left to the black-robe courts, as flawed and gaseous as they may be. Many other matters are infinitely more complex than those that can be settled around the kitchen table, and the Court of Common Sense would have the common sense to know the difference.

Still, there would be plenty of fertile ground for the Court of Common Sense, including:

* Almost any decision or nondecision by Caltrans.

The judges would make only one field trip to the deadly Mussel Shoals exit off Highway 101 to hold the transportation agency in contempt of common sense.

“How could they? Why would they? It makes no sense at all! Build an offramp or an overpass or a tunnel or anything else to make this intersection something less lethal than a mousetrap poised to spring! And start tomorrow!”

* Any decisions keeping Ventura County’s homeless shelters shut on the freezing nights they are needed the most.

“Get done with the politics before winter!” the judges would agree. “Let the people thaw!”

* Almost any decision by almost any HMO would have the judges shaking their heads like dashboard Chihuahuas:

“You’re denying which tests? You’re throwing grandma out of the hospital? You think it’s just a cold? Is this how you’d treat your own grandma? Start over and keep your eye on the patient instead of the bottom line!”

So how would the Court of Common Sense draw its judges?

With common sense.

Let the lawyers blather in their own forums. The Court of Common Sense would be made up not of juris doctora but of Homo sapiens.

I picture a 20-year playground supervisor--someone accustomed to the swift settlement of squabbles among passionate, unyielding adversaries.

I see a Navy cook--someone who works well in rough seas and is accustomed to pleasing nobody.

I see a downsized middle manager--someone who has suddenly been forced to swallow a bitter dose of compassion for the less fortunate.

I see an aging Dixieland clarinet player, only because I believe every court can use one.

Of course, you can make your own choices and create your own standards for these modestly paid but highly influential positions around the kitchen table.

There should be no golfers, though.

I can’t stand golf or anything associated with it, and I question the common sense of anyone who does.

How could they? Why would they? It makes no sense at all!

Steve Chawkins is a Times staff writer. His e-mail address is steve.chawkins@latimes.com