You want another
800 bucks? What the hell did you do with the $5,349 I already gave you last year?
Oh, that's right, you tossed it all in a desert and set it on fire. Or tossed it all over Wall Street and let them
set it on fire.
Bravo, Douchie Le Rue.
Well, you know what, government? I'm not buying you any more toys to play with if you can't treat what I've already given you with respect.
I mean, seriously. What the hell is the matter with you? I'm lucky if I pull $420 a week with all the damn taxes you're hitting me with already, and now you want even more? For what? A new war? You barely did anything with the last
one you started.
And that take-home figure, by the way, has not gone up in three years
. Oh sure, I'm in a union and I get contractual raises, which is all well and good. But I also pay more every year in non-income taxes and medicare and all sorts of other little odds and bodkins that get sucked out of my check on a weekly basis. So I never actually see
more money go into my pocket, but you jerks at the IRS don't care because on paper
I made more in 2008 than in 2007.
Well, hooray for me.
And I ain't complaining about having a job, because lord knows that's not easy to come by these days (if you're not related to someone at the government center). Hell, I just watched someone put out 100-plus resumes before getting any
thing, but COME ON.
It's like if I'm not spitting out half a dozen ignorant, unwanted rats to suck at your teat or entering into some ill-advised, legally-binding relationship (read: marriage), I don't get any
break at all. Where's all this compassion for the working man I hear so much about? Huh?
Oh, that's right. I get an extra $11 a week in my paycheck. Woop-de-freakin-doo. Let's see now, $11 ... times 52 ... carry the staggering debt, and that comes to ... ONE TENTH OF THE FREAKIN' MONEY YOU'RE SUCKING OUT OF MY WITHERED HUSK!
Well, bad news there, buckaroo, because I ain't got it. As of this writing, I have 22 cents in the bank. I am not even kidding.
So you say, "That's okay, we can work out a payment plan." Oh, goodie, can we? "Sure," you say. "It'll only cost you $45 up front, an undefined percentage of interest, plus penalties for any late payments if you should happen to come up short one month because, you know, YOU'VE ALREADY BEEN TAXED TO DEATH."
Well, forget that, man. And forget you. I ain't playing your stupid reindeer games anymore. What're you gonna do, send me to debtors prison (read: Georgia)? Good! I'll alert the media. Let's make this a big, fat, ugly political statement. I'm gonna enjoy being an economic martyr, roasting on the cross for the sins of bankers everywhere, critiquing all the horribly stupid garbage you rich bastards throw cash at like its a damn carny game with baseballs and milk bottles.
First item I'll be shouting incoherently about from the stockade? You guessed it: bailouts for the perversely rich, all of whom I would at this point like to bludgeon to death with a stack of junk bonds.
Unless you're giving that bailout money directly to me in a zero-sum exchange for your insane economic policies, then forget it. Look, this one should be easy: Let poorly-run companies die, that well-run companies might thrive. That's capitalism. Get with it, or I'll set you on fire.
Number two? Iraq War. You say we gotta stay around to make sure we "safely" redeploy over an 18-month period? Wrong again, jackass. First of all, the longer you're there, the less safe it becomes. Secondly, if an invading force finally decides to leave a country, I promise you, I guaran-freaking-tee you
, the natives will not only help you pack, they will drive you at break-neck speeds to the airport without firing bullet one.
Which oughta free up a few billion, doncha think?
Or hey, how about we don't put ads for MONEY on television anymore, huh? You think we really need a $20 million advertising campaign telling people there's a new Washington dollar coin? No. No we don't. We'll see the things when they get into circulation. It's not like I won't figure out it's legal tender and just start throwing the stupid things away in the trash cans next to Septa ticket machines (which is the only place you'll ever see them dispensed, by the way, because FOR THE LAST FREAKING TIME, THIS IS NOT EUROPE AND WE DON'T WANT YOUR STUPID COIN MONEY).
And that's just a taste of my wrath, Mr. Tax Man, I got plenty more where that came from. Enough to write a book - or a manifesto, maybe?
It's up to you. Do what's right and this can all go away. If you don't, well ...
Then I guess I'll see you in court.