Free Parking

Lordy! Lordy! Lordy! Guv'ment workers are getting reduced parking! Hide the women and children!

More than 500 City of Pittsburgh and Allegheny County employees get a perk other Downtown commuters can only dream about.

Almost 200 City of Pittsburgh workers pay $70 a month -- and about 340 Allegheny County employees pay $60 a month -- to park in some surface lots and garages Downtown, government records show. That translates to about $3.50 a day for city workers and $3 for county employees.

Be still my beating heart!

"I have to pay more than ($60) just to park my car at home," said Ashley Walters, 26, of Shadyside. "It's kind of insulting."

How about you take a bus, you young, hip urbanite?

City officials defended the preferential parking passes.

Finance Director Scott Kunka said lower parking costs offset employees' "low" salaries.

Of course, the Trib then goes on to blur the difference between "average" and "median" salaries:

The average city worker makes $44,000 a year, according to city records. The estimated median household income in Pittsburgh was about $31,800 in 2006, according to U.S. Census figures.

Of course, there is a voice of reason in the article:

Susan Hansen, a politics professor at the University of Pittsburgh, said reduced or even free parking isn't out of the ordinary for government workers.

"The salaries aren't that good, contrary to popular belief, and the people can make piles of more money in the private sector," Hansen said. "If you want to get good employees, you need to offer them something."

But that doesn't stop members of the all wise general public from casting aspersions:

"They're public servants. They shouldn't get that kind of perk," said Sean Reid, 64, of the South Side, who pays $225 a month, or about $11.25 a day, to park near his job Downtown. "My taxes shouldn't be going toward subsidizing their parking."...

"I pay nearly $300 a month to park a few blocks from where I work (Downtown)," said King, who declined to identify where he works. "Maybe they should pay less. But they should probably be paying about the same as everyone else."

But you know what, if they really want cheap parking, I'm sure there are dozens upon dozens of people in City & County Government that will be willing to trade places with Messrs. Reid and King.

Some of them even have blogs where you can here them rant about how wonderful local government is.

Or, alternatively, you can STOP DRIVING YOUR FUCKING CAR YOU FILTHY PIECE OF DISTENDED HUMAN RECTUM!

Rant #45985

Attention worthless piece of human sputum:

Please explain, exactly, how it is my fault that you have lost the ability to use abstract reasoning, derive logical conclusions from available data, and contemplate your own existence. Should I also be restraining you from licking your own genitals and throwing your own feces across the department?

While I understand that scientists continue to debate the role of nature versus nuture in human development, in either case you would have to have been raised by a pack of retarded donkeys that beat you regularly to descend to this level of stupidity.

Common household items have more drive, initiative, and intelligence that you. My cable box is more responsive, and, at this rate has provided better service. I have several lamps that are brighter than you and several knives that are sharper. I even have a spoon that's sharper.

By the way, I would stay away from sharp metal objects and wall sockets if I were you. That combination can only result in tears and flames.

In future, I will, instead ask the wall, my chair, or the funk underneath my garbage can for assistance rather than you. At least the funk under the garbage has some potential to evolve into something intelligent.

I can only hope that you refrain from breeding. I know a few doctors that will be glad to help you out. I can only hope that if you did have any children you followed the example of hampsters and ate them all. It is the only way that the species can advance.
Tag(s): Rant

Rant #7592: Stop the Heat

Yes. It is hot enough for me, you worthless piece of shit. Now fuck off.

I'm sick to death of this heat. I'm tired of the haze. I'm fed up with the humidity. It's all making me cranky, irratible, and, above all, sweaty.

I no longer wish to do my human sprinkler routine every time I step outside. I have now officially run out of clothes to wear that are not soaked with my own sweat and body odor. I do not want to offend the public, members of government or the press with my stank... well, maybe the press.

I do not wish to be mistaken again for Richard Nixon debating in a sauna.

I'm sick of the rain, every day, at 5:30 PM. I'm tired of walking home from my bus stop through what feels like a tropical rain forest. No, scratch that... I'm tired of swimming home from my bus stop. I have been attacked by maccaus, pirahnas, and some sort of hallucinogenic toad, NONE of which are indigenous to this part of Pennsylvania. Yet, somehow this heat, rain, and humidity have all gotten them to think that this is some portion of the Amazonian basin.

This heat must be stopped, whether by act of God or act of derranged evil genius. A good missle at the heart of the sun would work nicely. [Phooey on all of you that protest about the "extinction of mankind," I'm fucking sweaty.]

I recognize, of course, that now that the soltice has passed, I can no longer expect to see temperatures in the lower fifties, and I can accept that.

Until October, however, I'm staying in my bedroom naked with the windows closed and the A/C running at full blast.

I will be using up all of my sick days on this, and I think it's worth it.

Five Minute Insta-Rant

Five Minute Insta-Rant..... Go!

Would all the stupid people in the City of Pittsburgh please stop calling me! I mean serriously, I know my name is available out there, and I know that I'm on the web page somewhere, and I know that there are several people who think that I do everything at THE BUREAUCRACY, but people PLEASE stop calling me. No, I don't do everything and I don't have time to sort through your piddly assed problems. If you had just taken the time think logically for 5 minutes to actually figure out who deals with these problems, instead of calling me up, I'd be much happier. Please, PLEASE take about 5 more minutes, look in the friggin' yellow pages (they still have those,right?) and figure out, for yourself who is supposed to take care of your problem.

It doesn't help you or me if you complain to me for 15 minutes about how so-and-so is doing such-and-such to something or other if I can't help you, but can merely pass you off to the real person in charge. You've wasted a quarter hour of both our lives.

If you are calling me, without a clue as to what I really do, you are so far off.

Please don't call me. I'm overworked. And I can't help you. Call my boss.

Five Minute Insta-Rant... END!

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And yes, I'm both angry and drunk tonight.

Friday Afternoon Rant

Article in the Trib pissed me off, surprisingly enough, not because of the story or the reporting, as is the norm, but rather what was said by the interviewees about downtown Pittsburgh.

"They have to make it easier for people to come and park," said Reggie Cox, manager of Sneaker Villa on Wood Street. "They're real good at towing cars around here, but maybe they ought to make the meters last longer than seven minutes for a quarter."...

"Downtown is dirty," he [Calvin Moore, manager of EZ Records] said. "If they just planted some trees and flowers, it would make a big difference and maybe get people more interested to take their time and shop a little."...

"I think waiting for the big, sweeping change there may have slowed things down," he [Rich LoPresti manager of Lubin and Smalley] said. "If, five years ago, they had tried to develop it block by block, well at least they would have been doing something. They want big picture kinds of things to happen, but something happening is better than nothing happening."

Do you see a common pattern in their answers? Please, Calvin, Reggie, Rich, tell me, who are "They*"?

Which They is supposed to come in and fix what's wrong downtown? Where do They live? Do They have family? Where is this mystical organization out there with access to billions of dollars who can wave Their checkbook and solve all of our problems. Does They wear brown robes and recite ancient incantations to the Dark Lords of Economic Development while sacrificing virgins? Is They omnipresent, ever lurking the shadows, leaping out to right wrongs and dispense justice? Who ARE They and how do I get THEM to pay off my credit card bills?

But it's not just downtown. In my travels and travails through the region, more often then not I hear "They should do this" or "The Government should do that" or "The City should do the other thing." It spans all types of issues and isn't just limited to certain projects, ideas, or areas. I've heard it in Crafton, I've heard it in East Liberty, I've heard it in Braddock. I've heard it about Bike Trails, about Riverfront development, about art, about race relations, etc. It worries and upsets me that some people believe that there is an all powerful "They" out there with the magical powers to cure problems. It depresses me further that us Western Pennsylvanians seem to have a mentality that someone else (usually the government) is supposed to fix our problems for us.

An anecdote (probably apocryphal) told to me by a coworker, tells of a time she was talking with some executive at Freemarkets who complained that They were not providing enough night life downtown. Her response was, "Listen asshole: get your beer drinking, dot-com buddies together and build your own damned night life! You have time and money! Fix it yourself! Don't expect Them to provide it for you.

They are good at policing the streets, putting out fires, dispensing justice, picking up trash, building your roads, destroying your roads, maintaining your roads, building sewers, remediating brownfields, accessing funds, providing funds, holding property, planting trees, and providing other services not easily done by the private market. They are not here to do things for You. They are not Your panacea to fix every thing that is wrong; They're from the government, and They're here to HELP.

Stop laughing. I mean it.

The Government is not here to drive these deals; the government, as Fester & I have alluded to, is here to assist in these deals. In areas that are traditionally the perview of the private market, Government cannot make bad deals work; government can only make marginal deals work.

If you are complaining about why THEY aren't doing anything, why don't YOU ask why YOU'RE not doing anything? Have we lost the ability to do anything by ourselves without relying on Them to do it for us? Self determination? Community activism? Getting up off your lazy, whiney asses? No? Nothing? Not a bit? Hello? Is this thing on?

Alright, I'm done. I have to go fix someone's problems now.

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* I mean, other than The Horde of Ecumenical Yodelers (T.H.E.Y.) Narf!

Five Minute Rant

To all my Customers:

We seem to have a few misunderstandings regarding my services, which I hope to rectify here. I hope you will take my directives to heart.

Don't call me before business hours start; I'm not here. I'm probably asleep or eating breakfast or commuting to the office. You know very well when we start work; calling 15 minutes early with your pissant complaint isn't going to make me work on it any harder.

Don't call me exactly when business hours start. Unless the rivers are turning to blood, darkness is covering the land, and your first born has died, your attempt to get my attention first thing is not going to work. No one has yet to call me with a emergency that warrants my attention before my first cup of coffee.

Don't call me during lunch. If you're calling me during lunch, you're hoping that I'm at lunch too and you didn't want to talk with me anyway. To foil your nefarious scheme, I take random lunch hours so you may, in fact, find me answering the phone. Be forewarned.

Don't call me five minutes after the close of business. Again, you obviously didn't want to talk to me. Please be courteous and call during lunch instead.

Don't call me two hours after the close of business. Despite what you may think, I have a life outside of THE BUREAUCRACY. I am not on call for your pissant complaints about how your project isn't being sent to the Federal Government for funding that it will ultimately be turned down for. You suck; calling after hours to complain that I'm not enabling your sucking is not going to help your cause.

Don't call me four hours after the close of business; THIS IS ESPECIALLY TRUE FOR UTILITY COMPANIES. I'm tired of recorded messages left at 9 PM telling me to call back between the hours of 9 AM and 4:30 PM Monday - Friday about a matter of urgency. HEY JERKWAD! WHY DIDN'T YOU CALL ME BETWEEN 9 AM AND 4:30 PM TO BEGIN WITH??? Bastards.

And finally, FOR THE LOVE OF THE BIG GEORGE FOREMAN STOP CALLING ME ON WEEKENDS!! I will not be pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, debriefed or numbered. My life is my own. I AM A FREE MAN ON WEEKENDS!

There! I've said it. I feel better.

I hope this puts to rest any confusion you may have had.

Sincerely,

"O"
The Angry, Drunk Bureaucrat

Friday Morning Rant

THE BUREAUCRACY deals with a lot of community groups, everything from fully functional Community Development Corporations (CDCs) through Faith-Based Organizations (FBOs) to Homeowners Associations (HAs). There's a continuum of Community Groups from the highly organized, established, and effective to the disorganized, unestablished, and ineffective. Some of the best are responsive, not only to their boards of directors, but also to market conditions and the community at-large. Some of the worst are totalitarian cliques, sensitive only to their ability to make money, gain power, or attain glory.

All of these groups purport to represent "their community"... even if there are five different splinter groups in "their community."

THE BUREAUCRACY gets hammered all the time for what it does, and the media, politicians, and pundits continually call for the end of our fascist bullying. If you ever want to see what real micro-totalitarianism looks like, however, check out your local community group.

Don't get me wrong, there are several very effective Community Organizations out there that are genuinely interested in the well-being of their towns, neighborhoods, or blocks. These groups are effective at leveraging their skills and their resources in order to drive development or to maintain their existing community.

There are more groups, however, that are interested in demagoguery over democracy, self-importance over self-improvement, and control over cooperation. These groups are dangerous; even more so if they have the ear of a unwitting political lackey.

At least THE BUREAUCRACY is ultimately subject to the political will; no one votes for a self-forming community group.

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This post brought to you by: Local Newspaper Article that Trashed "O" Personally.

100% Above Average Children

I hate Children.

I also hate Parents.

I see Parents in the street with obnoxious, overactive children. "I don't believe in hitting my children," they say.

"I believe in hitting your children; stand aside," I say.

Psychology Today has an interesting article on Parents that can't and won't let their children fail, and the demon hell-spawn children this creates.

Cut the cord people. Let the little brats know who's boss; let them know pain and failure. Let 'em fall from 12ft high slides onto concrete onto their head. Let 'em struggle and live independently. Otherwise, they'll coast through life relying on Mommy and Daddy to bail them out, drifting from failure to failure, with few, if any, mediocre "achievements"...

Or become President.

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This post... yadda-yadda-yadda.

Feeling Sick V

Just when I thought I was feeling better, I found My Super Sweet Sixteen from MTV and threw up for an hour and a half.

Series guide: Rich teenage girls spend more than your yearly salary on a damn party.

From Episode #103:

The perfect party begins with the perfect venue. For Ava, this is the Four Seasons Hotel. Her mother doesn't agree with all of Ava's lavish plans. Ava's dad proves easier to persuade. He can't say no to his daughter.

Next, Ava must choose four members of the Loyola polo team to carry her during her grand entrance. She has three requirements--the boys must be cute, sexy and have good bodies. The candidates take off their shirts and practice lifting Ava before she chooses.

A party isn't complete without presents. Ava's father takes her to test drive different cars. Although "red is the closest color to pink" in the lot, Ava chooses a black Range Rover. Her dad is hesitant about her decision. He feels the car is too big for her to handle. "I will never settle for anything less than a Range Rover," Ava says.

I can actually FEEL the downward plunge of Western Civilization.

This post brought to you by: SO ANGRY! SO VERY ANGRY!! Now excuse me while I vomit again.

Increase the Size of Your Insurance by 9"

One of the things I wish this blog to be is a sounding board for those parts of the bureaucratic life that really bug me.

One of the other things I wish this blog to be is a vehicle for communication between myself and Mr. Timi Ooloo, who is apparently a Nigerian Businessman who needs help with rescuing $2.4 million from a closed state-run bank account. He's also promised to increase the size of my wang by 9".

But let's stay on topic #1 for now; we can talk about my Nigerian Wang issues later.

THE BUREAUCRACY needs insurance under Federal/State/Local law and because the lawyers, who bill hourly, need more work to do. So, my job is to go find insurance for THE BUREAUCRACY. No problem; we've used the same insurance broker for the last 6 years.

I call 'em up, get the form, send it back, and wait for some confirmation that they've received my form and I owe them the balance of the premium.

Only nothing comes.

Days go by... weeks... months...

I, of course, am distracted by other issues and don't notice until I get a NOTICE OF CANCELLATION from the provider. Turns out we've never paid them for the insurance. Immediately I call the broker... she's not in... try back tomorrow.

Eventually (like after 3 days) I get hold of her; turns out that she never put our request in the Accounts Payable system and therefore we never got invoiced, she never noticed and never called to warn us. Basically, we need to get the check to her, now. So, I do a 100 mph dash to the finance department, cut a check, and rush it off to her.

And I wait.

Days go by... weeks... months...

I call the broker... she's not in... try back tomorrow, next week, next month...

I send a nasty-gram: "GIVE US OUR PROOF OF INSURANCE OR WE RIP YOUR BALLS OFF!!"

OK, it didn't say that; it said "GIVE US OUR PROOF OF INSURANCE OR WE STOP PAYMENT ON YOUR CHECK!!" Only not in all caps. Or in bold. Or in red. And I think I used the phrase "kindly remit," but you could tell that I really meant to say "kindly remit, asshole."

But then, surprisingly, they cashed our check.

"Success," we think, "if they've cashed our check, they're now obligated to give us our proof of insurance."

Sadly, no. We received a refund check from the insurance provider, but nothing to say "we cancelled your policy" or "we apologize" or "please don't beat us". Nothing. Nothing except this weird feeling that we've been left on the side of the road with just a suitcase, one day's worth of water, a dozen ferrets in our pants, and a very angry and jealous mime pursuing us with a sniper rifle.

So our insurance broker of 6 years has "wanged" us over, with not so much as an apology. We will never use them again.

The moral(s) of the story: (1) Don't screw a reliable client. (2) You have a better chance growing your wang 9" through the Nigerian Businessman Scam than getting what you want from an insurance company.

Guidelines for Government Inaction

Minor annoyances first thing Monday Morning:

(1) If you're going to call me to discuss a matter of utmost urgency, don't call my office on Saturday. I understand that if you work 40 hours a week, you may not have time to talk during the weekday. Given the current state of Labor relations in this country and the general pull of the Labor unions at the beginning of the last century, I am also working a 40 hr. work week. [Suprise! Suprise!] I have a life outside work, you know. People that call before 8 AM, after 5PM, during lunch, or on Weekends, don't really want to talk to a human being, for, if they truly wanted to talk to someone, they might want to try and call during, let's say, business hours.

(1.b.) If you're going to call me to discuss a matter of utmost urgency on Saturday at 10AM, don't call back at 10:30 AM. Not at 11 either, or 12, or 1. Take the hint people: I am not here

(2) If you're going to call me to discuss a matter of utmost urgency, it would be helpful to me if you would explain what this "urgency" is, rather than leaving a rambling message about "how we need to talk" or to "give us a call back." If you want a productive dialogue, try giving me some information so that I can be prepared to, I don't know, help solve your problem.

So, because of (1), (1.b), and (2) listed above, I have no real desire to return this call.

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This post brought to you by: Cup of Coffee #3

The Cause of (and Solution to) this Blog

So originally when this blog was pitched to me on Monday, the idea was that I was supposed to be drunk every time I wrote in it. I thought this was funny, but there are several problems with this concept:

(1) As I drink more, I become much more incoherent and lose my ability to type. And while this holds tremendous comedic potential, it also means that I may slip and reveal some dark sordid secret like my fantasy involving Lindsay Lohan, a bottle of butterscotch syrup, and...

WHOA! Almost had me there. I can't give away too much, not now.

Moving on.

(2) I may post at work if the fancy strikes me.... and they will fire my ass if I'm drunk... even for a noble cause such as this.

(3) I may post in the morning. Drinking before noon is sad.

(4) If I'm prolific, people are going to think I'm drunk all the time. And then someone is going to call an intervention. And then I'll spend weeks in rehab. And then I won't be able to post. QED

So Drunk AND Angry... either one or both. If you have a problem with drinking, assume that I just have a chip on my shoulder... If you have a problem with anger, assume that I'm ripped.

If you have a problem with both... well, you probably didn't make it this far in the post.

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The post was brought to you by: VODKA MARTINI.

First Angry, Drunk, Bureaucratic Rant

The worst part of the job is waking up in the morning, opening up the paper, and finding out that you are a complete and total a**hole. The obvious solution to this problem is to cancel your subscription.

Us bureaucrats are angry because we get no respect, we're treated like s**t, and we're identified with everything that's wrong with government. We're the scapegoat, because we're easy. So we're angry. And we drink. A lot.

So I hope to accomplish nothing by this blog except to be generally angry, exceptionally drunk, angrier, drunk again, and perhaps to encapsulate horrible mispellings.

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This rant brought to you by: VODKA MARTINI (2)