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Old 09-02-2008, 04:56 PM   #1
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Join Date: Aug 2008
Location: Madison, Wisconsin
Posts: 244
Life mimics art.

I don't know how many of you are familiar with a comicbook/movie called "Tank Girl," but I have lived her plight for many years. Today was chapter 27 of an ongoing novella, and I'm getting tired of it.

In "Tank Girl," her nemesis is the evil director of water and power.

As you know, I live in a little suburb of Madison, Wisconsin, and we also have a small department of town services, who at one time posted a bounty for the capture of my home water useage monitor.

The latest tale of woe is with the "garbage police." We have just switched over to an automated system of pick-up that requires two containers--one for garbage, the other for recycleables--which are designed to be grabbed by the truck's cherry-picker arm.

If your plastic bins are not positioned "just so," you get a yellow warning sticker stuck to the lid of you can. The clown who does our labeling has a heavy hand, and actually bends in the lid when affixing the sticker.

I received yet another sticker today, this one for placing the bins too close to each other, despite the fact they were twenty feet apart. I called the garbage police, and asked for Commisioner Trash. They asked for my name, and I answered "Batman." You don't get put on hold much that way.

I got some county pencil pusher who received her job through patronage. She informed me that it was very difficult for the driver to get in and out of the new trucks, and that only the most grievous cases received stickers. She reiterated their policy of "four feet of clearance" and I asked if twenty feet was adequate. I also added it was the same harlequin who caves in my lid.

After another three minutes of practiced drivel, I interrupted her. I informed her that I am a very humorless man when jerked around. Despite knowing the three people she calls 'boss' personally, and by their first names, I was now retired. This change in my working status gives me ample time to screw around with do-nothing city servants and greedy attorneys who need to make regular monthly boat payments.

Finally, I am so frustrated with her crappy yellow stickers and my proud ownership of a Ford F-150, that I was completely comfortable with the idea of packing up my unclaimed garbage and depositing it at her desk--for the length of the rather short tenure that the desk would in fact still be "hers." After that period, my truck would be delivering the trash to her home.

She asked if I minded being put on hold. Obviously, the real decision maker had just stepped into the room.

In about 30 seconds I was informed that the trash and recycleables would be picked up tomorrow morning. Without me giving my name, the civil servant also asked if their water meter was available to be picked up. I told her she was lucky enough to get the trash, and she shouldn't push her luck.

Kitty-corner from my home is a city police officer. He informs me that they go absolutely insane when I call. I once asked him a few months ago if they ever called his department to file a complaint or request that I be locked up (again).

He smiled and whispered, "All of the time, Chico, all of the time."

I reacted in surprise. No cop has ever come to my home with a warning to stop hassling the white-collar idiots at town hall.

"This in on the Q-T," he smirked, "Lots of cops get those yellow stickers, too..."


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Old 09-02-2008, 05:22 PM   #2
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Join Date: Apr 2008
Location: Collier County, Fl.
Posts: 4,198

LOL! Chico, you should be writing in the 'Writing Challenge'
thread. Good story.
When they go insane, do you mean laughing? Next time time stamp some pics, draw permanent outline of correct placement on the driveway and label the outline for which can goes where - for the person who'll have to do it while your sitting behind bars. Good luck!

P.S. I could use a new job!


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Old 09-02-2008, 06:41 PM   #3
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Join Date: Aug 2008
Location: Madison, Wisconsin
Posts: 244
Sitting behind bars is not as much fun as one might think.

After being booked, you get some short procedure where bail is established. Money charged to my credit card results in interest and penalties, so I defer it and just wait in jail for the arraignment. Last time my attorney's actual bail argument was nodding to the court clerk, and saying (and I quote), "Chico, yada yada." and then turning his palm up as he shrugged his shoulders.

The clerk, pursed his lips, nodded, and responded, "Agreed." Without a statement deriving the amount, I reached into my wallet and paid the 209 dollars. Now that I'm retired, my time is my own, and I'll switch to being a Democrat before I pay 18% on 209 dollars and court costs. I'll sit it out.

Big deal. You sit in the jail's commons area and play "Hearts" with a couple of townies who have the same number of teeth as toes--eleven. That's all they let you play, no games of chance that include betting.

You get a cold breakfast of one (1) bad hot dog, milk, a slice of white bread and a small fruit cup. This is mandated by law.

Monday morning at 9:00AM court opens, usually ten minutes late. Since my name begins with "B" I'm usually one of the first three called. My response to charges has been the same since 1971:

"Your Honor, I stand mute. I'm a law abiding citizen who didn't do the aforementioned charges, and I promise not to do it again."

The judge usually frowns, but takes note of my T-shirt. Former Governor Tommy Thompson was a big Harley fan, and often led groups of legislators on bikes to tour parts of the State. He had a lot of power in recommending judges, and Harley is still a big employer in the State.

The judge usually mumbles something like, "What kind of bike?"

I shrug for effect and then state proudly, "Custom 2004 Dyna Glide."

The judge acts like he's mulling over the information, "Well, Mr. Buller--er, it is still 'Buller' isn't it? I notice some name changes, four aliases and an Anglisized change by your Father..."

"...ah, yes, Your Honor, I am still using 'Buller' this year..."

"Ah, good, I see no reason not to offer a fifty dollar fine and time served," he ordains, as he rattles the papers into a well-placed folder.

I nod, and reach for my wallet, as rehearsed.

"And let me offer a bit of advice to you in your future enjoyment of the Packers games," he proffers.

"Yes, Your Honor...?"

"The next time your wife's brother is in town from Peoria, drunk and sloppy or not, do not chase him around the subdivision with a flare gun screaming, 'you no-brother-good-inlaw from Illi-noise, hit the flatland,' you myopic Obama shill'..."

I smile, he smiles and finishes, "Just call the police..."

"Yes, Your Honor. Give my best to Elaine."
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Old 09-02-2008, 10:48 PM   #4
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Originally Posted by Chico Buller View Post
I called the garbage police, and asked for Commisioner Trash. They asked for my name, and I answered "Batman." You don't get put on hold much that way.
Chico Buller I like your style!!!!
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Old 09-02-2008, 10:50 PM   #5
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me too,lol
"life isn't about how to survive the storm but how to dance in the rain"
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Old 09-02-2008, 11:15 PM   #6
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Join Date: Aug 2008
Location: Madison, Wisconsin
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When I got "detained" for failure to return the water meter in my basement, I refused to post bond. I grabbed a magazine and sat down on a bench in the jail's common area. Dr. Phil was on (gag), but the rag was a new copy of "Muscle Mustangs and Fast Fords."

In trying to help me, a jailer called my wife at work and informed her that I was custody.

She coldly asked, "Is there a body count?"

The jailer, now shocked, stated, "No, it's more of a formality for not returning Gas & Light's metering device..."

"No injuries?" my wife snapped, "then don't bother me, I'm in a meeting!"
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Old 09-02-2008, 11:31 PM   #7
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Way to go I have no love for bureaucrats of any ilk.

Cook with passion or don't cook at all
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