FUUCCKKK YOOOUUU!!!!

FUCK YOU USPS I HOPE YOU CONTINUE TO GET YOUR FUCKING HORRIBLY INCOMPETENT LAZY ASSES STEAM ROLLED BY UPS AND FEDEX YOU ARE USELESS PIECES OF SHIT.

I'm sick of it. Just, fucking sick of it.

I can't handle society anymore.

I went to court today to defend myself against what I knew to be two unjust tickets. A PG County officer, as admitted to the judge today, pulled me over because "it looked like" I was speeding. He ran my plates AFTER pulling me over for a bullshit reason and found that I was driving on a suspended registration. Here's a $150 fine. Why was I driving on a suspended registration? Because I failed to get my emissions test. Why? Because I moved twice and my MVA emissions notice was never forwarded to me. Oh, you didn't tell the MVA you moved? Here's another $50 fine. Seriously, all the officer had to do was tell me to fix these errors and no harm done.

But fuck all that. It doesn't matter.

What matters is that an officer pulled me over on a hunch. A guess. That's what's called in legal terms "unreasonable suspicion" or, "illegal". 

It's equatable to a cop seeing a skeevy looking dude, grabbing him, looking into his pockets and finding marijuana and saying "A-HA! You're under arrest!" In order to seize a person or their belongings, an officer must have a "reasonable suspicion" that a crime is taking place, e.g., the cop has arrested this man many times before for drug possession and witnesses him walking away from a drug dealer, or in my case, have more reasonable evidence that I was speeding other than it "looked like" I was. A radar gun would work, or pacing my vehicle, or witnessing me traveling faster than the rest of traffic, or seeing a speed camera flash, etc... 

Anyway, in both my and the skeevy joint guy's situation, any evidence found after the fact is inadmissible in court. Due process must be followed. This is how murders get off after they're found holding a bloody knife over the victim. It's because some officer didn't follow due process and forgot to read him his rights or whatever. You find someone committing a crime THEN you stop them. You don't stop them THEN find out the crime. 

When I told the judge this today his response was, basically, "Well, the officer ran your plates and found you driving on a suspended licence. That makes pulling you over okay. If he would not have found anything, then I'd agree with you."

WHAT THE FUCK?

Who the hell are you? Who taught you to be a judge? 

This guy?

Or did you watch too much of this?

Either way, you're a fucking moron. 

I can't handle judges siding with police and milking me out of money when I made the effort to take off work, wear a suit and defend what was obviously an illegal stop.

You can't fucking pull people over just because. You can't. Well, officer Italiano DOES. What's with that name anyway? Italiano. It's actually fitting because it was obvious that 'ol tubbs enjoys his pasta. The only criminal he'd actually run to catch is the Hamburglar. 

But fuck all that. It doesn't matter.

What matters is that I can't handle society anymore.  

Fucking tolls.

Fucking inspections.

Fucking permits.

Fucking service charges.

Fucking corporations.

Fucking fines.

Fucking dues.

Fucking regulations.

Fucking policies.

Fucking insurance.

Fucking interest.

Fucking taxes.

Fucking registration.

Fucking licenses.

Fucking overdraft fees.

Fucking 9/10th's at a gas station.

Fucking deductibles. 

Fucking entrance fees.

Fucking ATM fees.

Fucking convenience fees.

FUCKING FEES.

Point is, I can't wait to put so much distance between me and the rest of the world. I don't want an address. I don't want mail. I don't want bills. I don't want the government up my ass about everything I do on my own land. If I want to build a house I'm going to do it and I'm not going to get anyone's fucking permission.

I understand that without going totally grizzly you have to stay connected somewhat, and that's fine, but I plan on keeping it to an absolute minimum. I'm just sick of how much the government and businesses are over your shoulder and in your pocket. 

But fuck all that. It doesn't matter.

Just leave me the fuck alone. 

Burned out house on Arden Noville Rd.

 The iPhone can take some pretty great pictures when the light is perfect. No filters needed to hide the poor image quality. I love the sharpness of this one.

A creepy mattress in the attic is better than a creepy mattress in a basement.

Martinsburg photographs

Martinsburg photographs, late February

 It seems as though every single person in Martinsburg has one of these in their front yard.

Martinsburg photographs

Since I'll be living in Martinsburg for a while I might as well try and find some shit that looks cool and take a picture of it. When I do, I'll post it on here.

Selling our house.

So, the past few months our house has been on the market. This November will be 6 months and we’ve had more viewings than I can account for, with only one of those visits evolving into an actual offer which was ruined by the carelessness of their realtor. I am at work today thinking about all this and thought to write it down, not to alleviate any sort of stress, just to kind of flush out the pipes.

Luckily we’re not up against a wall and have to sell; we really don’t “have” to sell until spring of next year, we just want to sell.  But the hardest thing about selling isn’t immaculately cleaning the house every time, taking the pets somewhere, waiting, or even the lack of offers in spite of 15+ viewings; it’s the constant small talk you have to make about it with friends and family.

I feel bad for couples who are unsuccessfully trying to have a child and constantly get asked by people “So, how’s the baby-making coming along???” Obviously, if they have a kid, you’ll know. Otherwise it’s just adding insult to injury. In the same line, I constantly get asked how the house selling is going. “Oh, it’s going great, it hasn’t sold yet!” is not an option. It’s not the same as asking someone how unlocking all the achievements in Call of Duty is going, we’re talking about something I have that costs hundreds of thousands of dollars that I don’t necessarily want anymore and can’t unload. It’s actually kind of embarrassing. Every time someone makes an inquiry to the status of the house I have to be reminded, and remind them, that it is, and I am, still ultimately a (potentially costly) failure. That sounds a little harsh but it seems to be the reality.

I’m very confident in my home. So far, the vast majority of people who come for a viewing love it. I can hear people oohing and ahhing while I stand outside near the open window. The only person who didn’t like it was a girl who, for some reason, expected a place that looked like a condo. I have to imagine that she saw the interior photos of the house and decided to waste my time anyway. This past weekend I had a couple come for a viewing and they loved the house, but expressed that they had to take care of his decrepit mother who “has a real hard time with stairs.” Excuse me? Stairs? You told me a day earlier that you loved the look of the house; did you fail to notice that it’s TWO STORIES? How do you think I get up there? I didn’t install a fucking escalator if that’s what you thought. Good luck finding a rancher in Baltimore City.

It really hasn’t been that bad overall. We’re saving a lot of money by avoiding a realtor, doing the extra leg work ourselves and getting a bit of an education in the process. In the end, it’s just a waiting game.