My sainted wife often uses the
phrase, “He has to build you a watch to tell you the time.” Those special words are used by her to
describe me.
A simple “verbose” or
“long-winded” would suffice, but not to her.
This way she can make a point and underline it with a stout, permanent
Magic Marker.
With that being said, let’s get
started with today’s watch-building exercise.
I’m currently in the process of
replacing a modest garage of questionable stability – not unlike the current Speaker
of the House – with a new, larger one.
The old garage consisted of board-and-batten construction, and was
constructed roughly 90-years ago.
Termites and destructive salt air
have taken their toll; the only things holding it up were termite poop and good
luck.
To eliminate any chance of
injuring local thieves who might break in and steal rusty yard equipment I tore
it down after deciding to rebuild anew.
It wasn’t difficult.
I diligently visited my county
seat-of-government to obtain a permit.
The nice man at the desk patiently listened to my plight before offering
a resounding “NO!”
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| Easy summer reading material |
It seems as though the old
garage, which stood in its original location for nearly a century – without
bothering anyone – was now too close to the property line. It hadn’t moved since its original
construction, but it was too close and needed to be moved 3 ½ feet further from
the property line. Amen.
Seven trees worth of paperwork, a
building permit fee, application for a variance, and $460, got me inches closer
to rectifying my situation.
Of course this vital information
was necessary before publication in the local newspaper for weeks before the
zoning appeals meeting. This whole
process took five months before I was called to the meeting.
Armed with photos, documentation
on distances, health department maps, and positive letters from neighbors, my
sainted wife and I trudged our way to the seat-of-government.
There, we pled our case and after
a few minutes, we were granted the variance to build a larger, safer structure
the same distance from the property line.
Problem solved.
Unfortunately, the COVID-19 virus
struck with a vengeance and the entire Milky Way was subject to house arrest,
shortly thereafter.
Between the arrival of inclement
winter weather and the WuFlu, my new garage project sat idle for a few months
before I called for a foundation inspection from the county. Alas, my permit had expired, and I needed to
begin this entire process anew.
Several strategically placed
phone calls quickly rectified this manufactured crisis, but not before a
thorough dose of antacids and a few ho
urs of yelling at Smokey the Cat (just
because he was handy.)
urs of yelling at Smokey the Cat (just
because he was handy.)
It was at this time I became
reflective about where we are as a society, and how we got here.
We regularly hear how we live in
the land of “freedom.” We don’t. We live in the land of “NO!” generated by the
powers-that-be who are drunk with authority.
Allow me to explain.
In 1890, 130-years ago, America
But those 13-decades helped usher
in more and more regulations that quietly eroded our nation’s freedoms.
As you can see I needed a permit
to build a garage. But you may also need a permit to do the following things in
today’s progressive America
- Collect rain water
- Protest
- Own a gun
- Cut hair
- Go fishing
- Start a business
- Sell products
- Own property
- Marry
- Build a house
- Hunt
We have gone from deciding our
directions in our lives to ceding our rights to the government. And while some of these permits are required
in the name of safety, others are merely revenue-generating exercises.
And the time is now for you to
keep these freedom-robbing regulations in mind when casting your ballot for
elected officials at any and all levels of government, my dear sainted wife.
