by doing what you should have the gawddamn right to do on your own property!
It's not your property. Here is a somewhat humorous parody that happens to illustrate the point and even addresses the topic of this thread:
"The Peasant's New Property"
Not so many years ago lived a peasant, though he didn't think of himself as such, who thought so much of real property ownership that he spent most of his time slaving away in his cubicle at work to acquire enough money to purchase some. He had little time for friends, family, or other amusements; in fact, the only thing he thought much about was his bi-weekly paycheck. His schedule contained labor for almost every hour of the day, and as one would say of a peasant, "He is out in the fields", so one could say of him, "He is in his cubicle".
The suburb where he desired to own property was very gay; every day many strangers from all parts of the globe arrived. One day two swindlers came to this suburb; they made everyone believe they were real estate agents and declared that they could sell the finest property one could own. Their architecture and design, they said, were not only exceptionally beautiful, but the homes and land possessed the wonderful quality of having its ownership unperceivable by any man who was irrational or unpardonably stupid.
"That must be wonderful property," thought the peasant. "If I were to own such property I should be able to find out which of my fellow men are irrational, and I could distinguish the clever from the stupid. I must have this property without delay." And he gave a large sum of money to the swindlers, in advance, that they should set to work without any loss of time. They prepared lots of paperwork and pretended to be very hard at work. They asked for commissions and all sorts of fees which were quickly drawn from the man's bank accounts, and they appeared to work until late at night.
"I should very much like to know how they are getting on with my purchase," thought the peasant. But he felt rather uneasy when he remembered that he who was irrational or stupid couldn't perceive its ownership. Personally, he was of the opinion that he had nothing to fear, yet he thought it advisable to send somebody else first to see how matters stood. He told everyone he knew what remarkable quality the property possessed, and all were anxious to see how bad or stupid their neighbors were.
"I shall send my friend who is an accountant to the agents," thought the peasant. "He can judge best the ownership, for he is intelligent, and nobody understands his office better than he."
The accountant went to the property where the swindlers sat, perused the paperwork and asked lots of questions. "Heaven preserve us!" he thought, and opened his eyes wide, "I cannot see any ownership at all," but he did not say so. Both swindlers requested him to come near, and asked him if he did not admire the exquisite deal they were offering, pointing to the paperwork on the desk. The accountant tried his very best, but he couldn't see it. "Oh dear," he thought, "can I be so stupid? I should never have thought so, and nobody must know it! Is it possible that I am irrational? No, no, I cannot say that I was unable to perceive the ownership."
"Now, have you got nothing to say?" said one of the swindlers, while he pretended to be busily punching numbers into his calculator.
"Oh, it is quite the deal," replied the accountant looking through his glasses. "To finally own real property! I shall tell my friend that I like the deal very much."
"We are pleased to hear that," said the two agents, and described to him in great detail the minutiae of property ownership. The accountant listened attentively, that he might relate to his friend what they said minus his concerns.
After a while, the peasant sent another friend to the agents who had the same exact experience as the accountant. He was unable to see any real ownership, but conveyed the same lie to his friend for fear of being seen as irrational.
At last the peasant wished to see the paperwork himself, and finally sign the contract. With a number of friends, including the two who had already been there, he went to the two clever swindlers.
"Is it not a great deal?" said the two friends who had been there before. "You can finally have the liberty inherent in owning your own property!"
The peasant looked over the paperwork and came across a section the agents had thoughtfully provided that detailed the local property taxes he would have to pay. He was shocked to see that the amount was over half what he was currently paying for rent, and much like rent, had to be payed in perpetuity lest the state seize his property and evict him. He wondered how paying the state was any different than paying a landlord in such a case, but since the amount was less and not wanting to think he was irrational or unpardonably stupid kept his thoughts to himself.
There was also a section on eminent domain stating that the state could seize his property at any time for its own use, but since that rarely happened and not wanting to think he was irrational or unpardonably stupid kept his thoughts to himself.
In addition, there was a plethora of ordinances limiting how the property be used, including such minor details as to what plants could be grown on it and to what length and much more. It bothered him that he had little freedom to decorate or use his property how he wished, but not wanting to think he was irrational or unpardonably stupid kept his thoughts to himself.
It was actually quite apparent that it was the state who truly owned the property, and he was merely renting it from them. Ownership was nothing but an illusion, but not wanting to think he was irrational or unpardonably stupid kept his thoughts to himself.
All the friends he had brought with him advised him to purchase the property and announced that they would throw him a great party to celebrate once he moved in. He then signed the contracts, transferred over the funds and paid for the property in full. He was finally a property owner! Or was he?