The Taxman Cometh
For the first time in my life, I had to file an extension for my taxes this year. My taxes have simply gotten too complicated for me, a college-educated engineer, to figure out. Last year, with a tax preparer doing them for me, my refund wound up far less than expected. In other words, the no-interest loan I give the United States and my state government every year had less principle than one would think, given the exorbitant proportion of my income deducted from every paycheck.
This year, I paid more in taxes than my father grossed each year for most of my childhood. I do not live in a substantially bigger home than he did, nor do I drive a better car than he did, nor do I have as much in savings as he did. I do not have any children. Yet the federal government took his wages from me.
Tax Day has a great way of focusing one's thoughts on how big, how intrusive, and how abusive the government at all levels has become. Every time somebody's labor is transformed into cash, the government gets a taste, like Tony Soprano.
We're protecting Europe militarily so they can use their tax and tariff revenue to give themselves 35-hour work weeks and full retirement benefits. Uncle Sam doesn't get a taste of that.
We're liberating countries across the globe swimming in oil revenues. Yet we're paying more than ever at the pump, of which Uncle Sam gets a taste. The Iraqis, beneficiaries of our military service, aren't giving us a taste, however.
Politicians routinely reward themselves with tax revenue. We don't get a taste.
At the end of our working lives, if we're lucky, all the Social Security money my generation has invested, we might get a taste of it. We surely won't get the whole pie, as most Boomers will, or even somebody else's pie, as the Greatest Generation did. Reforming Social Security is the only way we and those who come after us will get more than a taste.
Meanwhile, we keep preparing food with the sweat of our brow for our government to devour. It gets fatter and fatter every year, and demands more and more to consume.
It succeeds because it gives enough Americans a taste of other Americans' dinner to ensure those who've put their lifeblood into preparing a decent meal continue to let those who haven't eat off their plates, for fear of what would happen if they asked them to stop.
My church is asking me to give them a taste as well. I'm not going to give them as big a taste as they've asked for, as they're already getting fat, and the government's taking so much meat off the plate I wonder if I'll have any left for the years when my teeth aren't very good.
When it comes to taxes, everybody's getting a taste. Everybody except for the person whose toil, sweat, and brainpower grew the food which provided the meal in the first place.
Something to think about this Tax Day.
This year, I paid more in taxes than my father grossed each year for most of my childhood. I do not live in a substantially bigger home than he did, nor do I drive a better car than he did, nor do I have as much in savings as he did. I do not have any children. Yet the federal government took his wages from me.
Tax Day has a great way of focusing one's thoughts on how big, how intrusive, and how abusive the government at all levels has become. Every time somebody's labor is transformed into cash, the government gets a taste, like Tony Soprano.
We're protecting Europe militarily so they can use their tax and tariff revenue to give themselves 35-hour work weeks and full retirement benefits. Uncle Sam doesn't get a taste of that.
We're liberating countries across the globe swimming in oil revenues. Yet we're paying more than ever at the pump, of which Uncle Sam gets a taste. The Iraqis, beneficiaries of our military service, aren't giving us a taste, however.
Politicians routinely reward themselves with tax revenue. We don't get a taste.
At the end of our working lives, if we're lucky, all the Social Security money my generation has invested, we might get a taste of it. We surely won't get the whole pie, as most Boomers will, or even somebody else's pie, as the Greatest Generation did. Reforming Social Security is the only way we and those who come after us will get more than a taste.
Meanwhile, we keep preparing food with the sweat of our brow for our government to devour. It gets fatter and fatter every year, and demands more and more to consume.
It succeeds because it gives enough Americans a taste of other Americans' dinner to ensure those who've put their lifeblood into preparing a decent meal continue to let those who haven't eat off their plates, for fear of what would happen if they asked them to stop.
My church is asking me to give them a taste as well. I'm not going to give them as big a taste as they've asked for, as they're already getting fat, and the government's taking so much meat off the plate I wonder if I'll have any left for the years when my teeth aren't very good.
When it comes to taxes, everybody's getting a taste. Everybody except for the person whose toil, sweat, and brainpower grew the food which provided the meal in the first place.
Something to think about this Tax Day.
1 Comments:
Being a dairy farmer, I think I know a little bit about people eating off my plate. My husband works seven days a week; yahda, yahda, yahda... I don't want him to sound too much like a slave, but... The good thing is that, so far, after six years of farming, we still get a taste of your pie in a tax return. The bad thing is we are in such a low earning bracket that we don't ever get too far ahead of the wolves.
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