Currently NOT Collectible

Well, the Fun has Begun. My IRS status is "Currently Not Collectible." What does this mean? It means that I meet the criteria for really low payments right now, but I still have penalties and interest coming my way. Oh well. At least I did something.

After a nice 65 minute phone call today with six or seven holds inbetween, Mr. Dietz from Portland OR told me that I would be able to switch over to this status based on the fact that I have basically been rejected permanently for a job down here. 27 "overqualifieds"/ignored applications and my tutoring has really left me with no steady income. Another Facebook friend of old, Blorange (see posts from 2005), will be accomodating me for my eventual move back up to NYC (at least, tentatively for now) so that I can join Con Edison once and for all. Until that Con Ed check begins? It's $25 from Mom to the IRS. Retail, doctors, bookstores (!!!) and school kids with low reading scores don't want my services. So, fuck 'em. I'm going to shoot for the big star this time. With any luck, I'll be able to bring up my cats into a big house with lots of happy people and two dogs from what I hear, and we will all be smiling New Yorkers once again.

My next hurdle--bankruptcy--begins next week. I am not giving these damn credit card companies a fucking dime. Obama made a HUGE mistake by not enforcing usury laws when he changed the credit card "code" this past February. With penalties, all the time passed and my lack of income, I would probably have 50-90% of my paycheck taken away by Visa and Mastercard. I don't think they'd care that I'd have nothing to live on; that's the way of corporate America. And I'm fucking sick of it. Seeing the debacle of BP's "We're Not Responsible" oil spill these past two weeks makes Exxon-Valdez from 1989 look like Disney. What have we learned from these evil wonks? As my friend Willow says, "Slavery is freedom, war is peace, poison is health." Humans? Who needs 'em? Animals? Kill 'em all, they taste good. Children? Useless rug rats. Women? Stupid bitches, they need to shut up. Permanently. The elderly? Kill 'em, too, they're old and taking up space. We're rich white men and we need to count our money. Is it any wonder that the world is supposed to end in 2012? I'm ready for an apocalyptic hoe-down. I believe in entropy, always have. It's the nature of things to destroy what is no longer necessary.

Since I am currently residing in a place where gender is rule (men=good; women=annoying) and color is law (white=power; brown/black=servitude), I've had about all I can take with who's above and below me. I have always seen people in terms of connectedness, not rank. Again, this is why I continually bumped heads during my Office Years. This is what I'm now going to call my job situations other than the Rink ('96-'98). How I could blindly believe that the only way for me to be seen, heard and appreciated was by sitting at a desk is positively, laughably delusional given the fact that most of my working class colleagues are now viewed as no better than chattel. Offal. Garbage. No. Sorry. Game Over. I'm not playing anymore.

Should I have to take another office job, it will be temporary until Con Ed gets its classes together, and I assure you that I will do the LEAST amount of work to get that paycheck. I worked hard, I gave a damn, I showed up, I let people confide in me, I cared, I helped, I went beyond the call of duty many times unpaid, unthanked, unappreciated. NO MORE. NEVER AGAIN. I see now that without a union or worker protections? I'm never going to be paid what I'm worth even I have proof or if I beg. So, you get nothing out me, all you lousy stuffed shirts. The last three years have made me cold, hard, and very unreasonable. My friends are my friends and I love you. My bosses? You were never my friends and weren't meant to be. If I am supposed to work like a man? Well, I'm going to act like the ones I've been stuck with. With the exception of one of my supervisors (a lovely Clark Kent look-alike now residing in CA), I'm going to mimic, rather than be myself. Being myself has gotten my ass kicked, so that doesn't work. I'll put on the mask and play the game for as long as I have to. When better options come about? Buh-bye. You want loyalty? You'd better give it. You want slavish devotion? I'd better see overtime, a good wage, and bonuses. Other than that, get in the back of the line. I've got bigger fish to fry.

I am happy to note that my three big utilities have been paid. I just owe my overdraft from my now-defunct checking account with Bank of America (DON'T GET ME STARTED!) and of course, my dear readers of this blog. My timeline for paying you will be through the rest of this year. Again, I wish it could go faster, but I'm going to pump out the tiny amounts that I was given (the $25, $50 here and there), then the $100 bunch (Meg, you're in here! Don't fret =^..^=), then the legal crap ($1,000's) and my back rent (over $5,000) since a civil judgment has been placed in my NYS Housing Court file. I will never be able to rent from a management company, purchase a co-op, or get a loan for a condo if this isn't taken off my record or corrected as "account paid in full." Shitty basement apartments with crappo roommates will be in my near future, but hey, all this mess will only make me more colorful in the end, I guess.

I've learned a helluva lot since His Name We Abuse offed me. But it's all grist for the mill. I may get a book out of this after all.

:-)