Even my body works in metaphor

I've had, off and on, a feeling for weeks that something in me needs to come out. I'm not at all talking physically; beyond that, I'm unsure what I am talking about. Anyway, when this feelong is at its peak, my body kindly obliges with the feeling that, if I just tried hard enough, I could vomit forth whatever it is, and be done with it.

Why I hate freeloaders

Georgia (the state in which I live) has bowed to freeloader pressure, and is enacting an irresponsible, libertarian wet-dream of a consumer weekend; no sales tax! Whee! Never mind that the state is losing money left and right, and that basic services are being terminated. "But why does that pertain to me? I'm not on welfare", you may be thinking. What the fuck ever; roads, police, infrastructure, are all underwritten with tax dollars, as is education. But, because a lot of people have it set in their minds that "Taxes is bad, yu-huh" and don't think they should pay for these services, we have this stupid policy.

While I am incredibly opposed to this on governmental, philosophical, and economic reasons, it's also annoyingly personal for me. Because I work in one of the areas that is tax exempt, I can count on working 14 hour days, four days straight, so that selfish, irresponsible tax freeloaders can save a tiny bit of money.

Weep for me, and weep for those poor customers who have to suffer through my sleep-deprived, exhausted performance.

Edit: Hyperbole alert

In the rant above, the term "libertarian" is used to indicate the shallow, selfish people who ostensibly want guns and drugs with no taxes on anything but a continuation of fundamental services who, in times of more careful speech/writing I refer to as "those irresponsible and selfish folks who give other libertarians a bad name". Unfortunately, the vast majority of those who label themselves libertarian with whom I have come into contact over the years have fallen into that category; the number of thoughtful, reflective libertarians with whom I have come into contact is much, much smaller.

(no subject)

I am in a foul, foul mood, and I'm just about sick of it. I've been this way for days now: alternately sad, irratible, angry, and something approaching hopeless. It's gross, it's yucky, and I don't want it any more. Too bad I really can't vomit it forth.