Socialism, Bureaucracy, and Farmers Branch, TX’s own Gabriel Rojas
Today was one of the most humiliating and infuriating days in my life. I’ll give you more on that in a minute.
The news of the day today, at least in the political-sphere, is a bit of what I’d consider to be biting political satire. All over Los Angeles, these posters depicting Barack Obama as the Joker from the Chris Nolan Batman movies are popping up (poster pictured to right).
The defensive line from the left has been saying that this is just a scare tactic to identify a two payer or single payer system with socialism (which is identified with communism, which is identified with extreme economic destitution and mass murder of it’s own citizens).
Inquisitr’s Kim LaCapria, a self-professed libertarian, analyzed the poster as such:
Meh. I appreciate good political commentary of any affiliation but this is just lazy. Protest fail. Are we supposed to be scared of socialism? Because last I checked, all my European friends and lovers have all their teeth left and don’t have to reset their own bones.
Personally, I don’t think socialized medicine needs much of a slamming. If you’re in the know and understand the interdependencies of the various nations on the US military, it’s clear why it works in European countries – all the money they save not spending on a military (since ours supports and defends their nation), they can spend on healthcare. If they had to pay for both, they’d be as bankrupt as the United States will be.
But first, let me tell you about my no good, horrible, very bad day.
Beyond that, though, what I’m more fearful of isn’t socialism – it’s bureaucracy and increased governmental oversight. Ronald Reagan once said that “The nine most terrifying words in the English language are: ‘I’m from the government and I'm here to help.’” Never were truer words spoken, as I found out today.
This afternoon, I had the local cops called on me – for child abandonment. Given that my son, as most days (since I work from home) hasn’t left my line of sight for more than five minutes at a time all day, you may wonder how that’s possible.
My apartment is situated as such so that I can see what's going on in the living room from my back porch. Whenever I have a business-related call to take during the day, I usually plug my laptop up in the kitchen, which adjoins the back porch so I can get drinks and food for my two year old son Jacob Li when necessary, and to and step out on the back porch when I need quiet conversation.
Apparently today was the day that the city code inspectors picked to inspect my apartment. I’ve lived in Texas off an on for almost my entire life, and never once have any of my domiciles been subject to a surprise city-mandated code inspection before, but there is, I suppose, a first time for everything.
During today’s surprise inspection, I was on the phone on my back porch speaking with my partner at SiliconANGLE, John Furrier when I hear men's voices yelling loudly, as if they’re trying to get someone’s attention. I had been on the back porch for no more than a two or three minutes, and Jacob was thoroughly engrossed in an episode of Spongebob Squarepants, waffle in one hand and juice cup in the other. The way the sound bounces around in the courtyard behind my house, I thought it was coming from outside or from a neighbor. I looked around over the fences and such, and didn’t see anything, so I come back inside.
As I open the back door, I see two men I don't recognize standing in my living room, my front door open, and my son Jacob running out to the street.
I come in and they're yelling at me "Where have you been?"
I live in what I consider to be a safe neighborhood, but I also generally keep the door dead-bolted. Naturally, I’m a little alarmed that anyone would be in my house, let alone two disheveled looking workman types. Their very presence in my home (let alone their confrontation attitude and the fact that they’d just let my son run out towards the street) activated my daddy-instincts, and I began to size up the situation in my mind how I’d save my son and take out these two intruders.
I holler back as my 6’5” frame lumbers menacingly closes the distance across the household to their position: "Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?"
As it turned out, one of them was the local property maintenance fellow, and the other happened to be my ‘friendly’ neighborhood code inspector. The maintenance guy had supplied the city employee with my apartment key, and since I had failed to chain the door, they had gained entry into my home.
His answer to my inquiry was unimpressive.
“We've been in your house for a half hour trying to figure out why this kid has no parents around,” said the city man I later learned was named Gabriel Rojas.*
“That's bullshit, sir, I've been in the kitchen the whole time,” I replied.
“Watch your language with me," he said
During this interchange I'm carefully but steadily backing him out of the house - he's stepping backwards out and I'm advancing on him.
“What the fuck did you just say to me?" I ask, incredulously. At this point he’s backed himself all the way out of the house, and Jacob has long since run back in the house.
“I said watch your language with me,” said Gabriel. “I have a right to be here, announced or unannounced, and gain entry to your home for inspection under Texas state renter laws. Check your leasing agreement.”
I was flabbergasted at the audacity of this man, who not only came into my house unannounced and started a verbal altercation with me, but told me that I essentially had signed my rights away by renting an apartment in the state of Texas. About half a dozen legal statutes raced through my mind that I could quote to refute him, but given that I was clearly dealing with a moron with a Napoleon complex, I didn’t imagine quoting them would do me much good.
He must have taken my brief pause as some sort of acquiescence, or perhaps the look of , because he pressed home his point:
