It’s that time again. I know it’s National Wealth Redistribution Day – otherwise known as Tax Day – but that isn’t what I’m talking about. No, it’s that personal time that I seem to go through roughly every month at which I struggle with writer’s block. This time there seems to be an extra twist to it. You see, just the other night, a Somali pirate attacked me in my bed (they said those international waters were too vast to patrol, but I never believed them until now) and almost managed to scalp me before I chased him away. What he did manage to do was to get away with all of my writing ideas, and I have yet to receive the ransom note (since there are no insurance companies for such things, Achmed will have to contact me personally at my home address). So until I get that note, I am stuck with another case of writer’s block.
I suppose that as long as I have no other ideas, I can discuss Tax Day for a moment after all. But that would force me to include a brief but important and unprecedented disclaimer. The three or four of you who read my blog know that I have never once discussed politics therein. I am not skilled at debating, and I do not like to offend anyone (except perhaps mustachioed and bearded women). Were I to discuss politics, I would offend Republican and Democrat alike, and thus I would be left readerless. Not seeing the point in this, I have deliberately made it so that no reader would be able to guess my political affiliation through a reading of my writing. That may be about to change. Now for the disclaimer – I am about to discuss politics.
I will be as brief as I can on the subject. In fact, I will bypass my normal audience and exercise the boldness to look into the television camera of the mind in order to address just one person from my Ovaltine Office (the Oval Office having already been taken, this name seemed fitting, especially since I enjoy chocolate milk on occasion). Pardon me, networks – your originally-scheduled programs will be back on momentarily. And now for the address.
Mr. President, if you are reading this (which is highly unlikely, but the government has not yet taken away my right to dream), I have something to humbly say to you. It is Tax Day. Millions of Americans are now wading through pages of legalese that they don’t understand in order to pay their taxes at the last possible moment to fund a government that spends money it doesn’t have to begin with. I ask you, Mr. President, to lighten the loads of these helpless millions. Mr. President – tear down this wall between Americans and their hard-earned money; open this gate to prosperity. Cut our taxes at least in half and simplify the tax code. Ask not what the taxpayers can do for you – ask what you can do for the taxpayers. Read my lips – no new taxes!
If I might be so bold, Mr. President, I also have a specific request on behalf of a close friend of mine. If I might be so bold, Mr. President, might I prevail upon you to schedule a White House conference with my friend Mr. Aaron Schutte, who is the most capable man I know in persuading people of the necessity and benefits of abolishing the IRS and enacting the Fair Tax?*
Thus ends my political rant. You may now return to American Idol, 24, Lost, or whatever show the networks were showing before said rant interrupted the evening’s amusement.
And thus ends my attempt to fend off writer’s block and honor the day in one fell swoop. Before I close, however, I will again turn to that television camera of the mind and address my readers, who I notice are in a rather excited state of mind after my speech. To paraphrase my good friend Lyndon Baines Johnson – I shall not seek, and I will not accept, the nomination of my readers for President of the United States.
*Author’s Note: There is some dispute in the land of Facebook as to whether Mr. Aaron Schutte and Fairtax.org are one and the same. This is really a subject for an entirely separate article, and for now I will not wade into that realm.
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