'Do it my way and we'll all be happy!'

Riding the elevator in the Victoria apartment we live parttime, we were sharing with an elderly lady, who was perusing a new regulation notice posted in the lift. It was in response to something or other, and it meant that residents would no longer be able to do something they’d been permitted to do in the past.

“I hate being scolded,” the lady sniffed.

I agree. I too hate being scolded, and I balk with a vengeance against anybody who dares to tell me how to live my life. I am a law-abiding and responsible human being, and I am also one who is prepared to take my lumps if I screw up. But, don’t ‘tell’ me how to live my life.

I had controlling parents, a controlling first wife, and school I largely detested because it gave me so little room for anything resembling free will. And today’s society is filled with petty controllers; jerks that assume they know better than I do how to conduct myself. Assholes who give me no credit for common sense believe they reserve the right to direct me.

Indeed, the increase in regulation has assumed an exponentiality that seems endless. The rule boys and girls have already turned air travel into a nightmare, but they are not content to stop at that. We are also told how we must eat, how we must drink, what we must feed our children, and what lightbulbs we should be burning in our homes. We’re even told how to pee – or at least what to do after we’ve peed. More and more restrooms now have signs directing us to wash up afterwards. Well, if Mom didn’t already do that, too bad. And yes, I do wash my hands, but I don’t need some teeny-minded bureaucrat to remind me. Mainly because if I choose to ‘not’ wash, it’s nobody’s damn business.

Reminds me of an old story.

Army sergeant and sailor are standing next to each other at a urinal. Sailor finishes and goes to exit the restroom. Sergeant says to the departing gob: “Army washes its hands, sailor.” Sailor replies: “Navy doesn’t piss on its hands, sergeant.”

About three years ago a young man in BC named Grant DePatie made a really dumb decision. He was faced with a gas-up and run creep at the service station at which he worked. Grant’s dumb and tragic decision was to go after the creep. He ended up being dragged by the car and killed. Awful story.

Now, as of February 1st, all service stations in BC will be pay at the pump. No ifs, ands or buts. That is, everybody is to be inconvenienced thanks to a very bad judgment call by one young man. It is called ‘Grant’s Law’ and has been imposed by the government. Nobody asked me or anybody else if they were seeking such a law. Nobody asked service station operators if they were seeking such a law. Well, in a more reasoned time, it would have been up to the business owner if such a rule were to be put into place. In other words, it was none of the government’s goddamn business. Still ain’t, in my esteem.

It’s not a big deal for me to pay at the pump, since I already do. The big deal is being told by officialdom that I must. Give us all some credit, for heaven's sake. I don't need a 'benevolent' police state to protect me.

Now, don’t even get me started on this fluorescent lightbulbs that they plan to impose on us, but have offered no suggestions whatsoever how those mercury bearing twisty bits of pseudo-light are to be disposed of in an environmentally safe manner.

And that, dear friends, is your Monday rant from me.