When I (electronically) sent off my taxes I wrote an angry post and scheduled it for April 15th. My tax bill was the fuse that touched off generic bitching about hamsters on wheels, Obamaphones, and the debt that ate the world (about $16,799,234,058,456.38). I coupled it with various other political complaints and rolled it all into a black cloud of grumpiness.
Then I took a step back and decided to go with another angle.
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Even though it’s tax day, today is a good day. Why? Because the creeping monolith hasn’t yet kicked my ass. It probably hasn’t kicked yours either. We’re still here with all of the flag waving, gun clinging, obstreperous, inconvenient, self-actualized, American glory that makes “our betters” cringe. The nation that cured Polio and invented the monster truck isn’t yet a Socialist playpen. So smile dammit!
It’s a good day when you’re not scrabbling around in the dirt without a clue about anything except the core belief that someone else put you there. It’s a good day when you’re not limping around ruined Detroit waiting for your favorite party to vote you a better life. It’s a good day when you largely succeed or fail based on your own performance and you know it. It’s a good day when you don’t wallow in helplessness. It’s a good day when you’re not blaming your problems on “the man”, the rich, Big Oil, GM crops, Israel, lawyers, or any of the many target demographics purported to be the faceless “other” holding you back.
When it seems DC would have us all broke and dependent, rejoice that you’re still standing tall. Rejoice that you know who Atlas was and why Ayn Rand suggested he shrug. Rejoice that you’ve got a better sense of humor than Mrs. Rand.
Sure I cut a tax check. Sure it hurt. Sure it’s going to get flushed by some airhead in a suit who blows it on stupid shit I don’t like and don’t want. It’ll be spent on fluffery that doesn’t comport with “the shortest constitution of any country in the world“. Simply accept that your hard earned dollars will be pissed away on unimaginably moronic crap by people who aren’t smart enough to grow a tomato or build a garage.
Let it go. Make jokes about it. Laugh about subsidized sex change operations for illegal immigrants, diversity counseling for illiterate teachers, warrant-less wiretaps by drug sniffing drones, dickheads from the DMV running a hospital, medicinal toke ups in a land where tobacco is banned, or gun free Chicago racking up a homicide a day. Chuckle at big gulp bans served on a platter of subsidized solar panels. Yuck it up while ignoring elected yoyos who can’t change a flat tire lecturing to the masses about why an assault rifle’s magazine makes it deadlier than the decrepit wood stocked 30-06 that you use annually to blow a hole through the heart of a deer who never sees it coming.
It could be worse. Stalin isn’t kicking down my door. Castro isn’t running the nearest hospital (yet!). Save some special applause for the fact that public school hasn’t yet made us all morons. Every year some portion of the yearly crop of educational cannon fodder leaves college with degrees in engineering and gets filthy rich while making my life better.
They got to the smokers but left my coffee alone. My truck still has horsepower. My motorcycle can still blow away a Smart Car. My dog isn’t on a leash. I can paint my house any damn color I want. They haven’t outlawed, beer, bacon, or boobs. Go America!
The real world still holds sway. My chickens lay eggs every morning. The trees in my forest will eventually heat my house. There’s a doe hanging around in the melting snow and I’m pretty sure she’s going to wind up in the freezer. The IRS is working on it but they haven’t taxed venison and eggs cooked over split oak. Let the coasts sink because a country boy can survive.
Think to yourself “I’m still standing bitches!” Then howl at the moon like the last free citizen in a land of subjects. Don’t worry about the neighbors. If you’ve been living properly they’re either used to it or you don’t have neighbors at all.
The good news is that I’m so damn rich that I pay taxes. The good news that the recession (which has been called “green shoots” for half a decade) hasn’t skinned me alive. It could change at any time. Maybe 2013 will do me in. We are all mortal. The fact that I emerged from 2012 live and solvent is reason enough to smile.
The good news is that I not only feel superior to clueless OWS trustifairans who have 99% Kool-aid in their veins but I am superior. The good news is that I’m typing this in the same coffee shop that they think is the scorched earth monothiestic land of non-diversity that is their home planet. I’m right here, leering at my Linux laptop in a sea of Macs, and they have no idea. I’m just plain outrageously smug in the knowledge that I pay my own way like a man should. Hah! Tax checks draw a little blood but my soul is intact.
I don’t have an Obamaphone in my pocket. I fix shit that’s broke. I pull my weight. I grow food. I’m a net benefit to the whole damn world.
Hippies bitch about Big Oil until the snow flies and then they sheepishly pay tribute or freeze. I don’t. My wood pile is still a motherload of BTUs. I can define a British Thermal Unit and aggregate them with a chainsaw. I can deconstruct Kafka too. Suck it pansies. If you’re an ant in a room full of grasshoppers go ahead and be the best damn ant there ever was. It’s better than the other way around.
I’m not alone. I’ve seen 9 year old children who’ve been warehoused in public schools their whole life turn Monopoly into a contact sport. Humanity is not inherently weak and social engineering won’t change our DNA. Even on tax day it’s not all Armageddon and zombies. Smile and stand tall. While you’re standing up for yourself keep your eye open; you never know when you’ll get a chance to kick them in the balls. When you get it, take it. You’re an American. It is our patriotic duty to hate taxes, loathe politicians, and fight mean. Hopefully a few generations of castrated whiners is just a speed bump and even if it isn’t my tax check isn’t the supine compliance they imagine.