I had a dream the other night.

I was in a meeting when the receptionist interrupted. “The Speaker of the House of Representatives wants to talk to you. He says it’s urgent.”

I excused myself from the meeting and took the call. “Scott,” the Speaker began, “As you probably know, the General Assembly is about to crank up another session. So, I’ve got the Lieutenant Governor on the other line and we’d both like to know what we ought to do to fight crime.”

“Well,” I began, “I think the first thing y’all have to do is make the safety of Georgians the top priority. That’s gonna cost some money.”

“Done!” they both said in unison.

“Then, you’ve got to pay the police and deputies what they deserve. That means that the State may have to help some when local governments can’t get it done,” I said.

They responded, “We agree.”

“We can’t let up when it comes to rooting out drug dealers. This is a war. Law enforcement needs plenty of resources. But, it will be worth the expense if we can keep drugs from dragging down our families and schools and workplaces,” I continued.

“You bet!” they cheered.

Setting down my cigar (I don’t smoke, but, remember, this is a dream), I made my next point. “The way we deal with juveniles needs to change. Lock up the gang members and kids who threaten violence at school. Rehab the ones who need that. And relax the confidentiality rules enough to let us dress knuckleheads in clown suits and put them on display at football games.”

The Speaker and the Lieutenant Governor gasped, “Those are great ideas!”

“And whatever you do, remember to protect children from perverts and our elderly from those who try to take advantage of them,” I warned.

“No matter what, we’ll see that it is done,” they promised.

Then a sad thing happened. I woke up.