Your first house; most of us remember the day we saw it. They day we sat in the lawyer’s office closing. We remember the day we first arrived, and for the first time pulled into our own driveway. This was what we worked for. It was another one of life’s milestones that we that we had reached. We thought about how beautiful we would make it. We looked past every imperfection, seeing them only as opportunities to make it better. We were so, careful as we moved in. “Don’t scuff the walls” or “Oh that goes here” we got everything just perfect, but shortly after the magic, we met the true identity of our home.
He was a monster and he required much of us. We were now his slaves for as long as we would own this prison.. This house that seduced us, and lured us in, with the hope of freedom, to live in a home of our own, was actually preparing our limbs to wear the shackles of life’s most concentrated, and pure forms of bullshit; “Home Ownership”.
YOUR HOUSE IS YOUR MASTER
You don’t own the house. The house owns you. You may not understand this yet, if you are in a new home owner, but you will. Yes! That house owns your ass, and it will eventually feel the need to establish its’ dominance over you. It will treat you like a nineteen dollar used blow up doll bought at a garage sale. Oh yes, you will feel its sting.
Your house is in cahoots with the government, the banks, the contractors, the insurance companies, and the police.
Your House is your master, and your master is at all times required to feel good. There is no negotiating this. Your master hates you, and the more you try to love it the more it will reveal its’ hatred for you. You decide one day, you want to install a new toilet. That is typical behavior for a good and obedient slave. Your intentions are good but when you begin to remove the toilet you realize that there was a leak where the toilet once was. So being a good sport you pull up the flooring only to discover that the sub-floor is rotting. You look up to the ceiling and your master says
“HA HA HA that’s right slave. Make me new again. You will rue this day that ever tried to make your life more comfortable HA HA HA ”
You tried to serve you master, and he rewarded you by drilling you right in your fucking ass. The hardest thing to digest is the feeling that you walked in there and bent over for it.
Perhaps your master is bored one day and decides that it would like a brand new drainage system. Without warning
your houses just clinches and backs up your plumbing. Or maybe it just busts the pipes and takes a shit in your crawl space. It knows you know nothing of how to address this problem. So you drive to the local Home Depot, and hopefully talk with a kick-ass human being who knows his shit. Tom Nardone will explain to you exactly what you need, and what to do. Well your house is not worried because it knows that you will be working in the crawl space.
Your master uses the crawl space to indiscriminately allow all the fucking hooligans of nature to bed down, and have sex and multiply at will. Your crawl space is in fact your homes anus, and it welcomes your attention there like the lonely sadist deviate that it is. You may in fact get this problem fixed but you will not relax for a moment. The fear of snakes, and spiders alone drain you of any enthusiasm you might have bullshitted yourself into having. You will take the smell with you into your home. It is lose lose.
Or maybe one day when you get home from working third shift, and go home to bed, you will wake up two hours later sweating your ass off. You get up to adjust the AC, only to discover that is 85º. Your master just said
“ah ah ah get your ass out of bed, and fix my cooling system.”
You will just do it. Your house is well aware you will not be able to put up with the heat. Your day is now spent on the phone, in the attic, or outside. Even if you know how to fix it, your house has a deal with the AC people and the government where you cannot by the Freon or the parts for this unit without a license. That’s right drilled in the ass again.
YOU WILL FINANCE YOUR DISAPPOINTMENTS
Well ok you have been busy. You have worked hard and now it is all done. Your house has caused you to make so many improvements, that you are now happy again. You might even remark to your spouse upon their completion and say “Gosh honey, look at our wonderful home that we have built”; followed by a warm hug, and a smile.
All of a sudden the doorbell rings. You walk to the door thinking “who could that be?” You open the door and it is the tax assessor. It seems while you were improving your home the real estate market was kicking ass. You were making your home and your yard look amazing and now the value of your home has gone up. Yes all the money you spent has actually resulted in you paying more money for your home in taxes. I wish I could tell you that it ends there but it doesn’t. You now need more insurance and of course those rates have gone up too. Your home sensed your happiness, and therefore had to intercede.
Weeks later the dishwasher leaks into the house and destroys your hardwood floors. This time it is three thousand dollars damage. Well shit! You don’t have that much, so you decide to use your homeowners insurance that you have been paying on for years.
They come out and inspect and two days later, they inform you that you did not elect for the water damage add-on that nobody mentioned. Sorry, but you are not covered so they are not giving you shit. However, just for making a claim that they didn’t even pay, they are well within their rights to raise your rates, They do this because now they know you consider your policy as a means to actually protect yourself. Your master is a student of the game.
If you own something then, you are responsible for it. I think we all know that the secret to happiness in life is less responsibility.
If you do own a home, hopefully your master has not rendered you helpless with no escape. If your master has crippled you to a point that you have no viable options, then there is but one path to freedom.
Currently I would love to not be tied to my house. If I were somehow certain that no one would ever find out about it, I would only then take the following actions.
I would gather up all the pictures, computers, TV ’s, and clothes, and take them to a friend’s house far away.
Then I would come back one quiet Sunday evening while the family was away on a vacation. I would climb up on the roof and cut a hole in it. As I was taking a leak into the hole I would shout down to my master, and say:
“Well…. who is laughing now you son of a bitch? I have called you master for the last time. Do you see what I am holding in my other hand? This is the last thing I will ever give you for the rest of your soon to be over reign of terror. This is a Molotov Cocktail, and I will be serving you shortly. After you are burnt to the ground;I will come home, act surprised, and maybe even try to shed a tear for the nice firemen and policemen who will have failed to save you. I will cash the check that those motherfuckers at Nationwide denied me, and after you are reduced to nothing but ashes. I am coming back and I am going to burn your fucking ashes. I will have two hundred thousand dollars in my pocket and I will own the land where you once stood. The only thing it will cost me, is your life. I am going to curse the smoke that rises from your burning corpes, and if I see anybody here trying to buy parts for salvage I will destroy them right in front of their eyes. I will make damn sure they burn and find you in Hell. YOU HAVE DRILLED YOUR LAST ASS! HA HA HA HA HHA HH AHAHA!!!”
Since I lack the sack to go through with this all I can hope for is that some asshole that really hates me will go to my house and provide this service.
I have discussed this with several people in a less theatrical setting and I was surprised at the number of people who would enjoy watching their house burn.
I am Tom Nardone, and you are welcome.
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IT WILL FEEL GREAT!!!
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