Happy Independence Day

Colonial Riff Raff: “Hey King, fuck off!”

King: “WHAT?  How dare you mumble disloyalties!”

Colonial Riff Raff: “Mumble?  We’re Americans now.  American’s don’t mumble…we shout!”

King: “What is the meaning of this?”

Colonial Riff Raff: “It’s not complicated.  We want to be free.  You want us to be subjects.  So we’re kicking your ass out.  We thought you might be confused so we wrote our reasoning in black and white.  It’s sort of a ‘Cliff Notes to Freedom’.  You might want to study it.  We explained about the inherent equality of mankind and how government exists only by the consent of the governed.  Heady stuff!  Then we couldn’t help adding several paragraphs about how you’re a huge duchebag.”

King: “But you can’t possibly…”

Colonial Riff Raff: “We’re not into long breakups.  Get your military and your asshole tax collectors out of our lives.  Now!”

King: “I’m the most powerful imperialist ruler on the planet and you’re a bunch of rednecks with squirrel rifles.  Are you mad?

Colonial Riff Raff: “Oh yeah!  We’re batshit insane.  We’re the people that are going to be so goddamn free it’ll make your wig spin.  We’re going to use that freedom to invent monster trucks, land a man on the moon, and unleash disco on the world.  We’re going to get filthy rich too!”

King: “What is a ‘truck’? …and how does one manufacture one of monsters?  Hey, I’m playing into your devilish game and that’s hardly kingly now is it?  Enough of this!  Pay your taxes or I’ll make you!”

Colonial Riff Raff: “Oh yeah?  You and what army?”

King: “Ohhhh now I’m really mad.  You’ll be sorry.”

Colonial Riff Raff: “I forgot to mention.  We’ve got balls of steel.  In seven years your armies will be hightailing it for safety.”

King: “NOBODY SPEAKS THAT WAY TO A KING!”

Colonial Riff Raff: “We do.”

————————-

And that’s how it all started.  A bunch of people who wanted to be left alone and got massively pissed off when taxed.  Americans still want to be left alone and we still get massively pissed at taxes.  We don’t like taking shit and we’ve got balls of steel.  That’s all there is to it.  We’re free because we’re free on the inside.  America is not a location and it is not a government.

Go out there and be free!  Light fireworks with a beer in your hand.  Eat huge steaks.  Make bad jokes.  Smoke, drink, and swear.  Drive big cars.  Fire guns.  Make noise.  Laugh in the sun.  Be as playful and foolish as you wish.

Foppish Europeans (and their domestic counterparts) can sniff about unity and carbon footprints and sneer at our exuberance but that’s their loss and not our concern.  America was never a nation of dour whiners.  Fuck ’em and their handwringing nannyism…we’re free and it feels good!

Howl at the moon and cheer because today’s the day we rolled the dice and taught ossified royalty that free men won’t play by the old rules.

Posted in Harangue-a-bang-bang!, Libertarian Outpost | Leave a comment

Declaration Of Independence

IN CONGRESS, JULY 4, 1776
The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America

When in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. — That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, — That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security. — Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world.

He has refused his Assent to Laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public good.

He has forbidden his Governors to pass Laws of immediate and pressing importance, unless suspended in their operation till his Assent should be obtained; and when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend to them.

He has refused to pass other Laws for the accommodation of large districts of people, unless those people would relinquish the right of Representation in the Legislature, a right inestimable to them and formidable to tyrants only.

He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository of their Public Records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures.

He has dissolved Representative Houses repeatedly, for opposing with manly firmness his invasions on the rights of the people.

He has refused for a long time, after such dissolutions, to cause others to be elected, whereby the Legislative Powers, incapable of Annihilation, have returned to the People at large for their exercise; the State remaining in the mean time exposed to all the dangers of invasion from without, and convulsions within.

He has endeavoured to prevent the population of these States; for that purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither, and raising the conditions of new Appropriations of Lands.

He has obstructed the Administration of Justice by refusing his Assent to Laws for establishing Judiciary Powers.

He has made Judges dependent on his Will alone for the tenure of their offices, and the amount and payment of their salaries.

He has erected a multitude of New Offices, and sent hither swarms of Officers to harass our people and eat out their substance.

He has kept among us, in times of peace, Standing Armies without the Consent of our legislatures.

He has affected to render the Military independent of and superior to the Civil Power.

He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution, and unacknowledged by our laws; giving his Assent to their Acts of pretended Legislation:

For quartering large bodies of armed troops among us:

For protecting them, by a mock Trial from punishment for any Murders which they should commit on the Inhabitants of these States:

For cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world:

For imposing Taxes on us without our Consent:

For depriving us in many cases, of the benefit of Trial by Jury:

For transporting us beyond Seas to be tried for pretended offences:

For abolishing the free System of English Laws in a neighbouring Province, establishing therein an Arbitrary government, and enlarging its Boundaries so as to render it at once an example and fit instrument for introducing the same absolute rule into these Colonies

For taking away our Charters, abolishing our most valuable Laws and altering fundamentally the Forms of our Governments:

For suspending our own Legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever.

He has abdicated Government here, by declaring us out of his Protection and waging War against us.

He has plundered our seas, ravaged our coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people.

He is at this time transporting large Armies of foreign Mercenaries to compleat the works of death, desolation, and tyranny, already begun with circumstances of Cruelty & Perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the Head of a civilized nation.

He has constrained our fellow Citizens taken Captive on the high Seas to bear Arms against their Country, to become the executioners of their friends and Brethren, or to fall themselves by their Hands.

He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavoured to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages whose known rule of warfare, is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes and conditions.

In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble terms: Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A Prince, whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people.

Nor have We been wanting in attentions to our British brethren. We have warned them from time to time of attempts by their legislature to extend an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us. We have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration and settlement here. We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred to disavow these usurpations, which would inevitably interrupt our connections and correspondence. They too have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.

We, therefore, the Representatives of the united States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these united Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States, that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. — And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor.

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Word For The Day: TURD Attack

Time to point out a tempest in the teapot that is CNN’s Eatocracy.  Eatocracy posted an innocuous little ditty called “Five Reasons to buy from your local 4H“.  The article should be about as controversial as beige paint.

Unexpectedly some folks went into a full episode of TURD.

Total Urbane Reality Dissonance (TURD)© – noun; An illogical emotional outburst caused when a clueless (usually urbane) fool encounters the difference between their synthetic Utopian pretend life and the actual reality in which the rest of us dwell.  Example; ‘When he tried to hug the wild moose it kicked him so hard he’ll need training to learn how to drool again.  He had a TURD attack and kept screaming ‘I’m going to sue that mean old moose’.  Meanwhile I drank his beer and convinced his girlfriend to dump him.”

Why freak about some kid raising a pig?  Because farm animals raised by 4H kids are butchered and eaten just like every other farm animal on earth.  The relationship between livestock and food isn’t news to most of us but you can never predict what simple fact will cause morons to have a TURD attack.

Apparently a few geniuses were shocked, shocked, to discover that food doesn’t come from the grocery store.  (Where do these people come from?  Are they hatched from test tubes in shopping malls?)  The end result was “Does 4-H desensitize kids to killing“, a remarkably even handed (dare I say too gentle?) summation of the irrational comment shitstorm.  Here’s an excerpt from a TURD argument:

“…knowing the animal that trusted you from birth is off to be mistreated before being slaughtered! That’s fulfilling? Maybe that’s because the 4-H has successfully desensitized these children…”

That’s bullshit beyond the pale!  Those kids work hard to raise their livestock and don’t deserve to be tweaked by ignorant useless navel gazing dependent jackoffs.  Farm kids raise food.  They create something where there was nothing.  And, yes, that means butchering too.  Whiny handwringers who’ve never raised food or accomplished anything else wouldn’t last five minutes without the backbone of society that serves up everything from arugula to iPods.  I’ve re-written the comment to match reality:

“…knowing that you’re such a useless loser that a farm kid can do what you cannot (and make a tidy profit doing it)!  That’s logical?  Maybe that’s because a lifetime of buying food in a grocery store has oversensitized you to reality…”

Human beings have been, are, and always will be adaptable omnivorous mammals.  Pretending to be an overspecialized herbivorous moron is just fooling yourself.  Food doesn’t come from a grocery store and changing your human nature from hunter/gatherer to furry won’t change it.

A.C.

P.S.  Making fun of vegetarians is fun but I don’t want to paint with an overly broad brush.  If a vegetarian can ignore my venison steak, leave farmers (and 4-H kids) alone, and raise vegetables without weeping when they harvest a carrot, they’re clearly not susceptible to TURD moments and aren’t a target of my ridicule.

Posted in Harangue-a-bang-bang!, Word For The Day | Leave a comment

The Libertarian’s Freedom Flush

This post is about civilization, shit, and freedom. Things that make life worth living.

In 800 BC the Holy Roman Empire had indoor plumbing. This was the greatest discovery of all time. Civilization is when you can take a crap indoors. Without that we’re just animals with iPods.

If you don't have plumbing this device just doesn't seem relevant anymore.

Tragically, Roman society became weak, rotten, and hollow. It collapsed like a Congressman’s spine (and for the same reasons). Rome burned and Europe suffered centuries of war, famine, and pestilence. Peasants reverted to buckets.

Some places couldn't flush until just before digital watches became popular (linked).

Fast forward to my homestead. The decrepit septic system was built by farmers that didn’t own a level, misunderstood fluid dynamics, and thought duct tape could fix everything. Frequently I was forced to employ a plunger. Or as I like to call it; “Satan’s reamer”.

This would not do! Civilization would not collapse on my watch! I overcame my cheapskate ways and installed a new septic system. The financial bloodletting was brutal. Like financing a decent used car and then hiring machinery to bury it.

I decided to go big!  They said “this septic design is adequate.” I said “Make it bigger; I want it to be capable of processing a flushed walrus.” They said “you’re nuts and what’s this about a walrus?” I said “I’m paying so I’m the boss and if I want a system the size of Albuquerque it’s my business.” They said “Yes sir!”

The new system went live last year on Fourth of July weekend. God bless America!

Everything worked. Civilization was saved.

Alas, septic can’t go out if water doesn’t go in. A midwinter freeze demonstrated that ice has more volume than water. Global warming alarmist would gain a sense of scale and humility if they had to thaw pipes with a blow torch at 2:00 am. I tried to thaw the pipes in time. I failed. This is why God invented beer.

When life hands you lemons, get out the wrecking bar!

I’d been meaning to renovate anyway. I hemorrhaged more money and worked nights and weekends for months. Eventually we had a gleaming new bathroom.

I'm rather proud of my workmanship. I did wonders with the drywall!

The original plan was to retain the existing 5 gallon toilet. I changed my mind. Our gleaming new lavatory merited a new throne. The old toilet, which had served for decades, was thrown under the bus and mission creep ruled the day.

Goodbye old friend.

Enter the ass clowns bureaucrats. I leave folks alone but hordes of self-righteous wankers don’t extend me the same courtesy. In particular, “environmentalist” political bullies turn me off. I want nothing to do with controlling anybody and I wouldn’t use the transparent fig leaf of “saving Gaia” to cover my inner emptiness. I do not lightly bear the yoke of regulation and fictional justification by eco-handwringers burns to the core. Authoritarians are no friend to the environment and they are no friends to me.

The mandatory low flow toilet is a tragic fact! Folks, there’s nothing more sacred than a man’s morning dump! Intruding on my morning constitutional is regulatory overreach gone nuclear! I don’t care if you’re a certified genius, militarily backed by the Marines, and a spiritual advisor to the Pope; when you determine how much water my shit requires from D.C. you’ve gone too far!

The arrogant putrid worms that mandated water conservation toilets weren’t thinking of the waterlogged uninhabited tundra where I live. Phoenix, which inexplicably chose to build itself where there’s scarcely enough water to keep a dog hydrated, has to conserve water. I don’t. My well…my personal well…the independent and privately financed water supply that is mine and mine alone has no lack of water. Nor does my expansive redneck homestead lack leach field space. Limits make sense in desert cities but the leash goes on us all. Welcome to the future eco-topia where political ass sniffers will force the rest of us to ride bicycles while they fly to Paris to negotiate carbon treaties. A pox on the lot of ‘em!

Al Gore's mental image of my backyard.

Low flow toilets usually suck donkey balls but they’re ok under ideal circumstances. I decided to go “all in” to tune the entire house’s plumbing so low flow would do the trick. I consulted several plumbers and explained that that my sole joy in life was an unclogged toilet. I wanted a toilet that could flush an Ewok. I wanted the throne to remain unclogged even if civilization collapsed, the power went out, and Mad Max warfare consumed the streets. It’s important to have well defined goals in life.  

I picked the biggest baddest toilet money could buy. Then I turned the infrastructure dial to eleven. I wanted this device to flush anything in sight including small children and pets. A stopped toilet is God’s way of saying he hates you and wants you to burn in hell. My plumber was both skilled and terrified of me (I get that a lot). He tweaked the flow and vent system as if threatened by a madman.

I was concerned. If I needed a plunger the terrorists had won.

Success! It works very well. Properly focused and expertly rigged, a 1.6 gallon flush will blast last night’s tamale into oblivion. Between the septic rebuild and the new bathroom I’ve spent the price of a fair used Subaru on…shit. Was it worth it? Yes!

Take heart freedom lovers (and shitters) everywhere. The moral hazard and affront to human dignity of mandatory low flow toilets can be overcome…provided you design everything flawlessly. Whew! Perhaps the depressing inadequacies of compact fluorescent lighting (another crotch grab by Gaia worshippers) had biased me?

Americans deserve toilets that’ll suck the cat down if it gets too close. I have proven it’s possible even amid our Kafkaesque regulatory maze. Huzzah!

Posted in Harangue-a-bang-bang!, Libertarian Outpost, Nanny State Moralizers | 5 Comments

Freedom Means Leaving The Other Guy Alone

As you may have guessed, I love freedom.  For the most part everyone thinks they love freedom too.  But wait…most people who say they like freedom don’t mean it.

Freedom means not only doing your own thing but being cool with other people doing their own thing.  Folks usually can’t resist bossing other people around.  Freedom means a neighbor who doesn’t mow his lawn…right next door to the lawn Nazi who obliterates dandelions on sight.  It means nervous doctors watching yahoos without helmets BASE jumping.  It means risk taking BASE jumpers co-existing with pale gutless doctors who get the vapors playing golf.  It means the Prius hyper-miler getting passed by a displacement laden ’69 Plymouth Barracuda.  It means some guy with spandex shorts painted on his ass might be pedaling a bicycle when you want to goose that Plymouth’s accelerator. 

Freedom means you don’t get to call the shots for anybody but yourself.

A person needs self control, honesty, and a metric shit-ton of humility to let other folks do something they themselves wouldn’t do.  And when we fail busybody assholes get their hooks in.

Og says it better.

“Freedom- or libertarianism, or whatever the fuck you want to call it is NOT ABOUT YOU HAVING THE FREEDOM TO DO AS YOU PLEASE. Freedom is about YOUR WORST ENEMY DOING SHIT THAT YOU HATE AND DOING IT DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF YOU. “

Indeed it is.  I’d like to add a Curmudgeonly corollary about regulations and laws:

“For every regulation you propose, imagine your worst enemy enforcing it.”

“Imagine your worst enemy is having a bad day.  Imagine your worst enemy has the police and military at his disposal.  Plus an unlimited budget to hire amoral lawyers.  Suppose he hasn’t has his morning coffee, hasn’t been laid in a decade, his car was stolen this morning, his daughter just eloped to Botswana with a crossdressing unemployed mime, his dog peed on his shoe, and he just got kicked in the balls…then imagine him applying the regulation to you…good and hard.”

That is the mental image that will reduce regulation nationwide.  Eco-statists (is that a word?) would propose a lot fewer regulations if they imagined that Dick Cheney, Darth Vader, and a maniacal blogger named Curmudgeon got together to run the EPA and also enforce every Federal regulation whenever and however we saw fit.  Especially me because I’ve got a playful sense of humor and enjoy irony.  Imagine the games I could play!

“If you made the hammer; it’s your fault when you get pounded by it.”

Posted in Harangue-a-bang-bang!, Nanny State Moralizers | Leave a comment

The Spending Cut Tautology

The Gormogons has a fun response to an NYT article.

NYT (a.k.a. the New York Times) was foolish enough to float the following opinion:

“It has been obvious all along that cutting government services alone is not a solution to either the budget deficit or the mounting national debt.”

Which is a pitch slow and easy right over home plate.  Too delicious to pass up.  Here’s the response:

“False, and verifiably so. The only people to whom ‘[i]t has been obvious all along’ that cutting spending won’t solve a debt and deficit problem are liberals. As a matter of fact, cutting spending well below revenues will solve a deficit problem immediately, and will eventually solve a debt problem. See, if you spend less than you make, you cannot, by definition, be in a deficit. ‘Puter believes the term is ‘surplus.’ Let’s say it together, NYT editors:’Sur-plus.’ And, if you’re taking in more than you’re spending, you can use the surplus (there’s that word again) to pay down the debt.”

Indeed, he hit the nail on the head with a sledgehammer.  Spending less than you take in cannot mathematically produce a deficit.  I’ll add the following Curmudgeonly Gem Of Insight:

“Spending less than you take in is always an option, usually a good idea, and the difference between controlling your future and being a dumbass.”

Curmudgeons do not state things are true when they are not.  This is why I don’t have a job at the NYT.  Well that and the fact that I’d scare the editors and freak out the mailroom.  But that’s their loss!

Posted in Curmudgeonly Gems of Insight, Harangue-a-bang-bang! | 1 Comment

It’s Just A Phone

It’s no secret that I dislike “smart phones”.  (I also hate cell phones that spy on me, landline phone designs that screw me, and companies that merit a special place in hell.)  Honestly, what is it about telephones that brings out the Asshole in people?

I want a phone that’s cheap and makes a damn phone call.  Everything else, popular as it may be, is irrelevant.  I don’t want my truck to refrigerate beer, I don’t want my dog to make toast, I don’t want my door to make popcorn, and I don’t want my phone to play games.

So far, the cheapest and least annoying device I’ve found is a cheap old Trackphone.  With ample use of the “off” button, a Trackphone is “Curmudgeon Approved”.

That said, my old Trackphone is pretty hammered and it wont last forever.  Refusing to wade into the “smartphone” soup limits replacement options.  But now there is hope!

The ever interesting Roberta X posted briefly about John’s Phone.

Looks good to me!

What is John’s Phone?  According to the marketing blurb “it’s a no nonsense mobile phone, it doesn’t pretend to be anything more: no bullshit, just a phone to call, talk, and hang up.

Be still my beating heart!  There is sanity in the world!

In the entire known universe this is about the only cell phone I like.  Someday…when my much abused Trackphone craps out maybe I’ll “upgrade”.

Update…it was reviewed here and they pretty much hated it.  Partly mocking folks who would be crazy enough to even consider it:

“…the unsophisticated audience it apparently targets including tweeners, the elderly, or twenty-somethings whose aim is to be conspicuously cynical when placing their cellphone on top of the bar.”

Awesome!  I can be called unsophisticated, elderly, tweener (WTF?), a twenty-something, and conspicuously cynical just for considering a phone that won’t transmit photos of my junk?  Really?  Has it gone that far?

But then they follow up with legitimate concerns which might actually matter:

“The fact that all three of the device’s switches are so frustrating to use is simply unforgivable on such a basic cellphone that’s supposedly rooted in ‘great design.'”

Luckily my old Trackphone has plenty of life left…no rush to replace that which isn’t broke.

Honorable mention goes to the many places that still sell “brickphones”.  I’ve sniffed around that option several times and considered buying one.  Alas they tend to price Curmudgeons out of the market and seem like a hassle.

Behold the amazing technology of a brick phone!

Posted in Brilliance and Simplicity | Leave a comment

Dump Reflections Part III: The Cream Of The Crop

The citizens you meet at dumps are the cream of the crop! Want to know why America rocks? Go to a dump!

It was a flurry of activity. A couple dozen vehicles (which is a crowd in these parts) were speeding from pile to pile. Nearly every vehicle was a truck and most (mine included) were towing trailers. Rusty Toyotas and gleaming diesel monsters were equally represented. Everyone operated their vehicle with the subtle confidence of people who know what they’re doing.

Real Americans have equipment and they know how to use it.

There were no roads between piles; just informal narrow rutted dirt trails. Luckily every truck was expertly piloted; zipping efficiently and quickly from pile to pile. A Wal-mart parking lot reminds me of chimps at a zoo but here, in the natural habitat of men and trucks, machinery was flitting around like bees in a hive.

Cooperation reigned.  When vehicles met on narrow paths an instant and silent negotiation ensued. Everyone worked together to slip past each other. I saw three trucks zooming down a narrow dead end path while two trucks (both with trailers) approached in the opposite direction.  On a city street one or more would be piloted by a fool and it would slow everyone’s progress. There were no jackass antics here. Drivers immediately adapted. All five jockeyed into place; one paused, two continued, one backed up, and one eased off the path. With flawless precision and timing everyone took their turn filtering though the bottleneck. Elapsed time? Forty seconds tops. Total and instant cooperation among strangers! I’ve seen people screw up merging grocery carts. A dump brings out the best in men.

Yes, I said men. Every truck had from one to three men; occasionally you’d see a boy happily riding shotgun. Probably 50 people at a a time were hard at work with people entering and leaving in quick intervals. I saw only one woman; she was unloading a truck like everyone else. Good for her! In local lingo the men would admiringly say “she’s a keeper!” A woman can do anything a man can do but apparently men take out the garbage. I don’t know why.

Everyone was smiling. Did I mention that? Amid piles of junk everyone was as happy as a lark.

People who work have pride. Pride feels good.

Getting something done, even the mundane, is progress. Progress feels good.

People who are sullen and useless don’t go to the dump. Good thing too; we don’t need their drama. We’ve got work to do.

I lined up my trailer. It was a tight fit between two trucks. Three guys were hard at work emptying them. They saw me and nodded. Two shifted to the back and one jumped in the truck bed. My runway was clear. I engaged 4×4 and backed just right; easing up a steep muddy slope and swerving around nasty ruts. Whew! Backing with skill is imperative in the high society of a dump!

Before I’d opened my door, one of the adjacent trucks roared off and another was lining up to replace it. While I was heaving old siding on the pile I noticed a guy (who, like me, was there solo) that was struggling with some big sheets of plywood. I grabbed the other ends and helped. He thanked me and zoomed off.  The next person backed in just inches past my truck mirror. I wasn’t worried. If he couldn’t drive he wouldn’t be here. Three guys jumped out and started flinging old shingles while telling jokes.

I was unloading as fast as I could. Construction debris is heavy! I was about two thirds done. I’d just finished wrestling with an old plank and reached for the next item.  Half of the remaining load was gone. Huh? I looked up and two fellows were reaching in and chucking stuff fast and furious. “Gee thanks!” I stammered to one. “No sweat”, he said, “no use sitting on my ass waiting for you.” I glanced up and saw his truck lined up for my spot. Both doors were open. With their help the trailer was unloaded in 45 seconds. I thanked both fellows, dropped the truck in gear, and motored out. They waved and seconds later were occupying the spot I’d vacated.

Cooperation and independence. Chaos that generates order. Stunning efficiency.

I got in and out and moved a half ton of debris in 15 minutes. About the same speed as everyone else. When a group of people has no losers, industriousness takes hold.

It was heartening. Like everyone, I get concerned about our nation. We bear a lot of fat useless turds getting elected by other fat useless turds. The losers of society make things hard for the rest of us. Fortunately that’s not the whole picture. There is still a backbone of hard working, cooperative, industrious citizens. Folks who are equipped and willing to get things done. Folks who will help you unload your trailer because it’s a nice thing to do and because they want to get your ass out of the way. There are places where everyone has a goal and makes it happen. Places where nobody is bitching and everyone is happy because the people who bitch aren’t fouling the air. Go to a dump. You’ll find hope and optimism there. Americans who take out the trash continue to hold it together.

Posted in Libertarian Outpost | Leave a comment

Dump Reflections Part II: Ralph…Future Obamacare Administrator

My “dump”, like all government services, is managed specifically to be a pain in the ass. The dump is locked when it’s closed (because people will steal the garbage?). It’s open on a schedule that only a committee could devise. As far as I can tell it’s open from 2:35 pm to 4:27 pm on Thursdays and from dawn until the coffee runs out on alternate prime numbered Saturdays during the summer season which runs from the spring equinox through the opening day of deer season. Following the third moon after the neap tides it will revert to winter hours which have not yet been determined but which will be posted 30 days in advance on the bulletin board behind the coffee pot at the sheriff’s office. The dump is never open on Sunday because God said so. I can’t wait until these loons run medicine!

Being the kind of citizen that government hates, a person who has a job, it’s hard to get there when its open. I set my alarm to wake early (not too early!) Saturday morning. I move at glacial speed on Saturday mornings. Sometimes I miss my chance. I’m ok with that. I’m a land owning redneck homesteader and I’ve got room to store stuff. Also Saturday morning coffee is “me time”.

I haul everything with my open topped trailer. I rarely tie the load down. I prefer to stack debris based on aerodynamics and density. It’s a game. Planning the highway speed air flows of rotten plywood flung upon light plastic bags full of “ugh” is an art and a science. There are rules to this game: Density is king (heavy stuff stays put). Anything smaller than a quarter is fair game for “aerial distribution”. Anything that leaks out is recycled as an asphalt treatment. If something whips out and lands on the roadside you lose and have to go back and pick it up. Bonus round: if it smells exceptionally bad you should take it through the nearest McDonalds drive through!

The dump, like anything run by the government, requires regrettable personal interaction with regrettable persons. The local dump has one employee. I don’t know his name. I call him “Ralph” because Ralph is a friendly name and I’m trying to curb my natural impulse to call everyone “Asshole”. I’m sure he’s a nice guy at home but at work he’s moodier than a bi-polar grizzly. Now that I think about it…he smells like a grizzly too. On a good day he’ll smile and chat and I’ll think “that Ralph fellow is such a gentleman”. On a bad day I’ll wind up thinking “he’s an asshole and I’d pay good money to have him kidnapped and shipped to Bolivia in a cargo container filled with cobras and used car salesmen.”

On my most recent “dump run” I knew it was not a good day for Ralph. He sighed like my arrival was the saddest personal tragedy he’d experienced since his childhood dog died on Christmas morning. I could see the body language at 60 paces. He should get an Oscar for that kind of overacting. He waddled over to my truck while glaring at me like I was something he scraped off his shoe. He had a battered clipboard and carried it like a Samurai Sword.

He examined my trailer as if my garbage wasn’t up to his high standards. It wasn’t. No garbage is ever suitable for the suffering and overworked Ralph. No matter what I’m carrying he always complains that I’ve mixed different kinds of materials. He does this to everyone. The only people that would fill an entire load with just one kind of material are commercial haulers with dump trucks or exceptionally large farm families with thirty seven children generating used diapers by the ton.

As always I had to listen through an annoying lecture about sorting each waste component into each location in the dump. (Hint to Ralph: I can figure out where my wood waste goes using deductive reasoning and the presence of a sixty foot pile that’s composed entirely of wood.) Luckily, I always get through the gate in a few seconds. No matter how hard Ralph tries he’ll never be anything but a genius and a hero compared to the TSA.

Once you’re through the gate you’re done with government interaction. Everything looks brighter from this point on!

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Dump Reflections Part I: Garbage Is Not Solid Waste

When I was a kid I thought the dump was the coolest place on earth. I was right.

A “dump” is the glorious place where you dispose of both boring household garbage and cool stuff like broken lamps and trashed lawnmowers. You can learn a lot at a dump. Dumps are the non-metaphoric end of the line for the material possessions that make us better than cavemen. They’re also the end game of Wal-Mart consumerism which probably makes us worse.

Dumps are a window on local government because they’re run by an alphabet soup of local or regional entities. They’ll inexplicably try to obscure the purpose of a dump; calling it something euphemistic like “solid waste facility”. This is an affront to humanity and reason why bureaucrats are thought of as snobbish yahoos. It is a dump and all right thinking humans know that’s the proper word.

Urban and rural citizens have different relationships to the dump. The urban language is awash in smoke and mirrors vocabulary: City dwellers use (“are desperately dependent upon”) contractors (“monopolistic garbage disposal conglomerates”) to haul their solid waste (“crap”) to the solid waste facility (“dump”). They pay (“get screwed”) a lot (“hard”) for this voluntary (“mandatory”) service. Rural folk avoid euphemisms; we put crap in trucks and drive it to the dump. We can’t totally avoid the spin; we pay nothing (“get taxed”) for this “free” service (“not free”) and participate voluntarily (“voluntary in the sense that you can choose to not pay property taxes and wind up homeless”).

Hauling your own garbage is good for you. The antiseptic relationship suburbanites have with garbage hides realities. A sweaty redneck hefting a broken dishwasher onto a pile of discarded appliances understands the environment and recycling in ways that his urban brethren don’t. He’s less likely to get all atwitter about a recyclable grocery bag because he’s seen things.

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