Where There's A Will ...

... The Tax-Man Cometh.

(which is a great blog-post title in its own right, but I digress...)

The Left (use your own definition, it'll get you close) seems inordinately interested (not to say nosey) about the average Joe's money, and how he spends it. It seems the Federal Government (especially under Democrat leadership, but not exclusively so) agrees. To wit, the previous Administration arranged to expand the workforce of the IRS by a number uncomfortably larger than eighty thousand (80,000) bodies. Feel free to search for the references, they're there.

Thankfully, that idea was quashed, along with mandatory reporting of any expenditure to a particular recipient larger than $600 in a year's time (that amount tracks your UTILITY payments, folks). The IRS already requires tracking of amounts larger than ten thousand dollars. It (the government, et. al.) has done this in the past under the idea that We The People have been underreporting income, and what we did with it, in order to make sure we give the Government its fair share.

Fair Share. 

What is our 'Fair Share'?

Before I continue, it is important to note that we did not always pay an income tax. It wasn't until the ratification of the 16th Amendment that we did so. And the common person was not in its sights; the amendment was passed under the slogan, "Soak the Rich" The One Percent, of the day, if you will. And, envy, in the hands of a democratic (a.k.a. "mob rule") vote, the 99%  envious majority voted predictably and Income Tax became the law of the land.

But did it stay just the 1%? 

I'm afraid not. 

It has crept down the brackets to the average Joe, and even the below average Joe. We each must put in our 'withholding' amounts every paycheck, and hope to get a fraction back at tax time. We call it a 'refund'. Technically, that's what it is. But it is good to remember that this 'refund' is in actuality our own money that we overpaid.

It wouldn't bother me so much if the Government would stick to its original mandate, and paid attention to the needs of the country as a whole, defending the nation, mediating interstate commerce, and other such things. But it got into the generosity business. And, with the common sense of a prodigal child, it has spent this country's income prodigiously. 

But has it come to it's senses? If it weren't so painful it would be laughable. Thus we come to Randy Cassingham's nugget below.

The nugget comes from Randy Cassingham's web-paper, This Is True (tm), from his archive section (click here to see the original). 

Stanley S. Newberg fled persecution as a Jew and came to America. He did well, and when he died, his estate was valued at $8.4 million. 

He was also grateful to the country that took him in: his will left $5.6 million in cash to the U.S. Government. 

Based on 1994 spending rates, the money will last just under two minutes. 

Randy adds the tag line of, "And we thank you for the six wrenches and four vinyl binders from the bottom of our hearts," (because we all know how well the government spends other people's money). 

(From Randy's letter code on the original posting, the article came from Associated Press, and he, himself, wrote the nugget. This, and the links already included above, should cover any 'fair use' requirements.)

Back to the diatribe. Many of you readers (heh, who am I kidding? My 'readership' is the equivalent of whispering down a well.) As I was saying, many of you readers will yell at me and say we need things like roads, bridges, a capable military, basic research, etc. To which I say, "You are absolutely right!"

I am not against the things listed in the Constitution as a mandate: protect our shores from invaders, our people from criminal harm, insure that we have a country worth keeping, help fund basic science, the stuff that often slips through the cracks. The Government, Federal, State and Local, has a job and duty to its citizens in making sure our country and the communities within have access to the means to 'pursue happiness'. 

Then to get the heck out of the way.

Various things have been added over time. The 'not-tax' of Social Security and the 'not-tax' of Medicare, being a prominent two. If Social Security had remained the trust fund that it was originally intended to be, it would be solvent, and contributions would be less onerous for those currently paying in. They (that's 'You', folks), like my parents, would be paying in for their own retirement. Medicare tax payments, likewise. Instead, it's a Ponzi scheme, and young adults today are rightly bothered by it. 

But please, don't lay the blame at my feet. That decision was made in the Sixties, when I was still in grade school. I'll let you guess what president and congress made that decision. I'll help you out: it wasn't JFK. It wasn't Tricky Dick. 

And, by and large, I'm not even blaming the Welfare State. Decisions there could be wiser.

What bothers me, is the idea of this enormous pot of money that we can grab out of, without the need to pinch pennies, or even gold pieces. It's as bottomless as a leprechaun's crock of gold.

What a crock!

And even if we reach the bottom of that crock we'll fiddle with the tax brackets, assess a new tax or fee (the secret work-around to 'No New Taxes'), find a new way to have each citizen pony up another buck, and by the time each citizen does so, that's another three-hundred-million dollars.

That's almost Real Money.

If the various levels of governments pinched the pennies as do you and I, choosing chicken instead of steak, tofu instead of chicken, beans and rice instead of anything else, We The Individual People would have a few more dollars with which to make our own choices.

Yet we have people saying that we don't deserve better than beans and rice. THEY do, but we don't. We don't deserve to make our lives a bit more comfortable. 

Those on the dole can spend the money they get foolishly or wisely. Those who spend foolishly buy junk food and manage to buy cigarettes (it happens). Those who spend wisely manage better. And yet...

Those who are on the dole who want to get off have nearly impossible walls to climb: if they have a job and don't go over the limit, but manage to save the least little bit to maybe get out of state housing and into an apartment, then they are disqualified from the assistance. Yes they can save money, but (especially at the current housing market) by the time they get first month-last month-security deposit amounts of money, they no longer qualify for assistance and cannot make that leap. In other words, they can earn and save money, but not enough for the day-to-day of the Average Joe, or even the Below Average Joe to make the leap from net taker to net earner and tax payer. 

That some do despite the hold-backs is truly miraculous. They truly have a will and determination to succeed. God bless them, and may they have continued success. And may they pay it forward.

I'm going to borrow from Chuck Woolery (you can laugh if you want to), and request that Congress refrain from spending money on metaphorical Albino Squirrels. Disregarding any malfeasance on the part of congress, I am sure there is an abundance of sympathy for those in need, and since we have this great big pot of money, and the American People are a generous bunch (and gullible, besides, what they don't know won't hurt them - except in the pocket book). And Congress puts it in the budget. 

At first, this wasn't so bad, I mean, how many Albino Squirrels (metaphorically speaking) are there really? And, look, "Here's the Social Security fund just brimming full of money, surely we can use some of it for this or that, as long as we put it back."

(A Doonesbury story arc comes to mind, not going to search for it, but you go ahead: "The Union Retirement Fund Was Just Sitting There." or words to that effect.)

Two problems have occurred over the years: one, it didn't stop with just one squirrel, and two, the way it would need to be paid back was from taxes. And taxes came from? Yeah, you got it in one guess; us.

So, now we're paying into a fund that is being paid out to retired funders, but also to orphans and widows and disabled and ... out of work, and immigrants, and (I'm gong to use a hateful term here, but it fits) wetback immigrants. 

It has gotten bad enough, that not only are the people who are willing to assimilate and become United States citizens taking from our hands, but people who only see the U.S. as a rich uncle with deep pockets have come, not wanting to assimilate, not even wanting to obey our laws (they've broken one law, what's one, or a dozen, more?), to take from our hands. 

And it pains me to think that some of our government lawmakers are complicit in this, seeing in these smiling faces voters, or at very least larger districts, to allow themselves to stay in congress. We try to elect responsible men and women who look out for the general welfare of our nation. Instead, we have many of these people using the phrase 'General Welfare' to mean anything they want, to the point of placing the needs of Albino Squirrels (as cute as they are) above the real needs of the country.

Once upon a time our generous nature was expressed in the funding of non-profit organizations, or just simply giving to the person in need. We have deductions from our tax bite for that nowadays, but before the need for the bookkeeping to keep the IRS happy, we simply gave.

We gave to organizations such as The Salvation Army and The United Way. I've given to both, and will do so again. I'll also give what I can, where I can, when I can, to individuals. This includes the homeless; I make the judgement call and I make the decision, not a bureaucrat hired to do so.

But that's not what I was talking about. I could fill the need by creating a company to meet that need. I would sell something that someone else needed. Back in the day it was a barter economy: you had something I wanted, I had something you wanted. We haggled over how many these for how many those, and when we came to an agreement, the deal was struck and stuff swapped hands.

Nowadays I would create something that you might exchange some small green pieces of paper for. I in turn, would swap a number of those green pieces of paper for something I needed or wanted, maybe more raw materials or a machine to help me create the stuff I sell more economically. I might even employ someone to help me make more of the things I make, and give HIM (or her) some of those green pieces of paper so he (or she) can exchange them for things they may want or need.

In short, I could create a business. 

In fact, having accumulated some of those green bits of paper into a fairly large stack, a certain Mr. Newman created a company for the sole purpose of giving. But he didn't just build a foundation, per se. He built a company, with himself as the brand, in order to fund, from its profits, his giving forever. Or, at least as long as Newman's Own salad dressing keeps turning a penny now and then.

He did this with a pile of his own money, earned in the movie business. I can do the same thing with whatever I've earned by whatever means.

However, if even the slightest bit of over-and-above a hand-to-mouth existence is removed from me in the form of a tax, then given to someone who doesn't even share my values, I cannot create this business. I cannot employ anyone. I cannot sell my whatsit to anyone, because I cannot make it, I cannot even buy the materials or the tools I might need to get the job done. 

But, my government 'friend' will hand me enough to keep my belly filled, just as long as I don't aspire to anything higher than to be a drone, nor even a worker bee. 

And I'll eat beans and rice, and like it.

But then, what of the Stanley Newbergs of our nation, the ones who fled persecution to settle in this land of opportunity? Or the ones born here, but dirt poor? Stanley Newberg did well enough to set aside $8.4 million by the time he died; he chose to thank our fine nation for the opportunity by giving two-thirds of that, or $5.6 million, to us, These United States, to spend wisely on his behalf.

And in 1994, it disappeared in under two minutes, flat.

We, as a nation, can do better. Our governance must do better. We need to go back to the speech that President John Kennedy gave back in the early sixties, and take his words to heart:

"Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country."

Not just by paying taxes, but by creating opportunities for others. 

Zig Ziglar said it years ago: 

"You can have anything you want as long as you help someone else get what they want!"

Not a hand out, but a hand UP.

Yes, We Can!

Real brief, for Doug Adams fans

I know it's been a while, and this is real brief since I need to rush off, but,

Today's phone bots have yet to rise to the level of Sirius Cybernetics systems.
(And we ALL know how bad THEY are!)

Carry On in Spite of, 

Yes You Can!

The Hulk is Dead, and I Don’t Feel so Well Myself

    Hulk Hogan  has been a figure who has been hard to avoid over the years. He has been on the wrestling circuit for decades, starred in movies, stumped for politicians, and generally has been a force to be reckoned with.

    Not being a wresting fan myself, the first encounter I had with his image was not a good one: he was being interviewed and the interviewer asked the question that many people were asking: “Isn’t this all just fake?” By way of an answer Hulk reached out with is right hand and slapped the interviewer on the left side of his head, and asked his own question: “That was an open-hand slap. Did that feel ‘fake’ to you?”

    The interviewer was nearly knocked over and understandably backed away. 

    Before you start laughing at this, I saw that, and immediately said to myself, “That was undeserved.” Turns out Hulk had broken the interviewer’s eardrum, and the man ended up losing about thirty percent of his hearing in that ear. 

    Now I know that that question had been floating around for years, and I’m sure the Wrestlemania folks had gotten tired of the question, or assumption, that they just faked stuff for the camera. And Hulk Hogan was probably tired of hearing about it. But that moment, he lost any respect I might have had for him.

    Over the years my feelings mellowed. In one movie 'Mr. Nanny', he was babysitting an unruly family of kids and got the usual 'Davids beating Goliath' treatment, including buckets of water, slippery surfaces, and a bowling ball on the high shelf in the closet rolling onto his head. 

    It showed that he could take a joke for the camera.

    Good Times.

    I tend not to take celebrity endorsements seriously, so when this actor or that sports figure says they’re voting this way or that, I usually tune them out. But I do occasionally get a kick out of their antics.

    For those who don’t know, Hulk Hogan’s signature front-of-camera move is to rip off his t-shirt (sorta like the Big Green Marvel character), while yelling his defiance to any challenger.

    It's fun to watch.

    The last time I saw Hulk Hogan rip off his shirt, it was to reveal a ‘Make America Great Again!’ shirt underneath.

    Whatever your politics, you should admit that that was cool!

 Sail on, Sailor.

Every Now and Then ...

Every now and then I find unusual things. Sometimes it's an odd item, sometimes an odd thought. 

Sometimes it's an odd bit of archaic whatnot. 

A lot of people have heard of the Anasazi, and the Mesa Verde cliff dwellings. There are some cliff dwellings in the Garden of the Gods area west of Colorado Springs. And, of course, Chaco Canyon. 

RadioShack, when it was trying to be relevant to the (then) current shopper included an Alanis Morissette  unplugged session in Chaco Canyon. Personally, I wasn't impressed by her, but hey, even then I was an old guy.

Just lately I learned of a site in southern Colorado that seems to be an extension of the Chaco culture: Chimney Rock, Colorado (go to this website: chimneyrockco.org). It sounds like an interesting place, and in all my sixty years in the state of Colorado I'd never heard of it. (I found out about it through this channel: TheRandallCarlson, the particular link: They Built This to Catch the Moonrise)

There are new things to be learned even in a place I have resided most of my life.

I am unsure if I'll be able to visit the site this summer, but here's hoping. 

The biggest thing that stands in our way of learning new things, accepting new challenges, or taking new paths is our own short-sighted sophistication. It's that Dunning-Kreuger thing: 'I know something about something, so I know all I need to know.' 

Novice confidence, gotta love it! 

Novice confidence can be a good thing. It is what kept me on the ski slopes, learning without meaning to, that if you're skiing moguls it really does help to keep a bend in your knees. 

With my Cognitive Field Theorist brain I try to learn a little (the world-at-large, as well as the people in it, is/are my teachers, though not officially), while showing/teaching people (again, not officially, but, everyone you meet is a student) how to do the same, filling in the 'Here Be Dragons' places on personal knowledge maps. The trick is to teach something without the learner realizing they are having their mind expanded. When you hear, 'Hey, that's cool!' or similar, you know a lesson has hit home. I've always tried to teach the wonder.

I'm at a stage in my life that I'm at the other end of the D-K process: I know enough about most things to realize I really don't know a lot about anything. So I try to keep an open mind, but also I test the new knowledge as best I can before redrawing the map.

That's a Mizpah I keep with myself.

So should you. 

Yes, You Can!

Inspiration is Where You Find It

Today has been a mixed day, and since I've crossed midnight, it's tomorrow already.

My leg hurts. My water retention has gotten bad enough that my left leg is swollen and leaking like a partly popped blister. And it hurts like blazes. I need to take my water pills, and take a walk, and find a bathroom and take a walk and take my water pills and take a walk ...

And when I walk I need to protect my leg. It's not infected, but I need to keep it clean so any opportunistic bacteria doesn't get a toe-hold. I measure my hydration/dehydration by the hoarseness of my voice: if I have a voice to sing with then I need to lose water.

That is aggravating. I love to sing, and if I cannot make music that's one more joy gone. 

I have other joys, but as I have said, today (yesterday?) has been a mixed day. I ended up sleeping through most of it, which means I'm not likely to sleep well tonight. I'll put up my movie playlist, 'drop the needle' on something I like but can ignore, and wake up whenever. Usually at three or four A.M., and won't be able to go back to sleep until nearly noon, then ...

I have tried to make a point of going to bed by eleven, or even ten, and force myself up at six, if I've managed to sleep that late (see above), and start the day: light breakfast, meds, get washed and dressed, go out for a walk. Come home and do something or other for work.

That's the plan.

Stay active, stay alive. Don't sleep so much. 

The movie I woke up to was "The Ron Clark Story." 

Inspiration is where you find it. Still a mixed day. I watched the end of the movie an hour ago; it reminded me of why, ultimately, I wanted to teach.

It also reminded me, tangentally, of Simon Sinek's TED talk: "How Great Leader's Inspire Action" If you are in a position of leadership, you need to watch it. 

AS I SAY, it reminded why I wanted to teach. It also reminded me of the 1960's ads for the Peace Corps: "The Hardest Job You'll Ever Love." I never joined the Peace Corps, though my oldest brother did. He came out a bit changed. More importantly, he was alive, and didn't need to be drafted.

The why. I need a why or two. Why to not sleep the day away, but instead to do something useful and hopefully meaningful.

Remembering, per Mr. Sinek, the why is not to make money: the monetary gain is incidental to the why. 

Why? To fill a need, to serve a cause, to put a smile on a face. I've lost my specific 'why'. Why let my leg heal, why get up and move, why take those hateful water pills?

Why teach? 

Why?

Why try?

Okay. Look at 'The Butterfly Circus', a short film (not sure if it's findable any more). The message:

'The Greater the Challenge, the More Glorious the Victory!'

Okay. My leg still hurts. 

Rise above it. 

Yes, I Can.

The Prodigal

Back in 2023 I rewrote a Bible story, and thought that I'd posted it here.

Musta slipped my memory to do so.

I'm not going to give much preamble. Instead, I'll just drop it in here. (Originally written the tail end of June, beginning of July, 2023.)

A man had two sons. The older did everything right (you might know an older brother or sister like this), and stood to inherit his share. The younger had stars in his eyes and asked to have his share of his father’s inheritance now, so he could live life on his own terms.

You get the picture? Dad, know-it-all perfect Big Brother, and Little Brother who wants to be out from under Big Brother’s disapproving eye.

Well, Little Brother converts his cattle to cash, spends like a sailor on shore leave, buying drinks for his bar buddies, and such. Predictably, he runs out of cash, and since he has not properly learned a high-paying trade, he has to take the lowest of the low poor-paying jobs out there in order to get even a bit of something to eat (all of his bar-buddy friends having dropped him, since he’s not buying drinks for them anymore, y’see).

One day, while throwing out the trash and picking through it to find something remotely edible, he has a thought: “My dad’s hired hands live far better than this. I’ll go home and ask to be a hired hand. At least I’ll have three hots and a cot. What’s the worst that can happen?”

Little Brother hitches a ride with a trucker headed the right way (Eddie Rabbit’s “Drivin’ My Life Away!” pouring out of the truck’s radio), and gets dropped off in town. He takes the long walk toward home, and says to himself, “I’ll tell my dad that I’ve sinned against him and God both, and I’ll throw myself on his mercy and ask to be allowed to be, not a son, but a hired hand.”

But when he turns in at the lane to the ranch, his dad, who has been watching for his son’s return, jumps out of the rocker and hoofs it down to where his second son is walking, and grabs him in a big daddy hug.

Younger Son kind of pushes him away and says his bit: “Dad, I’ve sinned against you and God. I don’t deserve to be your son, but can I, may I, be a hired hand?”

“None of that talk! Let’s get you cleaned up!" replies Dad, "Looks like you have more road on you that anything else! What you been doin', sloppin' hogs?” And his father walks him up to the house and the cook (who used to dote on him when he was a boy) exclaims, “You’re back! But, my goodness! Let’s clean you up! I want to see your handsome face without all that dirt on it! When you’re done I’m gonna make you your favorite meal!”

And Dad says, “Think bigger than that, Gertie! We’re gonna have us a barbecue! Have Lonnie find us a prime beeve to kill and prep for ribs and steaks and such, and get that pit hot for the roastin’! Can you make up a gallon or so of that sauce I like? And send a runner out to where his brother is working, get him in, too!” “Goodness, yes! I’ll have it ready before that pit is hot and Lonnie is done with that beeve!”

So Little Brother gets a steaming hot bath (the first in many weeks), and when he’s toweled down a bit and shaved and other whatnot, his Dad takes him into his own room, and pulls out HIS best shirt, HIS best suit, HIS best bolo tie, HIS best watch on a chain with the family signet on the other end, and the finest set of boots He has in HIS closet.

The Little Brother looks into the mirror, and sees a changed man, and doesn’t quite believe that it’s himself.

Dad asks, “Feeling better now, Son?”

The young man stands there speechless, but with a puzzled smile on his face.

“Is this how you see me, Dad?”

“This is how I’ve always seen you, Son.”

Side by side they leave the Father’s rooms and head back to the kitchen, and out to the back yard to a trestle table full of good things, including tea, lemonade, coleslaw, Texas potato salad, and sourdough bread, with space left over for the hot food to take up station when it’s ready. Those not directly helping with setting up the party are saying things to the Little Brother like, “We’ve missed you! We’re so glad you’re back!”

About sundown the Dutch oven full of baked beans, a platter of short ribs, another of steaks, and another of shredded brisket (and of course Gert’s barbecue sauce) are brought out to the table. Father says the blessing and people line up to load up their plates. Somewhere there’s a fiddler playing ‘Saturday Waltz’ from Copeland’s ‘Rodeo’.

Just as the party is hitting its stride, Big Brother comes in, dusty from working the back forty.

“What’s all this?” he asks. Father answers, “Your brother’s back! We’re celebrating! Get cleaned up and help yourself to a plate!”

 “What do you mean, ‘my brother’s back!’? The son that took his inheritance and spent it on a riotous life? YOUR money?! And you’re throwing a party for HIM?! I’ve done EVERYTHING you’ve asked of me. You’ve never even let me take a goat from the herd so I could party with MY friends! This makes NO sense!”

His father replied, “My Son, you have been good and faithful, it’s true. Everything I have will be yours when you inherit. But your Little Brother! He was lost to the world, but now he is back home! Join me, join us, in the celebration of the fact your Little Brother was lost, but now has been found!”

But Big Brother, dignity insulted, would not join in.

The fiddler moved on to “Hoedown!” and those who’d finished their strawberry-rhubarb pie moved to the dancing area and started polka-ing and two-stepping.

And a great time was had by (almost!) all.

And there it is. If ever you wonder whether you can go back again,  

Yes, You CAN!