Waking up in a Libertarian US

The Gadsden Flag

A dream sequence of waking up in a Libertarian USA

Joe Conservative wakes up in the morning and goes to the bathroom. He flushes his toilet and brushes his teeth, mindful that each flush & brush costs him about 43 cents to his privatized water provider. His wacky, liberal neighbor keeps badgering the company to disclose how clean and safe their water is, but no one ever finds out. Just to be safe, Joe Conservative boils his drinking water.

Joe steps outside and coughs–the pollution is especially bad today, but the smokiest cars are the cheapest ones, so everyone buys ‘em. Joe Conservative checks to make sure he has enough toll money for the 3 different private roads he must drive to work. There is no public transportation, so traffic is backed up and his 10 mile commute takes an hour.

On the way, he drops his 12 year old daughter off at the clothing factory she works at. Paying for kids to go to private school until they’re 18 is a luxury, and Joe needs the extra income coming in. Times are hard and there’re no social safety nets.

He gets to work 5 minutes late and misses the call for Christian prayer, and is immediately docked by his employer. He is not feeling well today, but has no health insurance, since neither his employer nor his government provide it, and paying for it himself is really expensive, since he has a precondition. He just hopes for the best.

Joe’s workday is 12 hours long, because there is no regulation over working hours, and Joe will lose his job if he complains or unionizes. Today is an especially bad day. Joe’s manager demands that he work until midnight, a 16 hour day. Joe does, knowing that he’ll lose his job if he does not.

Finally, after midnight, Joe gets to pick up his daughter and go home. His daughter shows him the deep cut she got on the industrial sewing machine today. Joe is outraged and asks why she doesn’t have metal mesh gloves or other protection. She says the company will not provide it and she’ll have to pay for it out of her own pocket. Joe looks at the wound and decides they’ll use an over the counter disinfectant and bandages until it heals. She’ll have a scar, but getting stitches at the emergency room is expensive.

His daughter also complains that the manager made suggestive overtures towards her. Joe counsels her to be a “good girl” and not rock the boat, or she’ll get fired and they’ll be out the income.

His daughter says she can’t wait until she’s 18 so she can vote for change or go to the Iraq War.

They get home and there’s a message from his elderly father who can’t afford to pay his medical or heating bills. Joe can hear him coughing and shivering.

Joe turns on the radio and the top story is a proposal in Congress to raise the voting age to 25. A rare liberal opinionator states that it’s an attempt to keep power out of the hands of working class Americans. The conservative host immediately quashes him, calling him “a utopian idealist,” and agreeing that people aren’t mature enough to make good choices until they’re at least 25.

Joe chuckles at the wine-swilling, cheese eating liberal egghead and thinks, “Thank God I live in America where I have freedom!”

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Gun Culture

No, I am not going to rip on the prevalence of guns in the country, or about how to solve the problem of so many nutty people going out in a blaze of glory. Instead I am going to offer an observation, from my single data point, me.

I have long enjoyed shooting. Got my start at 8 years old or so, I was a typical boy, so the usual “cops and robbers” and “cowboys and indians” were typical play time activities.

To this day, I still enjoy going to the range and relieving stress by putting holes in paper. Consequently, I have a safe full of firearms. Some I bought. Many I “inherited” from direct or distant family members. Rifles, Shotguns, Pistols, I have it covered.

I don’t hide this fact, but I don’t advertise it either. In fact, I do not look or act like a “gun nut” (probably because I am not a gun nut.) However, when someone who is steeped in the gun culture finds out I am an enthusiast, the conversation gets predictable.

Case in point: Our movers.

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A new beginning

Welcome!

If it isn’t clear yet, I am starting fresh here. If you are a fan of my old site, I need to apologize. The old home of no holds barred product management is no more. From 2009 through 2014, it was a needed outlet to preserve my sanity.

Product Management has a soft white underbelly, and it felt good to rant and rave often on topics that really raised my ire. If you read the tripe that is dished up by the milquetoast social media mavens of product management and marketing you know why I needed to rant.

But times change, and one day you have to grow up. That and too many people who know me and work with me had found the blog, leading to some difficult conversations with the powers that be.

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