I’m grateful to the advocate of the disadvantaged who suggested that homeless people and panhandlers are only acting reasonably when they light fires and solicit contributions for their upkeep: “If it is cold outside and if you have no warm place to be, it seems reasonable to build a fire. If you have no money, it seems reasonable to ask someone who appears well off for money.”

This argument is attractive to me because my neighbor has a new tractor, which I would like to have. Unfortunately, it is beyond my means. Doesn’t it seem reasonable that I should ask him for it and that he should give it to me? I’m sure I need the tractor more than he does.

Moreover, who knows by what unscrupulous means he may have obtained it? Undoubtedly, it was manufactured by exploiting Third World labor. Yielding it up to me would be an act worthy of the Good Samaritan. But what if I ask nicely and my neighbor refuses? Wouldn’t it be reasonable for me to seize it, since I want it and need it? It would only be an emphatic kind of panhandling. In what way would it be a crime?

This feat of logic reminds me that the mind is a wonderful instrument, capable of gymnastic leaps, high wire prances and elastic contortions. It can wrest divine ideas from the murky void. It can conjure up ingenious syllogisms to justify our prejudices and desires. It can spin half truths, non-sequiturs, hyperbolic sophisms, gaudy conceits – whatever it takes to win the argument and silence the opposition.

With the aid of this useful sidekick, two human beings can consider a single issue and come up with diametrically contrary views. From one point of view, a local facility that feeds the hungry and homeless is a noble, compassionate enterprise. From another, it’s an “enabler” that encourages sloth and irresponsible, self-destructive behavior. The philanthropist revels in the joys of helping the disadvantaged. The skeptic sardonically suggests that do-gooders let homeless people camp in their backyards and “see how they like it.”

Lawrence has difficulties enforcing some of its numerous ordinances, such as the fireworks ban, the smoking ban and the regulations limiting the number of unrelated adults in a rental unit. But that didn’t prevent the commissioners from adding three new ordinances designed to promote “civility.” One prohibits “aggressive” panhandling, one prohibits trespassing on rooftops and one limits how people can sit or sleep on city sidewalks.

According to a newspaper article, these decisions “left both sides less than happy.” An argument could be made that Lawrence has too many ordinances and that there is a limit to the number of ordinances the average citizen can observe without suffering from ordinance fatigue. You could also argue that “civility” must be learned in the home and is not something that can be mandated by city ordinance.

Ironically and sadly, a homeless shelter’s car wash to fund softball games for the homeless was shut down – because it violated a city storm water ordinance. But from another point of view, human society must be regulated like an ant hill. Otherwise, the citizens will run amok. From this perspective, Lawrence needs more rather than fewer ordinances.

For instance, there ought to be an ordinance against people who pop their chewing gum and people who wear their pants down around their knees. What’s needed is a vast army of public servants to make sure the ordinances are obeyed. There needs to be a corps of sentries stationed on roof tops on the lookout for trespassers, specialists trained to distinguish “aggressive” panhandling from merely “energetic” or “enterprising” panhandling and arbiters of the proper use of sidewalks as places to sit or sleep.

Still, one is left with the troubling suspicion that no matter how many ordinances the city conceives, the goal of a fine-tuned society will prove elusive. Those words – “left both sides less than happy” – ring like the peals of a bell of doom. Isn’t that the story of human affairs? No ordinance is going to be a silver bullet. Someone is going to feel shortchanged: the panhandlers or the bourgeois capitalist shoppers, the trespassers on roof tops or the owners of the roofs.

Since there’s apparently nothing both sides can agree on, how can we ever hope to live in peace? If we’re never satisfied, how can we ever hope to find happiness? According to hunch, my neighbor is already disgusted with his tractor and wants a new, bigger one with more features. I’d be doing him a favor to take the old clunker off his hands.

One thing is certain: If you want a tractor, the reasonable thing is to get one. If you can’t afford one, it makes perfect sense to take one. The Declaration of Independence says we’re entitled to pursue happiness, and I can’t do that without my neighbor’s tractor. My heart is set on it. Just let me have this tractor, and I’ll try never again to ask for more. The world owes me this one. I’ve paid my dues.