=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= I Could Not Make Him Understand... ---------------------------------- I was at the DMV the other day. It's not something I like to do on a regular basis, but... it is slightly preferable to spending the night in jail because you don't have all your paperwork in order. I walked in and ... nothing... nothing at all... not a single solitary goddamned thing. I waited in a long line, for a long time. Waiting, waiting to be called on by some overpaid un-needed civil servant. Yes, the phrase is civil servant. The question I have is this: Why is the hell do they call themselves civil servants when their job duties are demanding service _from_ me, by force of law? The only *service* they provide is to accept the needless paperwork which they demand of me. Hardly my idea of a service. I wasn't exactly considering leaving a tip. So there I was, waiting. Doing nothing. Wasting my time. Giving to the government more of the short amount of lifespan I have been granted on this earth. Recently, I switched jobs. I am now an overpaid hourly contractor. Every minute I spent standing in that needless line waiting to fill out that needless paperwork cost me money. Every dollar I didn't make meant a dollar that the government could not tax. I lost revenue. The government lost revenue. And what was the purpose for all of this waiting? To get a new little plastic card to replace my old little plastic card. Eventually, my turn was up. The little man behind the counter stared at me as I slid my old little plastic card across the counter. The little man stared at his little terminal for a long time as if it were the Oracle at Delphi. The little man proceeded to explain to me that the little green letters glowing on his screen meant that I would not be able to get a new little plastic card to replace my old little plastic card. I am, according to most people who know me, a computer genius. The little man was most definitely not. I calmly explained to him that the little green growing letters were simply not telling him the truth and that a simple phone call to an actual human would straighten everything out and allow me to go on about my business. I could not make him understand. The little man worshipped his little terminal with the little green glowing letters. To the little man, his terminal represented the entirety of the American system. His terminal was how the government chose to comunicate to him. The government that fed him, clothed him, sheltered him, gave his life meaning -- this terminal was his link with that government. I, on the other hand, was just a filthy human. I was the source of all of the little mans problems. The benevolent goverment paid him to come to this place and talk with this terminal and all day long filthy humans would come in and bother him. I was one of those filthy humans. I wanted something from him. I was being a burden upon him. And the little green glowing letters on the terminal said that I was not to have what I came for.. Eventually, I left. I returned some time later with a little white piece of paper. The little white piece of paper was not as magic as the little green glowing letters on the little terminal, but it would do. It would do because it was (ostensibly) a little white piece of paper from another branch of the little mans benevolent government. What the little white piece of paper said was that I, the filthy human, was telling the truth. Little matter that the little piece of paper was printed on a cheap dot matrix printer and could have been forged with less effort than it would take to fake a simple cash register receipt. The little man took my old little plastic card and had me fill out some more needless paperwork. Then he told me to go sit and wait some more. After that a big woman told me to stand in front of an expensive camera. The expensive camera displayed my picture on a computer screen. The big woman then told me to sign my name on an expensive electronic pad and press my right thumb against another expensive electronic pad. Then, unsuprisingly at this point, she told me to go wait some more. After quite a long time and quite a bit of lost revenue for both myself and the IRS, the big woman called my name. I walked over and she handed me a new little plastic card to replace my old little plastic card. I still don't understand what was so wrong with my old little plastic card. During this whole ordeal, I was more than a bit angry. I do not like wasting my time, whether or not it is billable time. Even if I am not billing for my time, I have quite an impressive list of other projects that I would much rather do than whiling away the hours at the local Department of Motor Vehicles. The little man... his reality is his little terminal with the little green glowing letters. The big woman, her reality is her expensive camera. Neither of them could understand why on earth I might be angry with them. To their way of thinking, they were doing me a favor. They were giving me one of these very important and valuable little plastic cards. I should be grateful for the service they were rendering. Except, they weren't rendering a service. They were merely acting as tools of a police state. Left to my own resources, I would have no need for a little plastic card. The government has mandated that *I* must have a current little plastic card, under threat of imprisonment. How then can I look upon the employees of the Department of Motor Vehicle employees as civil servants? Instead, it appears that I am a civilian servant of my governmental masters. To my way of thinking, the little man was a representative of an oppressive totalitarian regime. To his way of thinking, he was just reading little green glowing letters off of his little terminal and doing what he was told. I would have loved to explain how I felt to the little man, but I just could not make him understand. Epilogue: Herein lies a truth about a great trouble looming over our country today. The nation is polarizing, dividing into two disparate groups of individuals. Individuals who are so far apart they are unable to understand the positions of those on the other side of the great fixed gulf. Over 100 years ago, Abraham Lincoln stated that "No nation divided against itself can long endure." Today, we are seeing the beginnings of a nation dividing against itself. Unlike our nations earlier conflict, this one does not divide us geographically. The opposing parties are neighbors. Our children attend the same schools. We buy groceries at the same stores. We cheer for the same football teams. And yet... we do not communicate. We talk, but the vast philosophical space separating our disparate positions prevents us from truly communicating. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, etc etc... = = Internet : jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = gote land +27.31.441115 = = Arrested Development +31.77.3547477 = = Global Chaos +61.2.681.2837 = = Chemical Persuasion 203.324.0894 Undrgrnd Indust/Inc. 207.490.2158 = = Damnation 212.861.0580 that stupid place 215.985.0462 = = Hacker's Haven 303.516.9969 PheedbacK ----down---- = = E.L.F. 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