Taxation Event Without Representation is Still A Bite in the Old Pants

Tom Amsel. pg 2jpgA Boomer’s Journal

By Tom Anselm

We are about to enter a wonderful season of the year. No, I’m not talking about springtime, golf, March Madness, baseball or hockey playoff season. I am, with tongue firmly planted in cheek, referring to… duh duh da duh…. Tax Season.

How ‘wonderful’ that we working stiffs and stiff-ettes get to send the good old government even more money, at least in many people’s cases, so they can squander our hard-earned bucks in frivolous travel, pork-barrel projects and bridges to nowhere.  I for one am sick up to here with seeing a certain guys wife and kids getting all them free international vacations on my dime. I mean, just stay home, why dontcha?

The millions it costs for one of those jaunts would save about 2000 of us average Joe’s from paying any taxes at all.  Not to mention the fact that most national legislators are only in session for about half the year at best. But then that may be a good thing, keeping them away from passing even more bills for us to fund.

As a responsible American, I am happy to pay my fair

share for safe streets, public parks, fire and police protection and the like.  And I am also not against picking up the tab for maintaining a strong military. However, it irks me to no end that the laws are such that big corporations can get away with paying little or no tax when I and my wife are forking over 20%.

All but one of our cute little deductions have grown up and left the nest.  So we don’t have that perk anymore.  And whenever we need some cash from our investments that were funded by our retirement accounts, we have to take a tax hit.  Even Social Security is taxed.

So all this gets a fella to wondering.  Is there some way to get around this that won’t result in some G-man from the  IRS a-knock, knock, knocking on my door in the dead of night?  Can I somehow fly under the tax radar, legally of course?

Maybe I could make changes    on  some stuff that is taxable, like investments.  Just take it all out, keep it hidden somewhere (no, I’m not going to tell you where!), use it as cash.  Or I could work out a barter system.

The only trouble with that is I have no marketable skills, unless you can count writing this column.  Yeah, I can just see this exchange with the guys at J and M Auto…”Hey, Mike… can I get an oil change on my Fusion?  I’ll write you a  nice grammatically-correct paragraph.”  Right.

Maybe the only way we could  do this in even a small way is if Jill and I sold everything, pulled  our few bucks from Edward Jones,  had our Social and pension checks sent to a PO box, bought an Airstream trailer and lived in  a different kids driveway on a rotating basis.  No way to trace us, no property tax, just a little income tax.  But then I am pretty sure the lovely wife wouldn’t go for that idea.  Her idea of camping is a room at the Hilton.

And although the grandkids might like   Grampa and Grandma around, not so sure our children’s significant others would be on board.  And I’m pretty sure that if a satellite can see my front door from space,  the good old IRS can find me even more easily.

I guess I’ll just need to quit my bellyaching and listen to what good old Ben Franklin said:  “In this world, nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes.”

So, with that reminder, I’ll just shut up and pay the toll.



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