Separated At Birth

Is it just me or does that moronic, self-proclaimed skin head that wanted to lop off a bunch of heads look like a cast member of Sesame Street? (Note to self: Must get Photoshop.)

Ares

So. Much fuss is made by the Rs about the Obama tax plan, and they say it would have 45% of the tax base paying no taxes. While, as a taxpayer, I like to believe that my fellow Americans are pulling that wagon with me, I know that all of them are not.

For those earning too little, I bear no ill will. Since I was raised by a single mom working pink collar jobs, I know what its like to be in a family headed by a hard worker who just doesn’t earn enough.

For those earning too much, however, I would like a little change. I am not naïve enough to believe that there will ever be an employee of the I.R.S. savvy and well-equipped enough to find all the myriad tax shelters and refuges of the very wealthy.

And yes, I know that the very wealthy pay a large, large portion of the taxes already in this country. But, and I quote W. here, quoting John F. Kennedy “to whom much is given, much is expected.” (Interesting side note: he has used that quote at least four times in the last year or so; in announcing his intention in early 2007 to reauthorize PEPFAR, the President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief, in remarks in honor of World AIDS Day last November, in a BBC interview in February 2008, and in a USAID speech in July 2008. Does he know he’s quoting a Democrat? Does he care?)

So, when I turned on my television the other night for little mindless viewing, I was amused to see Ari Fleischer (yes, the one who left the Bush administration a while back) singing the party song about that 45% who will not pay taxes under an Obama presidency.

And it got me to thinking (always a bad sign, but bear with me).

Let’s flip that, shall we? What that really tells me is that 45% of our working folks earn SO LITTLE that they should not be taxed. Nearly one half of Americans, working jobs, who earn so little that they should not be taxed. And its contrary to all we are taught as Americans—that if you work hard, play by the rules, and do the right thing, you will get ahead.

None of this changes my mind about who I will vote for Tuesday week. But it does remind me how very lucky I am—I have a roof over my head, heat in my house, and (too much, really) food to eat. I am lucky to live where I live, at the time I live, and to have the freedoms and abilities I have. I am happy to do my part, and for those who might take advantage or try to get over, well, that’s for them to live with.

Athena

Marmot Monday

Marmot Monday

Marmot Monday

Get Well P.J.

Disturbing news was just received at the A&A Global Operations Center. Seems P.J. O'Rourke, Ares favorite and writer I'd most like to be, has been diagnosed with cancer. Those that are familiar with P.J.'s work will probably say "what took so long". From his own literary mouth....

I looked death in the face. All right, I didn't. I glimpsed him in a crowd. I've been diagnosed with cancer, of a very treatable kind. I'm told I have a 95% chance of survival. Come to think of it -- as a drinking, smoking, saturated-fat hound -- my chance of survival has been improved by cancer.

I still cursed God, as we all do when we get bad news and pain. Not even the most faith-impaired among us shouts: "Damn quantum mechanics!" "Damn organic chemistry!" "Damn chaos and coincidence!"

I have, of all the inglorious things, a malignant hemorrhoid. What color bracelet does one wear for that? And where does one wear it? And what slogan is apropos? Perhaps that slogan can be sewn in needlepoint around the ruffle on a cover for my embarrassing little doughnut buttocks pillow.

Furthermore, I am a logical, sensible, pragmatic Republican, and my diagnosis came just weeks after Teddy Kennedy's. That he should have cancer of the brain, and I should have cancer of the ass ... well, I'll say a rosary for him and hope he has a laugh at me. After all, what would I do, ask God for a more dignified cancer? Pancreatic? Liver? Lung?

You can read the rest of it here. Surely P.J. is laughing loudly at the irony. God speed and best wishes for a rapid recovery. Hope you're back on your ass in no time.

Ares

Athena PS: my darling friend Annie, a 23-year survivor of colon cancer (who was given a 20% chance of surviving, by the way) would say PJ needs a brown ribbon. If he had been so lucky as to be diagnosed with colon cancer, she would have dubbed him an honorary member of the Semi-Colon Society. She's a real punster, that one, as well as a gem of a human being.