Can you believe it?

Someone else out there hates parking tickets too.

Eric Majeski, over at Tame The Bear, sounds off, and he’s a bit ticked about being ticketed.

A Parking Ticket Plea

By Eric Majeski

“Aww, fer f*ck’s sake!”

I walk out of a friend’s house to see the orange envelope tucked under my car windshield. Yup, another parking ticket in my seemingly personal quest to personally finance Chicago’s Olympics Bid, 50 bucks at a time.

The city should at least give us the option of where the money goes. Since they don’t see fit to ever plow the snow on my residential side street with the proceeds, I vote for bringing back those ceramic cows.

Because what makes one stop thinking about the economy more than the artistry of a ceramic cow?

At least this ticket was legitimate. Most of the time, it’s a not-so-subtle form of extortion, i.e. slap a ticket on a car with an UN-expired meter, or one in a perfectly legal parking space.

They wouldn’t do something like that, would they? Not the Department of Parking Enforcement… er, the Department of Traffic Safety… er, I mean, the Department of REVENUE.

REVENUE? Sweet Jesus. That’s as subtle as an unflushed toilet. The Department of “we are here to take your money.” At least it’s transparent.

I’m convinced one of our beloved civil servants is taking shelter in my car, as sometimes I’ll leave my car for 2 minutes only to find another citation. (Umm, kind sir or madam, would you please have the common courtesy to clean up the used condoms after you’re through? Thank you.)

Apparently, being a Car NARC in these tough economic times is about as safe as being an Iraqi policeman. They no longer walk alone. Just today I saw 2 packs of 10 Department of Revenue attendants walking together delivering their ‘thank you’ notes.

Do I take a full work day off to try and fight it in traffic court and get the $50 waived? I could definitely use a day off, maybe go explore the city a bit. Problem is, I’m self-employed, and my boss is kind of a prick when it comes to missin’ work.

So, dear meter mafia, you win again. I’m beaten harder than when I put a banana in my pocket and let the monkey out.

I really miss those cows.