The renegade elected

Order! Order!

Yeah, look, I’m afraid all y’all overdramatic whisperin’ types are going to have to sit down and be absolutely quiet in the back there. I know it’s going to kill you not to talk for two whole goddam minutes about who planted a tree not on the approved species list and whose window treatments are ivory instead of white, but please, do what you can to settle yourselves. I’m your new homeowners’ association president, and I’ve got some trés important shit to lay on all you grasshoppers.

Folks, here’s the deal. I said what it would take to get elected, and now that I have accomplished that, I’m going to do what I really wanted to do instead. If that’s good enough for Washington DC, then it’s good enough for Autumn Meadows here. So listen up. Some of you may want to grab the edge of the table.

See, you weren’t quite careful enough when you agonized over this impressive, but nonetheless loophole-ridden, set of covenants and by-laws. And guess what? You’ve inadvertently given the president the power to dissolve the whole thing and start over. So consider it dissolved, boys and girls.

I know this comes as an unpleasant shock to all you angst-ridden types who crave power and have been unable to obtain it in any other arena in your life, and have consequently sunk your heart and soul into this tyrannical body, and for that I apologize. I recommend a couple of aspirin and a shot of Crown Royal, and remember, the shadows part at dawn.

Here’s what’s going to happen for the next year, and God willing, from now on: you’re going to live your life, and your neighbors are going to live theirs, and everyone is going to leave everyone else the hell alone. It is my sincere hope that in the months to come, you will thank me for the gift of self-reliance.

I want to set a good example. So I’m having a non-running, rusty, 65-year-old pickup truck hauled in even as I speak. That sumbitch is going to sit in my backyard until I get around to it, and all of you are going to like it. Also, if I don’t get around to cutting my front yard one week and it has to go two between cuttings, then that’s just the way it is. If it offends you, then don’t walk down my street.

And we’re not having these weekly meetings anymore. If y’all want to get together and wring your hands about what’s good and proper and fret about property values and whatever the hell else you do besides experience real life, please do so. The First Amendment lives. But they will not be “homeowners’ association meetings.”

Finally, as I said earlier, all of the rules are gone, which means everyone who’s gotten all moist fantasizing about impeachment proceedings can kiss my ass. Really, I’m president for life at this point.

Booyah, baybee.

photo credit: dixie_law via photopin cc

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