I am shocked to see some bloggers have pointed to “The world’s flags given letter grades” without thinking about the frightening implications for these United States. For in the course of compiling this flamingly arbitrary ranking of national pennants — “I assigned the letter grades in the way I usually mark student papers” — this autocrat has assembled a set of rules that render pretty much all American state flags vexillologically unacceptable. Let us all shrink in horror.

Actually, let’s think about it.

Rule 1. Do not write the name of your country on your flag. Almost all of them fail. That includes “California Republic”: using a retro flag ought to be suspect on its own; also “NC” — postal abbreviations count, too.

Why so many violations? Anxiety, I should think. If your flag graces ships that sail into people’s harbors and staves that soldiers plant in people’s soil, you don’t need to put your name on it — people know, or if they don’t, they will soon. If on the other hand you’ve got a flag because… well, just because, you might think it prudent to slap the name on it. Maybe in really large print (ahem, Kansas).

Rules 1a, b, c: Do not write on your flag; do not write some stupid slogan on your flag; if you must write a stupid slogan on your flag, do not do so in a living language. Again, almost all of them fail. Special offenders include Florida and Georgia both using “In God We Trust” (incurs extra cliché penalty), Idaho poaching the motto of my college fraternity, and Michigan putting three different mottoes on a single flag, for pete’s sake. If you would find an overly busy flag, look in front of you.

Once more, this is about anxiety. Colors alone aren’t enough; we have to stick up some erudition. (Unlike the New Zealander, there, I think mottoes in dead languages are worse, and I confess to a soft spot for the one-worders: “Forward,” say, or “Industry.”)

Rules 2, 2a: Do not put a map of your country on your flag; do not put a picture of anything on your flag. Yet again, almost all of them flunk. Special offenders include Louisiana’s brood of pelicans trying to get mama to regurgitate something and Kentucky’s surprisingly enlightened picture of a guy in a tailcoat pawing a guy in buckskins.

Rule 3. Do not use a tricolor unless you are in Europe. No offenders — but this is the flip side of the anxiety thesis, as expressed above.

In sum, most American state flags are way too busy. Who’s going to scrutinize these things closely enough to puzzle out the lengthy mottoes or arcane arrangements of symbols?

Maryland is worth special mention for managing to jar the eyes without resort to an easy out like excessive typography or detailed portraiture.

Some include peculiarly objectionable symbols. Flags of the United States should not include the British Union flag; this is kind of missing the point of being the United States. And we all know about Mississippi.

Alabama looks like a traffic warning, Ohio has too many spots stars and is a funny shape, Arizona looks like the side of a Namco arcade game from the early 1980s.

From a purely aesthetic standpoint, the winners are probably New Mexico and Texas.

After all that, the University of California flag isn’t terrible, though presumably it’s short a star.