Do you like your day job? I do. My day job is designing people’s houses – or as I like to call it, building people’s dreams. How could you not like that?
You know what I don’t like most about my job? I don’t like all the nannying bastards who get the hell in the way of my clients’ dreams, and my working day.
Days spent trying to get a flower instead of a weed out of the system. Days wasted trawling through gobs of rules to produce truckloads of paperwork for bureaucrats who can’t understand it when they see it -- and when they do see it they decide that they’ve got their own rules anyway, so they want more. Days spent arguing on the phone with delicious bastards absolutely disinterested in anything getting done, telling me yesterday’s paperwork is no good because the bastard has changed his mind about what’s required. (I have several broken phones as testament to how these conversations went.)
People often ask me why I spend so much time on blogging and on activism. I’ll tell you why. It’s because this stuff gets so far up my nose that if I didn’t try to beat the bastards back somehow I’d go postal. Who the hell wouldn’t?
Do you ever feel like that? Mad as hell and not going to take it any more? Feel like yelling “Leave us the hell alone!” Then read this tremendous rant from someone who has.
You might call it A Day in the Life of a Subject:
“This morning I woke up on my "don't remove the tag" mattress, walked through my building code compliant house, used the federally compliant toilet, dressed the kids and drove them to their "state certified" charter school where they'll eat a state approved lunch.
“I got back in my state registered, emissions compliant, insured (by state requirement) car and drove the legal speed limit back to the house. I then walked through my Scottsdale code compliant yard (no weeds in our "desert" landscaping")into the house, drank pasteurized (USDA required) juice, and ate cereal processed in an inspected facility with milk from an USDA compliant dairy. I then took my FDA approved prescription pills (from a licensed pharmacy of course) and played with the state-licensed dogs. . .”