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Blogging to you from the Northeastern Badlands of The County of Lake, in the state currently known as Fatmanistan, DEEP DEEP DEEP DEEP DEEP inside the heartland of the Banana Republic formerly known as the USA, WELCOME TO THE NEXT CHAPTER! WARNING! ALL FORMS OF SOCIAL MEDIA ARE ADDICTIVE; EXCESSIVE USE MAY LEAD TO MENTAL HEALTH DISORDERS, REDUCED JOB PRODUCTIVITY, INSOMNIA, SOCIAL ALIENATION, GENITAL ULCERS, BLINDNESS, POLITICAL EROTICISM, AND / OR DEVIANT FUNAMBULISM. NOTICE: NO GUNS OR AMMUNITION ARE FOR SALE VIA THIS BLOG. (No, I will not trade my Colt Python for some lubricious adventures with your trophy wife and a future first-round draft pick.) CAVEAT: This blog is not suitable for viewing while at work, while inside a public library, while inside any public or private school, or while inside any public or private restroom. Do not view this blog while driving a motor vehicle or while piloting an aircraft. Viewing this blog may be illegal inside the EU, NYC, Chicago, Seattle, and other parts of the Third World. THIS BLOG CONTAINS (albeit often very childish) ADULT-CONTENT. DISCLAIMER: This blog is a hobby, it is not a livelihood. Even though much of what I blog about relates to firearms collecting and recreational shooting, I am not an expert (by any measure) on any facet of guns, shooting, hunting, or personal defense. Entries at this blog are akin to good old-fashioned campfire chats or post hunt bourbon-fueled barroom-bluster; I offer no opinion on what you should or should not purchase, or what you should be using or doing. What does or does not work for me could be rugged-country-miles away from your tastes and your needs. All products, places, and miscellany that I review for this blog are purchased / rented / leased at retail price by me. I do not accept payment, gifts, discounts, freebies, products on loan, distilled spirits, recreational pharmaceuticals, plea-bargains, probation, parole, Papal Blessings, Presidential Pardons, or sexual favors for doing any review or blog post. TRACKING COOKIES: Google et al stick tracking cookies on everybody. If you are online, you are being spied on via one method or another, for one reason or another; 'nuff said. You may be able to minimize your online DNA residue by using Tor and Duck Duck Go. Vive la liberté! Vive all y'all! Ante omnia armari. To each of you, thanks for stopping by!

Saturday, April 10, 2010

Taxes taxes taxes

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Yesterday was supposed to be Tax Freedom Day, on average, the day when we have earned enough to pay our annual burden of local, state, and federal taxes. Supposedly, what we earn from then on out is ours to use for food, shelter, clothing, transportation, healthcare, and other of life’s essentials. Any money we have left over is discretionary.

In theory, society expects each of us to pay our share to fund the multitude of government services “essential” to this great nation. Oddly, 47% of HOUSEHOLDS IN THE USA LEGALLY PAID NO FEDERAL INCOME TAXES IN 2009. According to an AP story, “In recent years, credits for low- and middle-income families have grown so much that a family of four making as much as $50,000 will owe no federal income tax for 2009, as long as there are two children younger than 17…”

Yes, I am a pissed off taxpayer who thinks government has gone too far and that many Americans are nothing but whining sissies expecting (and receiving) far more than they deserve. I was making below minimum wage as an apprentice machinist during the year 1971. There were no “tax credits” for me back then; my take home pay after taxes was around $68 for a 60-hour workweek. Nope, $68 a week was not a “living wage” in those days, I had to make do. There were times during my life when I worked a fulltime job plus two part-time jobs in order to make ends meet. Never did I receive a dime of unemployment pay; when I lost a job, I would find another one even if was at a lower wage. Never did I receive one dime of Worker’s Compensation pay; I had a few serious injuries over the years but was always back to work the next day. When I cut off the tip of my middle finger (I lost a chunk of bone that time) in a machine shop accident, I was back working the same machine the next day, splinted and bandaged. Another industrial accident crushed my right hand and ripped all of the skin from it; I was back to work the next day. I worked while wearing bandages and a cast for the following six-weeks. Back-injuries and broken ribs were no excuse for not working; you taped yourself up and worked while on crutches if needed. I had one stretch when I worked for over 20-years without taking a sick-day; it ended when I took half of a sick day off to pass a kidney stone.

My father’s health insurance plan booted me out the door when I was 18-years-old. Shortly thereafter, I became grievously ill with some strange blood disorder (they speculated it was from the chemicals at work). All of my earnings went to pay my medical bills; when I lost my job and the money ran out, I was on my own to live or die. When my daughter was born I paid the hospital and doctors bills with cash from my pocket; a job change put my wife’s pregnancy as a pre-existing condition for the new health care provider.

I learned many hard lessons at a tender age. I have done well during my lifetime and now live comfortably, everything I have I earned the old-fashioned way; I worked hard, studied hard, and invested in myself and in equities for my future. Please don’t expect me to quietly give up what I have earned so bunches of spineless, unmotivated underachievers won’t have to break a sweat.
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