Rent is Bullshit

There are many transactions that I am fully happy spending money on. Purchase of goods and services, for example. When I buy beer, I am buying a product that someone has infused with their utils, and, when I consume it, it will bring me joy. The fact that the product costs more than the sum of its parts is to compensate for the skilled labor and util infusing of the beer manufacturer, for which I am more than happy to say, "here, have money."

Rent is not like this. Rent is simply saying "Hey man, I own that shit you are living in! Pay me $30 a night for the privilege!"

What? Hell no man! You didn't even build the thing! You hired someone else to, maybe, or, more likely, purchased it from somone else. You are never around, and you don't even supply my utilities! I pay a freaking gas bill, electric bill, cable, highspeed, cleaning lady, swedish masseur, and delivery chinese. You supply none of these services. If you were to, say, charge me for shit that you actually do, like, I don't know, take out my freaking garbage, I would be happy to pay you. But no. You do nothing except look for more ways to screw me out of more rent, for which you infuse no new utils into my life.

Maybe, just maybe, if you didn't shut down my bootlegging operation, my cigar smuggling ring, my underground scorpion fight semi-annual, or poisonous fern appreciation society, I would have felt obligated to cut you in for some of the proceeds. But no.

You, sir, are a jerk.