A Citizen’s Guide to Tax Reparations

Aquarian Weekly 2/9/05 REALITY CHECK

TORCH SONG OF THE MONEY WISEA Citizen’s Guide to Fair Tax Reparations

“We are right to take alarm at the first experiment upon our liberties.”– James Madison

“Pay me, sucka.” – Muddy “Mississippi” Waters

My attempt two years ago to secede from the union failed miserably. Some bullshit about landowner’s rights and state dues and back taxes, loop holes all. The best attorneys I could find in the tri-state area were felled, leaving me to write off 250 yards of barbed wire and six long months of trying to wrest a work visa for my wife out of the State Department. Heavily maligned and poorly executed as it was, my reasons were well argued and my solvency was good, but New Jersey is a tough nut to crack. Ask our last governor, who played the gay card and was sent packing. Suffice to say; if you want to claim your meager patch of land as a separate nation, sans an application to the UN and a working military, it is nearly impossible on this soil. Trust me on this.

However, in the spirit of such a bold move, this year I will attempt to recoup any personally earned or gained moneys funneled into the Social Security fund for the past quarter century plus with the caveat that I will ask for nothing from the United States treasury when my time is due.

It is important to note; whether this government restructures Social Security or crosses its collective finger for the future, it will not longer be my concern. I certainly hope things work out for the rest of you. I’ll be happy to keep tabs on the results for this gig, but for now I wish to take personal action and pull up stakes.

To this end, the letter I drafted and submitted through my congressman is lengthy, boring and mostly pointless. The highlight is thus:

“I wish to extract any funds I have heretofore put into this forecasted bankrupt mechanism of government. I will pay any penalties, sign any affidavit, and secure any insurance needed for such a transaction. You will never have to worry about me again. I shan’t come crawling back with my hand out. Enclosed is my Social Security Card to be turned in with extreme malice. This is not a joke or a symbolic gesture of dissent. I want my money and I want it now.”

We’ll see how that goes.

When I pay for an automobile and it breaks down every day and the radio doesn’t work and the brakes are faulty I don’t allow the dealer to tell me to “hang in there” and “the thing moves in a forward motion, so that is some sort of victory, no?” I chuckle and demand a refund.

In the meantime, it is important to note that all this decrying of Social Security lately, years too late for my blood, has to take a back seat to the money pit that is Iraq.

Anyone calling the 1/30 election there a victory is not familiar with the term. Victory, according to Webster’s is “an achievement of mastery”. Although it is a miraculous achievement that the country was not burned to cinder with rivers of blood running in the streets of Baghdad, I would not call the voting process a victory.

Here’s how I define victory:

Remove US troops from the equation and have another one of these babies. Let freedom ring, so to speak. Then we’ll have a fair result of political expression. If I had armored guards surrounding me I could sleep comfortably on Webster Avenue in the Bronx with two grand in my pocket. Some might call that urban safety; others might deem it a fixed game. I side with the latter’s camp on that one.

Granted, I expect our president, the architect and CEO of this doomed operation, to call it a victory. At this point he would be wise to call the safe passage of camels and one-legged peasants to the Euphrates a victory. But ignoring the company spin line, I agree with one thing King George has decreed time and again; the birth of a democracy is hard. There was plenty of bloodletting here in the first few attempts at voting. Jesus, this republic went nearly a decade with no constitution, bill of rights, an army, or anything resembling a federal government. It was fun times for anarchists, land barons and religious folk, but it wasn’t a nation, and neither will Iraq be until the foreigners get the hell out.

Until then I suspend optimism and look to aggressively recover my investment on this abortion, especially in the wake of hearing talk there will be another $30 billion needed from the taxpayers to continue policing chaos.

No sir, not me. I’m done paying for this thing. I’ve seen the results. Not a big fan. When I pay for an automobile and it breaks down every day and the radio doesn’t work and the brakes are faulty I don’t allow the dealer to tell me to “hang in there” and “the thing moves in a forward motion, so that is some sort of victory, no?” I chuckle and demand a refund.

This is a case for an old fashioned do-over. I no longer want my money going toward this thing. If all the flag-wavers want in, great! Good luck to you. Count me out.

That’s right, I’m on record: I do not support our troops. Shudder if you must, but at this point anyone choosing a free trip in uniform to the Middle East over prison does not get my support. My pity? Yes. My sympathy? Absolutely. Support? No more. No how.

I choose instead to ignore the pentagon, these silly Donald Rumsfeld press conferences and whatever statistics anyone wants to e-mail to me on either side of the debate, and object conscientiously.

As a stockholder in this country and its actions here and abroad, I will happily wave my right to sue the company on misuse of funds and misleading investors on the length and breath of things if I can simply bail out with my losses. I’ll even cease trashing the thing in print. I just want whatever percentage of my taxes that have gone to Mission Iraq returned promptly. Fair is fair.

And in order to quell any suggestions that I move to another country, I say no. I like bad television, shitty food and sports. I prefer instead to enact my rights and cause trouble with the hopes it will inspire the spirit of democracy and freedom the world over. That, and I’m a selfish prick.

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