The other day I was appalled to have fallen victim to cruel heckling when I lit up an expense and mouthwatering Arturo Fuente Opus X BBMF stogie in a packed elevator. Apparently, others standing close to me cared not at all for my pursuit of happiness. A flavorsome cigar is one of my shameful pleasures. Imagine my dismay when later that same day I was pulled over by a traffic cop who issued me a ticket for driving 65 mph in a 25-mph zone. In my defense, I was in a mad rush to get to the donut shop before all the maple bars, my favorite yummies, were sold. Not only that, but he or she (I can’t distinguish genders among the constabulary anymore because they wear those unisex uniforms and are for the most part nutzoid annoyances and complainers) had the temerity to cite me for not wearing a seatbelt in addition to the speeding citation. To that point, I loathe feeling the constraint of being tethered to all that horsepower. And speaking of power, I do enjoy cranking my tunes up full blast because it makes me feel fully animated. Recently, though, I was bluntly told, in language I dare not repeat, to turn down my car stereo while I waxed my roadster in the parking lot near a pastoral lake. Why the uncivil complaints? Because my 18-inch woofer hit 165.6 dB and was irritating picnickers, a bunch of anal-retentive party poopers. Do I need to tell how much I love to share the power of my excellent stereo system? It will make your cheeks jiggle and get your spare change to bounce right out of the cupholder—wild vibes. Come on, folks, go with the flow. Anyway, I’m just trying to live my life the way I want to live it, right? These are my privileges; I mean, really, is there no end to the cheek of others butting into my life and telling me what to do and when and where and how to do it?
Now I hear that restaurants, schools, and businesses may require masks and proof of COVID vaccinations to allow us to pass through their doors. Look, masks stifle my airways, and I don’t want anyone jabbing me and putting scientific cocktails in my bloodstream. Wow, what gives complete strangers the right to coerce me into giving up my preferences? Dang, is there no end to this paternal coercion heaped upon us by folks who care little about individual rights? Seems that every way I turn someone is blocking me, lecturing me, and trying to restrict my liberties. Is it too much to ask: meddlers, will you leave me the hell alone so I can pursue my happiness?
Since I am on the subject, why must I adhere to the arbitrary rules aimed at drunk drivers? I know that is a prickly subject because of those MADD folks. Sure, I take a sip of wine on weekends. Who doesn’t, right? But I am reasonably certain that two or three glasses of plonk is no danger to me or anyone else if I take the car for a spin after enjoying my refreshments. I can hold my liquor and know my limits, so don’t try to infringe on my pleasure of wheeling around the neighborhood while feeling whimsically giddy.
Another encroachment on my happiness comes in the form of the neighborhood historical/improvement society, a congregation snoops and bleating sheep. They got all over my case simply because I cut down the trees that were blocking my view. I will admit that a few of those cedars were over a hundred years old and not exactly on my property, but what of that? People around here sure spend a lot of effort being petty. They even get worked up when I use my flame-thrower to torch trash. They go on and on about burn bans and toxic smoke. Moan, bitch, grumble—the chorus that comes from my buttinsky neighbors.
Okay? Listen, I am not picking up my dog’s shit. I am not turning down my kick-ass stereo. I am going to smoke stogies in public places. And I am not going to allow a red light to stop me. What I mean to say is this: I want to be happy, and my happiness trumps restricting laws. Remember those lessons about rights and responsibilities? My allegiance falls squarely on the side of my rights. The responsibility piece is for losers and deep thinkers, people who tell us to turn down the music, to keep a tidy desk, and to floss after every meal.
No mandates, please. Government and other capricious authorities are purely malevolent influences on my liberty. The only consent I need is my own. My enduring motto: live and let live. That mentioned, I find it difficult to get through the day without some nitpicker getting into my face. And the tone used to confront me. My, oh, my, goodness gracious.