That wacky Gallic advocate of total war, Georges Clemenceau, is reputed to have said something like (in French, I suppose), “Not to be a socialist at twenty is proof of want of heart; to be one at thirty is proof of want of head.” Fair enough. But what does it mean when, as the years pass, a man finds himself becoming more of an anarchist?

I’m referring to myself, though I’ll admit the journey hasn’t had to cover that much distance. Basically, I’ve gone from a resigned tolerance of a necessary, if malodorous, evil to a total intolerance for an institution that just insists on stinking the place up. Which is to say, it’s not like I’ve been holding the state up to an impossible standard.

But no matter how low my expectations, our fearless political leaders continue to find new ways to impress me, in ways big and small.

Last week, my business partners (including my wife) and I found out that a commercial building we put up a few years ago hadn’t had all the “i”s dotted and “t”s crossed in the approval of its fire protection systems — sprinklers, extinguishers, emergency lights and such. We were at risk of failing the latest fire inspection and losing use of the building.

To avoid that fate, we had to bring in a company that maintains and certifies the system. We sign a multi-year contract, and they go through the building and attach their little tags to everything. When the Fire Department sends an inspector out, the inspector signs off if he sees those tags.

Not just anybody can fasten those tags, of course — only people with the proper protection services permit (PDF).

Hmmm … I wonder who got that law passed?

No, it’s not a big deal, nor is it a huge expense. But isn’t it awfully handy when people are required by law to use your services?

Overall, I’m probably more impressed by little annoyances like the fire-protection racket than I am by wars and large-scale injustices. The sad fact is that atrocities and body counts can all too easily be dismissed (often inaccurately) as aberrations or unfortunate incidents unconnected to everyday life. But cost-of-doing-business scams permeate our daily lives. Each one only incrementally makes life harder, more-expensive and less free, but they add up very quickly.

Even if we’re horrified by a misfired CIA drone or the federal government’s recent indulgence in shopping therapy, it’s easy to convince ourselves that we’re insulated from the results. But there’s no escaping the inspectors, regulators, judges and politically favored businesses.

Or the voyeur school administrators. Getting freebies from the state — like tax-funded laptops — looks a little less tempting when it leads to educrats peeping at your teenagers in their bedrooms.

As life goes on, everything I see the government touch becomes a little more corrupt, intrusive — and just plain nasty.

But god help you if you become too blase about playing the corruption game. Make sure you pay fees, not bribes, or the authorities will come down on you like a ton of bricks. Can’t tell the difference? Oooh. Best of luck to you.

And that’s all before we get to those wayward drones and spending sprees.

Georges Clemenceau probably wouldn’t have been too sympathetic to a middle-aged man hoisting the black flag — after all, while Prime Minister of France, he jailed one of his predecessors who questioned the wisdom of continuing to send troops into the meat grinder that was the First World War. But then again, Clemenceau’s example is yet more reason to suspect that my growing anarchism may be properly bringing my head and heart into close agreement.

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