Let’s start here. Welcome To Florida 
Sign(s) of the times.
Wow!
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GRAPHIC WARNING
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WTF!
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The WTF thought is you are the only one posting on this thread. WTF?
Oops, guess I made a post. Otherwise, nobody really gives a shit. 
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Yesterday, I had a 4-point and wind mitigation inspection lined up for a new home purchase. The buyer, someone I know personally, shrugged it off with a casual, “Just do the insurance inspections, man. It’s a fixer-upper.” Fair enough, I thought. I’ve seen my share of rough houses. How bad could it be?
I roll up to the property, and there’s a guy in a wheelchair parked in a garage so cluttered it looked like a junkyard had a midlife crisis. The dude was deaf as a doorknob, so I’m standing there, shouting, “I NEED TO INSPECT THE HOME!” for a solid five minutes. He finally snaps back, “I ain’t seen a single penny from this sale—why the hell should I let you in my house?” I’m dumbfounded. I call the real estate agent, and somehow, she sweet-talks him off the ledge. No clue how he even understood her, but whatever—door’s open, I’m in.
My plan? Grab the under-sink pics, hit the garage, check the attic, and get the hell out of Dodge. Quick and dirty. Now, a little context: I grew up on a farm. I’ve waded knee-deep through rancid cow manure, butchered livestock, and once hand-dug an old septic field that smelled like the devil’s armpit. Foul stenches don’t faze me. Or so I thought.
I step into the kitchen, and it’s like walking into a wall of stale urine. The kind of acrid, eye-watering piss cloud that makes you question your life choices. Okay, fine, they’re moving out for a reason. I just need a few snaps and I’m gone. I brace myself and swing open the guest bathroom door. Big mistake. It’s like Satan himself unleashed a thousand festering outhouses, the stench so thick it practically slaps me across the face. The toilet? Oh, it’s functional, I guess, but it’s clear these folks haven’t flushed since the Bush administration. Three—no, four—distinct piles of human excrement sit there like grotesque modern art. I’m not about to tempt fate by touching the flush valve. I hold my breath, snap a cabinet pic, and bolt.
The living room, mercifully, only reeks of pee—like that’s some kind of upgrade. Then I make the fatal error of entering the master bathroom. The door creaks open, and it’s like the gates of hell swing wide. The odor hits me like a freight train of raw sewage and despair, as if Beelzebub himself squatted over the bowl and let rip a demonic blast of flatus straight into my soul. More piles of poo, untouched, unflushable, mocking me from the porcelain throne. I gag, snap my pics, and flee, praying I never have to set foot in this cursed house again.
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WTF. Welcome (back) To Florida.
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Yeah, thank the heavens above.
Left the hotel at 6am, got to the SLC airport just before 11. Flight at 1:51.
SLC to DFW, Delay, delay, will miss connection, rebooked for 7pm flight.
SLC to DFW for the 7pm flight, Delay, delay, will miss connection, rebooked for 11:58 flight but this one is to Charlotte.
10 pm rolls around, delay 20 minutes, a bit later, another 15 minute delay.
Finally get on the airplane and off the ground around 12:30. Going to miss connection, landing at 6:57, takeoff at 7:07.
Fortunately, the pilot burned some extra gas and got us in 45 minutes early.
Ran from D to C at CLT, walked on the flight, door closed not long after. Landed and drove home. I’ve made it from my house in Jersey to JFK to my hotel in mainland China in less time than that.
Roughly a 30 hour slog door to door. Flying sucks anymore. It never was this bad.
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Florida…..say no more
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WTF…
It’s been a thing around here for a long time. I hope it’s done with.
Half my neighbors have those crosses. Who gives a @#%^. If you don’t like it. don’t look at it!
We don’t have a HOAs, we have deed covenants and they vary by district. There are 40+ districts and more all the time. In the oldest districts(like where i live), there’s pretty much no rules on what you can have in your yards as long as it’s not a truck on blocks or something. Somewhere in the early 2000s, they wrote some very restrictive rules, which allowed essentially nothing. No ornaments of any kind. It led to little old ladies on golf carts with a clipboard riding around reporting violations.
It also led to anti-religious trolls(anti-Christian) who would let a rainbow flag fly, but reported a little white cross.
The most recent districts are quite reasonable. Essentially it can’t look like a junkyard but tasteful ornaments are fine.
My next door neighbor:
I’m constantly amazed at society’s ability to impose restrictions on their own liberty and freedom of expression. Not only do they do this willingly, they do it with great enthusiasm and vigorous enforcement. All under the guise of " the greater good.”
When you don’t have a “thing” that you’re good at and are comfortable with, you use authority.
I’ve been an exceptional principal application developer for over 2 decades for a multi-national. I am totally comfortable discussing stuff that revolves around that and anything related. I am a subject matter expert on those issues. I’m also easy to convince I’m wrong too, but I know enough to know where my gaps are and if you’ve got the receipts, we both learn and move on. I’m also working towards casual competence as a HI. I’m better than I was, I know I’ve got more things to learn. There’s a reason I’m mentioning this.
A lot of people float through life being an expert in nothing. They don’t have a thing to which everyone can turn to them as the authority on X, whatever X may be. These are the types of people who drive around in a golf cart and report crosses in people’s yards. They are the flotsam and jetsam of the world clinging to the biggest piece of debris, standing on it, lording over who can climb on. A little power corrupts.
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