One Man's Trash

Another Man's Treasure...


I've really had it right up to here (pointing to the top of my ever greying, ever balding head) with trash services here in Glynn County and the City of Brunswick.

In a little over three days I already have trash overflowing out of my ears and coming out of my butt here at the new house on our little island (located in unincorporated Glynn County), and I also have a virtual landfill on the unpaved ally side of my property over in Brunswick that the head of the Brunswick Sanitation Department has been promising to remove since May.

The problem seems to revolve around government mandated monopolies--in one case one hired by Glynn County, and the second actually operated by the City of Brunswick.

Since Glynn County is the entity most recently to cause their property tax owners to fall victim to this scam bullshit malfeasance, I'll talk about them first.

It seems that a few years ago the County Commissioners noticed there is a bit of a problem with dumping of household garbage and other refuse on private property and along the highways and other "public" property.

Rather than enforcing the existing littering and dumping laws on the members of the "public" which were guilty of causing the problem, the elected County assholes morons Commissioners decided to pass the responsibility and associated costs of their purported solution on to the private property owners of Glynn County.

They did this by hiring a private company to do the trash collection at homes and businesses which did not have dumpsters or other means of refuse disposal already in place, in the process adding the cost of the service to the land/property owner's annual property tax bill. (Our condo had dumpsters and it's own service personnel on site so we were exempt from this mandate.)

No if's, and's, or but's, about it, now if you own a house in Glynn County you will have government mandated trash service...even if your house is unoccupied, burns down, or due to it's condition, is otherwise un-occupyable.

Of course there was a huge public outcry and lots of gnashing of teeth, but in the end the government won out and, as a delayed result, today I had my first experience with Southland Waste Systems and their rocket scientist employees.

Yesterday I found from out my neighbor that Monday was "trash day" here on my street and further, that I had to make sure that my company/county supplied trashcan was not over filled--the lid had to close.

No problem...so far so good...

I had a trashcan sitting beside my garage when the moving truck drove up on Saturday, and we'd produced lots of trash since then so I seemed set to take advantage of the service that our landlord was paying for.

Only problem was, what my well intended neighbor did not tell me was that my "curbside" service was not actually at our house's "curbside."

Imagine that?

Oh yeah..the GOVERNMENT is involved, and that means that the meanings of ordinary words are never what you would normally expect them to be.

Evidently, by "curbside" service here in Glynn County, they mean some "curbside" other than MY curbside--a curbside that their giant truck can drive up to and pick up the can with some kind of manipulator arm to do the dumping with.

Any way, a little after noon today I noticed that the truck driver and his assistant busied themselves spending at least five minutes moving back and forth outside my driveway entrance avoiding my trashcan, even having the extra man actually exit the air conditioned cab of the truck to pick up and empty a few recycling containers, but when the dust settled and Pat came home from shopping we found that OUR TRASHCAN WAS STILL FULL.

No note, no gentle reminder, no nothing, just a can full of trash from moving and another week to wait for the next scheduled trash service.

Here's what I'm going to do.

First I'm calling in to the local Radio talk show at 7 AM tomorrow morning to tell my story.

Next I'm calling my county commissioner.

Of course all I expect to hear is lame excuses and promises to do better in the future, but in the end I will probably be told that it is my fault for not asking my landlord how far down the block and on which side of the street to place my trashcan.

I vaguely remember hearing talk show callers in the past complaining about having to have their trashcans 12 feet (or some other random number) from mailboxes, telephone poles, other trash cans) but it didn't occur to me until the damage was done.

What total bullshit.

I live on a cul-de-sac with a one way 12 foot wide strip of asphalt (which badly needs repaving by the aforementioned "county officials") that wraps in and out around giant Live Oak Trees and islands of vegetation.

My house apparently sits in a position where a $7 per hour employee would have to actually exit the air conditioned cab of the 500' long garbage truck in order to retrieve my trash can sitting adjacent to the road anywhere on the frontage.

God forbid that Southland Waste Systems should employ some smaller trucks or hire people to grab hold of an errant but innocently misplaced trashcan every now and then on some of the older narrow inner island streets here on St. Simons.

As is typical with any solution provided by the government, it's ONE SIZE FITS ALL, DAMMIT.

And is also typical with government, the customer is NEVER RIGHT.

Do I have a second on that motion?

All in favor?

Those Opposed?

The yeas have it...

(Next on my agenda...the City of Brunswick's abysmal "Insanitation Sanitation" Department.)

Falling Down & Screwing Up

Best Laid Plans Of Mouse & Man...


Well, we're HERE.

The only problem is, bits and pieces of our stuff is...

STILL over THERE.

By "over THERE", I mean over at the Condo.

Dang it...

We only managed to make two of the five or six final trips in my Suburban yesterday, with yesterday's second excursion featuring a final visit to the swimming pool.

Pat and Missy the Turbo Pup hung out poolside because Pat's back is bothering her, and I spun around in circles moving most of the plants out onto the front patio and loading another load of boxes and the more fragile stuff on board the SUV.

The ambient temperature was about 94 degrees F, with a heat index over 104 degrees F by 6 PM. We came home, unloaded most of our booty, and I collapsed on the sofa.

Then I got back up and, after making a late pizza dinner featuring a funky "eyeballed " crust (the measuring cups got left over at the Condo), I was asleep in the bed by 10 PM.

I woke up at midnight with a huge headache and with every muscle in my body cramping--at least that's the way it felt like.

It was my own fault. I sorta forgot to drink much Gatorade yesterday, and the water and white wine I consumed poolside just didn't get it when it came to replacing the minerals lost while sweating out a couple of gallons of my insides in the loading and moving process.

After drinking a few quarts of Gatorade and jumping around the living room walking like a three legged dog for an hour or so, I finally managed to settle down about four AM and get some more sleep. Come 8 AM I was still groggy and weak and, as a result, today has been a bust when it comes to picking up and moving more stuff from point A to point B.

As a further deterrent, the Weather Channel says that today it's a frigid NINETY SEVEN DEGREES FAHRENHEIT outside, with a heat index near 110, so paying our old landlord another $34 is an acceptable penance for my middle aged slovenly conditioning.

Expert procrastination has ensued all day, using my faint heart and wobbling legs as a mental excuse. I ended up sleeping until noon, then I did manage to open and unpack a few boxes standing inside in AC comfort while Pat made a rare solo jaunt over to Brunswick to pick up some necessities.

Just now when it came time to sneak back over to the condo we realized that Georgia Power had probably turned off the electricity because we were supposed to move last Wednesday rather than Saturday.

Sure enough, after placing a phone call and enduring the inevitable English/Spanish menu questions, we learned the juice was indeed off as of about noon today, but they would be happy to turn it back on for a $22 fee.

Sure...go ahead...it's only MONEY.

So I'm going to lounge around breaking down empty boxes, pack plastic bags full of foam peanuts, and cram bubble wrap squares back into the original boxes and possibly attempt to stash the whole moving mishmash somewhere up into the attic over the garage.

Then I'm going to write myself an industrial strength rant about the stupidity of the County GOVERNMENT forcing its home owning citizens and landlords to accept paying for trash services in their property tax bill.

No competition equals crappy service, no matter what the stupid "Bureaucrats" and popularly elected "gummunt officials" tell you...

Boxaphobia

Pack Me Up & Ship Me To Jamaica...


Well, ninety-five percent of our stuff is sitting here, mostly still in boxes.

Actually maybe ninety-eight percent.

Originally I was just going to move the plants and the framed photos and other flat fragile stuff hanging on the walls, but we managed to run out of room on the truck yesterday, so I inherited having to move anything left over that would fit into the Suburban.

That included Pat's desk, a bunch of chairs and patio stuff, and a bunch of "space storage" bags full of sheets and blankets...crap we'll probably never use again but every woman loves to hold onto "just in case."

So any way, we anticipate making five or six more round trips today, plus having to clean up the place, then we can focus our attention on opening all the boxes and surprising ourselves with what isn't broken and what wasn't labeled, weighs 100 pounds, and is sitting in the wrong room of the house.

I'd really like to design and build us a house to live in down here and get out of this paying rent business, but then again--when the Weather Nerds over at the Weather Channel start freaking out and NOAA puts a big Hurricane symbol on the map heading toward Northeast Florida and Southeast Georgia I'm happy that I only own the contents of the building I'm sleeping in.

Speaking of Hurricanes, the Federal Flood Insurance Program (something that I've bitched about as being taxpayer subsidised insurance for wealthy people) threw us a curve ball last week and is making us endure yet another 30 day waiting period before our coverage goes into effect.

Three months premium for one month of coverage...the government definitely put the screws to us on this one if something wet and windy comes roaring ashore here before September 1st.

Still, if the coverage is available and cheep (about $350 per year), I'm gonna sign up and send in a check.

I guess that you could call it "Just Rewards" for being a hypocrite...

Five Hours Later...

The Truck's Gone


Al and his guys have already came and raised a dust cloud, and when they pulled out of the driveway we were three hundred and twenty five dollars richer than if we had worked with our original asshole mover that stood us up.

Time to grab a bite to eat and head back over to pick up the scraps.

I'm tired.

T-Minus Eight Hours...

And Counting


Didn't I mention earlier that I HATE moving?

Yeah...I believe that I did.

Right now I wish that I could just leave town for 24 hours and come back to find everything moved from the condo to the new house here on our little island.

Instead, I'm still looking at filling another dozen or so boxes with last minute stuff and packing both vehicles full of things like plants and lamp shades before our truck and crew shows up at 8 AM this morning.

Missy the Turbo Pup has taken things quite well thus far--getting used to negotiating a maze of boxes here and wandering around her new yard at the other place when we go over to work or deliver stuff.

Since it's rained about four inches over the past 48 hours here, I'm really hoping that God gives us a break tomorrow for a few hours so that that our furniture and boxes don't get soggy in the process.

In the mean time the media has apparently discovered all of the facts about the condition of our nation's bridges that I mentioned earlier, the democrats and other usual suspects are already blaming President Bush for spending all of the bridge repair money in Iraq and the Global Warming Moonbats are barking about the hot weather causing the collapse.

I guess that I don't have it so bad down here after all, so I believe that I'll go back to packing now.

Wish us luck...If you will.

Rain

Global Warming Sucks...


I have a truck coming at 8 AM tomorrow morning, having fired Mr. Moving Guy #1 and hiring Mr. Moving Guy #2 a couple of days ago.

In the mean time, the condo swimming pool is overflowing and all my outside plants are about to float away, the Weather Channel says that there is a flash flood watch in effect for our area, but things will improve later today.

Maybe a nice slow drizzle rather than a steady downpour?

I've got to go paint the foyer of the new house now.

Squish...


.

Progress (Or The Lack Thereof)

Taking Matters Into Your Own Hands


I'm sitting here this morning watching the FOX News reporters spazzing out about the I-35 West bridge collapse which occurred during last evening's during rush hour, and as is usual I'm having to wince and avert my eyes from the stupidity on display by the media in the aftermath of an engineering disaster.

One of the reporters was interviewing some "bridge engineer" live on the telephone and came up with the question "do you think that this situation amounts to 'criminal negligence'?"

The self described "expert" replied..."NO."

Thank God that for once an "Expert" managed to hold his emotions and tongue in check while talking in front of TV cameras and not evoke FEMA or some other knee jerk reaction so early in the process when virtually nothing is known about the event or it's actual physical causes.

Being a fairly well educated competent mechanical engineer, and also having a great deal of practical experience working in the fields of steel and concrete structural engineering, I happen to know something about bridge design and further, about the condition of highway bridges here in the US.

My forensic engineering consulting experience has caused me to spend time reading about the history of engineering disasters, and one thing I've learned in the process is that we are all in big trouble when it comes to the condition of our nation's bridges, and your Government knows about the problem and is doing virtually nothing about it.

Here's the situation in a nutshell.

If it were up to me, I'd never drive across another bridge without first knowing that the bridge had been inspected and/or repaired by competent personnel.

By "competent personnel," I'm basically excluding the government at all levels and the associated government contractors usually employed by the "departments of transportation."

(Yes, I agree that there are a lot of good engineers and many well intended people involved in the bureaucratic process, but I'm afraid that the outcome isn't what was intended much of the time...so don't start E-mailing me saying your Uncle or cousin or mother works for the State DOT and you're coming to my new front door with a load of hot asphalt to repave my butt with...)

That said, I also admit that I cross six bridges every time I drive between our little island and the mainland, and I do this at least three days each week.

So you can feel free to call me a hypocrite because I know about and complain about the problem, but I also insist on ignoring it on a daily basis.

You see, our governments have been taking our tax money--stuff like gas taxes and car tag taxes originally designated for road and bridge construction and maintenance--and instead of fixing old bridges they're focused on building new bridges and widening existing bridges on a wholesale basis in order to meet traffic demands, when they should be spending the majority of our money REPLACING existing bridges that are in crappy, unsafe condition.

They also steal a good deal of the money intended for transportation infrastructure and spend it on "social programs"--things like providing cheese food products and diapers for un-wed mothers living on WIC and "Earned Income Tax Credits."

If you want to give yourself a good scare, go to US Department of Transportation Federal Highway Administration Website and look at the number of bridges that are identified as "structurally deficient" and "functionally inadequate."

I just did a spreadsheet to do my own calculations, and according to the data on that website 12.35% of the bridges (73,694 out of 596,808 bridges) are structurally deficient and 13.43% (80,177 out of 596,808 bridges) are "functionally inadequate"...whatever that means.

It's not like I sit around at night re-packing my parachute or stuffing my car full of life preservers each morning before I drive across the causeway over the water and marshes to the mainland, but believe me when I say that I do worry a little about the condition of things under my tires each day. I also believe that the moron's that I witness whizzing past me at 60 MPH in a 35 MPH speed zone that the government allows to keep their driving privileges represent a greater danger to me than than falling steel and concrete beams.

So any way...you can look for this story to fester and swirl for another few days, then things will go back to the status quo with the media's Barack Obama/Hillary Clinton cheer leading party and the Global Warming Hysteria Show.

In closing, just remember that we kill over 40,000 people each year in auto accidents without bridges falling on peoples heads and from under their tires. Then there is also still the risks poised by lightening and shark attacks, not to mention angry, misguided, wild-eyed, towel headed, middle eastern Muslims intent on imposing Allah's will on all of us infidels.

Y'all have a nice day now...If you will...I've got to go finish packing up my belongings...

.

I'm An Incompentence Magnet

Intelligent, Qualified, Conscientious Persons Need Not Apply...


I have a few questions to ask this morning:

#1. How can you run a City government when no one is there to answer the telephone?

#2. How can you run a Cable/Internet company when the person on the other end of your 1-800 telephone number doesn't know where St. Simons Island is and can't make decisions about installation schedules and costs?

#3. How can you run a moving company when you won't answer the telephone or return phone calls?

#4. Finally, how can you run a moving company and not tell your customers when you will pick up their stuff? (See #3 above)

Regardless, we'll be taking possession of the new house today, but our August 2nd through 4th moving window is now somewhere out the window later than planned (maybe the 6th or 7th?)

Mr. Moving Guy will hopefully be getting back with us sometime between now and then.

In the mean time, I think that it's time to go clean my guns now...

.

I Was Robbed

Police Department Useless...Again


I've mentioned here on the blog in the past that, although I still believe in the idea of public law enforcement and harbor a basic respect for law enforcement personnel in general, I find that the implementation of law enforcement to be quite lacking in reality.

Let's face the facts folks: The Police, being human, tend to focus their efforts on high profile crimes like murder, unpopular things like DUI, and violations which are easy to catch like speeding, while letting the majority of daily infractions go undeterred and unprevented.

I see more bullshit driving in one trip to Brunswick from our little island than should ever be tolerated--things like following too closely, weaving from lane to lane, running yellow and red traffic lights--but the police are content to sit by the side of the road smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee while their radar unit does their job for them.

I have a looooooonnnnnnnnggggg history of being a victim of crime, and only once have the police managed to actually catch anyone or do anything about what the vermin of society elected to do to me and my property.

For instance, in my life to date, I've survived:

1. A robbery in a Pizza Hut in Atlanta in 1979 where one of the assholes doing the robbery beat me in the head with a pistol (he broke the barrel off the piece-of-shit gun in the process.)

2. I lost a 1956 Chevy Belair that my Grandfather left me and that I was in the process of restoring. Some idiots drug it from the shed on our family farm on flat tires, onto a trailer, and delivered it to a junkyard where it was crushed for scrap.

It only had about 60,000 miles on it in 1978.

3. I've had my home broken into while in college, losing my class rings and other possessions like a TV and stereo.

4. I've had my S-10 Blazer broken into in Atlanta while attending a Georgia Tech basketball game, losing a stereo and a car phone and a $300 passenger side window.

5. I've had my Suburban broken into while sitting in the driveway of my Atlanta home, losing about $1000 worth of CD's and a neat little telescope (and a $500 side window.)

6. I've had my home broken into and the damaged contents ransacked twice after the building was basically destroyed by fire. Things like my coin collection and and antique radio were taken, even though they were black with smoke and wet with water.

7. I've had my car sitting in the driveway of the burned house vandalized in a theft attempt ($3,000 damage to a car worth $2,500.)

8. Had my rental property in Brunswick broken into three times to date, resulting in the THEFT OF MY PORCELAIN KITCHEN SINK in 2006.

The thing that each of these events had in common, with the exception of the Pizza Hut robbery, was that I had to personally FORCE the respective police/police department to even get excited enough to file a report.

Many if not most of the time I had to go to the Police Station to file the report because the police were supposedly too busy to come out and even try to look for evidence or dust for fingerprints.

Only once has anyone actually been caught and convicted (the car vandals) of the crimes which I have endured.

It was frightening how bored the police acted while taking our statements after the Pizza Hut robbery, and although I said that I could identify the robbers, I never heard another word from the Atlanta police after the incident.

The imbecile prosecutor on the car vandalization case sent me an incorrect court date via mail, and when I was unable to drive on one day notice from Florida to Atlanta to attend the hearing (after previously driving to Atlanta and filing a deposition regarding the cost of the vandalism), then the court refused, because of my absence, to award me any financial compensation from my teen aged black perpetrators.

The little bastards are probably bouncing between jail and the street today, if someone hasn't already put a bullet into the back of their miserable heads.

Now fast forward to Yesterday...

When I walked into my construction project, as usual, I was armed with tools, a couple of gallons of Gatoraid, and breakfast from McDonalds.

So far so good.

Then I decided to wash out a plastic cup and have myself a drink of Gatoraid with my bacon, egg, and cheese bagel.

What, no water pressure?

I paid the bill (I think), but I had no water.

Being the astute, prepared engineer and rocket scientist that I am, I grabbed my "tee handle" water valve tool and wandered out to the street.

Sure enough, the water was turned off.

"Certainally there is some clerical error", I thought, and with a quick ninety degree twist of the "tee handle" I'd have water again to wash my cup with.

Wrong...Mr. Sawdust breath...

I heard a gushing sound, and when I turned to look over my shoulder I saw water shooting out of the side of my building, into the air, twenty feet onto the adjacent vacant property.

Just Damn...

I turned the water supply off, and upon inspection I discovered that SOMEONE HAD STOLEN SIX FEET OF TEMPORARY COPPER TUBING CONNECTING MY WATER SUPPLY TO THE WATER HEATER.

I'm just lucky that the routing of the stolen piping allowed the water to excape outside of the building rather than inside the building, because the water meter says that about SIX THOUSAND GALLONS of water flowed out into the dirt before someone noticed the leak and turned off the valve.

I assume that by "someone", I mean that "someone" with the City of Brunswick turned the water off.

But...

Today, in attempting to communicate with the city by leaving a "voicemail" and finally talking to a human about 4:55 PM, I learned that they claim no knowledge of the leak and I'm now facing the daunting task of convincing them not to charge me for the water.

When I called the Brunswick Police's non-emergency number, I was invited to come down to the station to file a report else wait a few weeks sit around all day die of boredom waiting for an officer to actually show up at my property to make a report of the incident.

Six feet of 1/2" copper tubing is probably worth about $0.25 at the recycler, and I hope they can afford to buy fries with their final meal before the grim reaper comes and puts them out of their misery.