The Obituary Writer- The Sunday Collage

Perhaps we should call them "life summaries'' or some other cutesy name.

I don't know why our culture has a morbid fascination with discovering who among us has recently died. The most simplistic answer, I suppose, is that death is news.

When I speak of our society's morbid curiosity about death, I must include myself. In the past year, I've stood witness to a number of deaths. Often, I find myself looking online at various newspapers trying to locate additional information about the dearly departed. This then brings me to the topic du jour.

Modern day obituaries. Some of the worst, most gawd awful writing that I have ever read. Obituary writers try to condense an entire lifetime into a few hundred words and a couple column inches. And so it is that most obituaries are written as though a life is nothing more than a list of earthly achievements. One last resume' for St. Peter to peruse when deciding who makes it to the promised land.

Modern day obituaries are nothing more than boilerplate ________(insert name here) writing. Obituaries generally omit the cause of death, they chronologically give us a timeline and a list of accomplishments. Maybe they list all those accomplishments, I think, to make the rest of us feel guilty about how little we have done. And then I think, no of course not, obituaries like funerals- are for the living. They never, ever, say anything derogatory about the deceased. It is a feat of disingenuous civility that we extend to nearly everyone it seems. I hesitate to include this here but I think it illustrates the point I am making. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Knut_Hamsun's_obituary_of_Adolf_Hitler

I dislike obituaries because they don't tell the real story. We don't read about the great dreams and disappointments, the ah- ha moments and emotional turning points, the tragedies, the struggle, the successes and failures. The standard obituary reads like a Who's Who entry, shallow and superficial, with all of the real stuff edited out. What kind of man or woman was this person? That question rarely gets answered.

My friend Al died in August of this year. Al struggled with several medical problems, perhaps a little depression and a whole lot of alcoholism. He was a lot of fun to be around in the old days and he was smart. But the only coping mechanism Al could ever find was the one he bought at the liquor store. What a fantastic story that might have been had he managed to overcome his alcoholism- yet it is still a fantastic story because it tells us about the stranglehold that booze has on some of us. It gives us a level of understanding and it educates us. It allows us to make informed decisions about our own lives and understand that some people choose death by drinking. For those who might have missed that post. http://thecivillibertarian.blogspot.com/2014/08/the-liquor-store-loses-one-more.html

On Friday, my Aunt Audrey died. She had a fantastic story as well. I can't tell her story without telling the story of her husband Alan, who is also deceased. My aunt and uncle were truly joined at the hip and devoted to each other- one of the very few great and genuine love stories that I have ever seen.

Audrey was the oldest of my mother's siblings. Audrey, my mother, and the rest of the kids were raised on a farm near Fairview, Montana. Fairview has a population of 800 people or so. Audrey met the love of her life in Fairview, a former valedictorian and college bound man by the name of Alan N. Alan by most accounts, was a genius. Together Audrey and Alan got the hell out of Fairview just as soon as they could because Fairview has never been known as the land of genius or opportunity- unless of course- you wanted to farm sugar beets for the rest of your days.

In the 60's, Alan met and worked as sort of an apprentice for a man named Edward Towe. Towe was a millionaire legend in Montana when I was a kid. Towe was a self styled business entrepreneur- owning and operating a huge number of Montana banks. Towe also owned a giant antique Ford auto collection. Uncle Alan became a business partner of Ed Towe's. http://www.oldcarsweekly.com/news/hobby-news/famous-ford-collector-edward-towe-97-dies Alan began buying banks on his own and soon enough- my Aunt Audrey and Alan were living the American dream. They went from farm kids to millionaires back when a million was just a ton of money.

Those were some of the best years of my life. We all lived in Butte at the time. We were also well acquainted with Evel Knievel and his sons- kids we went to school with. When my cousins showed up with brand new motorcycles, I was green with envy. Butte was a motorcycle town.

When the Anaconda company announced that they were closing the mine around 1975, Butte's economy went to hell and all of our lives were about to change just as dramatically as the fortunes of Butte. As it turns out, I would not see my cousins, or Audrey or Alan, for the next 30 years.

I can't tell you with any level of precision- how many millions Alan and Audrey accumulated or what they were worth at their zenith. They owned all sorts of things- more banks and businesses, a mansion here or there, artwork, the finest cars, European real estate, and they traveled the world. They were an American rags to riches story. In the fairy tale world- their story might have ended right there. But their story was hardly a fairy tale.

When you have a lot of money it is often very difficult to hang onto it. Everyone is after it. Relatives, friends, business partners and competitors, unscrupulous people, lawyers, the IRS.

All those things came calling for Audrey and Alan. By the late 80's and 90's, a couple of bad business decisions, fate and the economy, unscrupulous and greedy "business partners" did what they do- and it left my aunt and uncle broke. Sometimes people can bounce back but that would not be possible this time. My Uncle Alan, the genius, had a bonafide schizophrenic break and never recovered. My Aunt Audrey became his caretaker.

I visited Audrey and Alan near Kansas City in 2005. They were living in a 700 sqf house with one bathroom on Alan's social security. Audrey, always gracious and nice, looked after us. I tried to talk to Alan that day. He stared straight ahead as I spoke- and I found myself repeating what I said to him because I couldn't tell if he had heard me. I left that little house in a state of shock.

Gone were the young, wealthy, and beautiful couple of my childhood. They had been replaced by two worn down bodies living on a subsistence level. I cannot tell you the range of emotions I felt. Shock at seeing them like this- guilt for having waited so long. I can honestly say, it took me a few days to emotionally reconcile all of this. I'm not sure that I ever really have.

Alan died on Oct. 9, 2007. Audrey, an intensely private person, was devoted to Alan to the very end. In sickness or in health. They really were that devoted couple that we all hear about and one day, hope to become. As coincidence would have it- Oct 9, 2007 also happens to be the day that I drank my last drink.

My Aunt Audrey never really recovered after Alan's death. She had a series of falls and mishaps over the past 7 years- shuttled between hospitals and various living situations by my cousin Scott who did his best to take care of her. Audrey was present at my brothers wedding in Colorado this summer. She was in a wheelchair, still drinking, still full of piss and vinegar and teasing me about a range of subjects- knowing precisely what was going on in my life courtesy of all the hours she spent on the phone talking with my mother.

Audrey passed away sometime during the night of Oct 9- a few days ago. The coincidence of that date did not go unnoticed by any of us. Sometime during this week, someone will write an obituary.

My Aunt Audrey was the most polite and gracious person I've ever known. Her class far exceeded her beet farm beginnings. She lived an outrageous life of extremes. Extreme success and everything that goes with that and extreme disappointment- and everything that goes with that. Is it better to have made millions and lost them or never made millions at all? How many times if any- did Audrey just want to throw in the towel after Alan's losses and schizophrenic break? Maybe and most likely, the thought never crossed her mind. I'll never know- I never had the opportunity to ask her.

Sometime this week, I'll go looking for Audrey's obituary in the Sidney Herald. I won't expect any miracles or enlightening moments. Somebody will write a couple of column inches that will never, ever capture the essence of who Audrey really was and the extraordinary life that she led. Her son will blend her ashes with Alan's. That's the way it should be.

You were a class act Audrey. Rest in peace.

Obama On Tragedy (Safe to Post Anywhere Except a Huffpo Comment Thread)

 The teacher asked the president if he would like to lead the discussion
 on the word 'tragedy.' So our illustrious president asked the class for
 an example of a 'tragedy.'

 One little boy stood up and offered: "If my best friend, who lives on a
 farm, is playing in the field and a tractor runs him over and kills him,
 that would be a tragedy."

 "No," said Obama, "that would be an accident."
 
 A little girl raised her hand: "If a school bus carrying 50 children
 drove off a cliff, killing everyone, that would be a tragedy."

"I'm afraid not," explained Obama. "That's what we would call great loss."
 The room went silent. No other child volunteered. Obama searched the room.
"Isn't there someone here who can give me an example of a tragedy?"
 Finally at the back of the room, Little Johnny raised his hand. The
 teacher held her breath. In a quiet voice he said: "If the plane
 carrying you and Mrs. Obama was
 struck by a 'friendly fire' missile and blown to smithereens that would
 be a tragedy."
 
 "Fantastic!" exclaimed Obama. "That's right. And can you tell me why
 that would be a tragedy?"
 
 "Well," says Johnny, "It has to be a tragedy, because it sure as hell
 wouldn't be a great loss... and you can bet your sweet ass it wouldn't
 be an accident either!"

Legalized Thievery (Asset Forfeiture) Very Funny Video Follows

In Idaho, we have a very strong state constitution which does not allow Idaho cops to operate DUI roadblocks/checkpoints. The same holds true for asset forfeitures. In Idaho, you still have some civil rights. Apparently that is not true in other states. This is a very funny video about asset forfeiture.
The Coyote blog is where I found it.

Being Stupid Is Only Hard On the Others- The Sunday Collage

I'm here, still whacking away. My detractors, those flaming liberals from Moonbat Valley, have followed me in here. I don't write for them, I write in spite of them.

Maybe, they think, he will get tired and quit writing. We can always look at Kim Kardashian's cleavage instead. In 20 years, when nobody wants to look at Kim Kardashian's cleavage- maybe I'll still be here. That's what I think.

Six years ago next month, I started the world famous blog, "Frankenstein Government." In the next week or two, I am going to reach a million page views. Although 800,000 of those views are my own, I want to say thank you to the three loyal readers which I have lured in here and who account for the majority of the remaining 200,000 page views.

My friend, the Feral Irishman, had a million hits during his second week of blogging.

I have never won any blog awards. I don't advertise because I don't give a shit about making money and I've only received two advertising offers for 50 bucks a month. I don't put a tip jar or similar device in the margin because I know you bastards are too cheap to donate anything anyway. If the only thing standing between death and myself depended on one of you buying me a ham sandwich- I'd busy myself by getting my affairs in order, divvying up the silver, and selecting a nice copper urn to park my ashes in.

Today, I scrolled through the FG archives. I've written some really awful stuff over the years and I apologize for that. (this may account for my lack of blog awards) I've also received a few nasty comments along the way- many of which I have deleted. Actually, nasty comments have been rare. Despite my complete lack of imagination and writing skills, my affinity for pronouns and dangling participles, and my completely inept editing skills, most people simply leave this blog and never come back. They don't waste their energy writing hateful comments. When those types of hateful comments do show up, I generally think they have arrived from my anti-fan club in Moonbat Valley. This happened once after I had posted a link to my blog from my Facebook page.

Mostly, I think, I am just like my readers. I think we share a lot of similarities.

I paid my dues. I went to college until my money ran out. Back in those days, we didn't have student loans which covered everything and I didn't arrive on the planet with any sort of silver spoon in my mouth. I worked full time jobs in college which started to negatively effect my grades. It all came to a head when optical mineralogy, organic chemistry, and a couple of other nasty classes and labs came calling one semester. I switched gears, went into a year long law enforcement program, and spent the next 24 years as a cop. In 2007, I got divorced. I also "retired" that year. I was still technically on the payroll when I loaded up my Jeep and drove 1700 miles to New Orleans. That's where I repaired my life.

I began writing here one year later in the fall of 2008 after Bush II, Congress, and Hank Paulson stole nearly a trillion dollars from us and gave it to their crony, banker buddies. I was in a state of disbelief. That event spawned this blog. But what it really spawned in me was a non stop thirst for knowledge. I began to read everything I could get my hands on. The unbelievable and crooked origins of the Federal Reserve and the false bank "panics" that preceded that act. Illegal gold seizures by Roosevelt via executive order and any of a 100 or so additional topics from the fraud that was the Gulf of Tonkin and the Vietnam War, to the manipulation of markets by the President's Working Group on Financial Markets, an executive order issued by Godlike figure Ronald Reagan which has essentially destroyed free markets forever or at least until that executive order is rescinded or repealed.

The more you read, the worse it gets. You begin to actually understand how incredibly crooked and corrupt our entire economic system is, how the banks control virtually everything, and you wonder how they are able to conceal all of those manipulations from most of the general population. That's where my 6 year investigation has taken me. The worst part is that you begin to realize just how little you really know and how stupid you've been your entire life. You wonder how it's possible. It's a problem most will never face. Being stupid they say, is only hard on the others.

That all happened to me- right here.

The weirdest part is that I feel incredibly grateful to have taken this blogging journey. Blogging caused me to read and verify sources or find collateral references for all sorts of topics. I've been able to comprehend, condense, and convey all of that information right here. I am not worse because of it. I've interacted with a lot of solid people within the blogging community.

This blog and everything I've written here- will outlive me. It will either be proven essentially correct or it will be dismissed as the ramblings of some neanderthal writer. It doesn't matter to me how that turns out. I am prepared for either eventuality. In the meantime, I'm ok with my efforts here. I got lucky. I found out how stupid I've been on... oh so many levels. The humbling and leveling of one's false, inflated sense of self is never a bad thing. But it is exceedingly rare.

When people are honest with each other, there is a sense of authenticity. Honest writing is authentic writing. People sense that. Authentic communication always wins. It says, "I am real and I don't need anything in exchange for what I write or say." I'm not here selling silver bars in the margins. I've tried to write something here that is valuable and useful. Something that will allow you to emotionally challenge old beliefs and rethink them. Perhaps you will grasp an opportunity and prepare a little bit for the shit storm that is most assuredly headed our way. Maybe you will spend hours researching various topics. Or perhaps you will start your own blog at some point in your life when you can write freely and honestly. Maybe something you write will change a life or cause a spark. God knows, in a blind drunk, you can do a better job than this. Maybe I will find your blog and leave shitty comments on it.

In the meantime,  I believe that one day, they will try to regulate and take away this ability we have to freely communicate. Honest communications have always threatened dishonest people. Free speech bothers and threatens those who lie and obstruct the truth. They don't want you to exchange information. What you don't know- really does hurt you. They know that. Knowledge is power. Find knowledge, find honesty, and communicate those findings as effectively as you can. There is a lot of power within authentic communication.

Don't worry about your your bad writing, your shitty grammar, or your poor choices when it comes to selecting topics to write about. Authentic writing will trump all of that and people will forgive you for being stupid. 

They say, "For everything you know, there was a time when you didn't know it."

Still here and banging away. 

Has It Always Been This Way?- The Sunday Collage

*Update on USAF Tortures Old Civilians. I am currently playing phone tag with Mountain Home AFB. I told them that I would most certainly meet them mano a mano if they'd like. So still no resolution. In the meantime, there is not a chance in hell that I will deliver a Pop Tart to an air base resident. I would rather watch paint dry.

If you need any sort of refresher on just how corrupt our system has become, read this link. If you finish it, in it's entirety, and you are not completely sick to your stomach- you are tougher than me. I spent this afternoon reading the piece and verifying some of the statements. I knew some of them were true. http://www.zerohedge.com/news/2014-09-28/i-am-putting-everything-goldman-sachs-because-these-guys-can-do-whatever-hell-they-w

Without a doubt, 4.5 trillion in stimulus (counterfeiting) found it's way straight into the stock market- that's what has caused the market to triple from the March '09 lows.

Did we pay down debt? Nope- in fact it has gone up 8 trillion. Did we create quality jobs? Nope- the job market was stripped of quality pay, benefits, and jobs were shipped off shore. Did the rule of law get implemented, did the banker crooks go to jail? Nope- the government pretended nothing happened. They haven't even changed accounting standards or filled those vacant properties.

You know those doomsday preppers? The ones people make fun of? They may get the last laugh and that will be the laugh that counts.You might like this vid. I know the compleat patriot will.



I am seriously getting nervous. I have this uneasy feeling- like things are about to go bat shit crazy.

I believe that our economic system is so corrupt from top to bottom that I think it must eventually collapse. I cannot think of any way to fix it other than simply destroying it. How do you pay 18 trillion in debt when allegedly- more people are supposed to be working and paying taxes than ever before- and yet we are still running 1 trillion dollar annual deficits? Our country's citizens are absolutely complacent and apathetic- they have normalcy bias. They just think this is all so much bullshit. Just like all those people did just before the stock market collapsed in 1929.

The difference in 1929 was that our country had the capacity to come back with no debt. Of course they seized our gold and eventually started WWII. So there are those little glitches.

(Btw, have you ever noticed that whenever this country wants to nullify some item in the Bill of Rights, the first tool they use is an executive order? Think gold seizures, Japanese Americans, or the Presidents Working Group on Financial Markets)

What's gonna happen this time and when is it going to happen? I'm not sure and oddly, those doomsday preppers don't seem all that crazy to me anymore. I've been taking a long look at nitrogen packed foods, storage containers, and some defensible ground. Given the circumstances, the next collapse may make 1929 look like a holiday.

What I am struggling with is this. Has our country always been this bad? Have we always been this corrupt and greedy or have I just noticed it during the last 6 years? Or is there a much simpler explanation? As people age, they always seem to think the world is going to hell. That's been my observation. I have never heard an older person say that things are getting better.

Maybe it's a rite of passage. Maybe it's simply my turn.

USAF Torturing Old Civilians *Updated

I like the new title better. Kinda catchy isn't it?

I don't go looking for stupid but sometimes it finds me anyway. Yesterday, was not my finest hour.

The story I'm about to tell you is true. Other than myself, I can't tell you the names of the people involved because (a) I didn't know them or (b) I forgot them. At any rate, I think you'll find this blog amusing. This story is about waiting in lines.

So first up- let me give you my all time, 53 year long, most epic human  meltdown of all time. I thank God Almighty that I was in attendance when this happened.

Many years ago in Moonbat Valley- they built a brand new Albertson's grocery store. The store was very close to my home and I often shopped there. We had a tremendous shortage of qualified workers in our valley back then and a lot of the people that landed jobs at that store...well let's just say they weren't the best or the brightest.

So one evening around 7 PM- I ran down to the store for something. When I arrived at the check stands there were only two lanes open. I landed on the "express lane" which was reserved allegedly, for people purchasing eight items or less.

In line in front of me, was a young couple with two small kids. They had at least 80 items in their cart. Instead of simply taking the items out of the cart- this mom and dad decided instead to let their two children, maybe 4 and 5 years old, empty the cart. Item by painful item. It was agonizingly slow watching the kids climb up onto the cart, bend over, and pick one item up, and climb down again. During this process, a younger man arrived in line behind me- toting a half rack of Coors Light. As we watched the family of morons in front of us, I could tell this guy was getting pissed. He was muttering shit under his breath and making those guttural noises one makes when the blood just starts leaking out of your ears. I too was pissed, but everyone in the community was aware of who I was. It was my job to pretend to remain calm and patient- but I wasn't. I was just as pissed as the guy behind me.

Almost 20 minutes elapsed before this whole operation had arrived at that moment where money and receipts get exchanged. And then it happened- that thing we all fantasize about but never do. The cashier ran out of register tape and had to call for more. That was the ignition switch. The man behind me could not take it any longer. It was, without question, the finest public meltdown that I have ever witnessed. This guy blew like the Kilauea volcano. At 90 decibels...

"Do any of you fuckers read?" "When you see a sign that says 8 items or less, just what the fuck do you think that means?!!!" "Do any of the cashiers in this place pay attention to any of that shit or do you just ignore the sign?" "Can you fuckers count?!!"

He said more things which I can't remember now. In that instant- that man became my hero. He said everything that I have ever wanted to say and then some. The people in the line, the people who caused this, were speechless. They were like sheep frozen in the headlights of an oncoming truck. Had they said one thing, I'm not sure what might have happened. I honestly think they were so enamored with their cute kids that they were completely unconscious and unaware of the world around them.

Yesterday, I became that guy.

I have a part time job driving a truck and delivering heavy freight- things like gun safes, treadmills, giant televisions. Two or three times a month I am forced to deliver freight to the inhabitants of the nearby Mountain Home Air Force Base. I absolutely dread it.

For any of you that have ever stood in an airport's TSA line, TSA has nothing on the USAF. Don't ever think that a mind numbing experience cannot get worse because it can. That was my experience yesterday upon arrival at the base. There are two lanes that arriving trucks line up in. There are two traffic signals. You must wait until the AF personnel give you a green light. You then proceed to the guard shack. You park in front. Before you exit the vehicle, you must open every compartment within the vehicle. You must open all of your doors including your cargo door. Then you go inside. You hand them your ID, you fill out a paper asking you all of the same stuff which they already have on your driver's license, and then you give them the customer's name and phone number which is usually on our delivery receipts. You then sit on your ass for 15 minutes while they laugh and giggle inside their control booth, search your truck, try to call your customer, and they take their sweet time doing all of this. When they are done, they hand you back your documents, another document they generate with your picture on it which I have never found a discernible purpose for- and they give you a yellow, laminated card. You then go out and close all of your doors and proceed to a second guard shack, where you hand over the laminated card. Oddly, they do not ask you to utter a secret password which serves the same purpose as the laminated card. If all goes well, you can make it through this process in 15 minutes. It annoys the hell out of me because it could be easily streamlined- but I go through it because you have to. The people working the guard shack have zero people skills, They treat people like sheep.

Yesterday, I arrived at the lights at 1125 a.m. There were trucks everywhere, backed up to a chain link fence outside the base perimeter. Nothing was moving. About every 25 minutes, they let 4 trucks through. I was desperately trying to call my customer to arrange an off base pickup while trying not to get mired in the line without being able to get out. The customer failed to answer his phone although we had set up an at home delivery time between 11 and 1 PM and he should have been there answering his phone. I called 4 or 5 times. After about 45 minutes, I struck up a conversation with a fellow trucker next to me. He said the wait was ridiculous but he gets paid by the hour. Therein lies the dilemma. If people don't care, because they get theirs, why would they say anything? They don't. It's like a giant herd of sheep driving trucks- all afraid to say something perhaps even worried about heaven forbid- losing their crappy jobs driving trucks.

I waited 1 hour and 50 minutes. At a quarter after one, I finally made it to the guard shack. I have to be honest- my ass was on fire. The kid behind the desk asked me how I was doing. I had to bite my tongue. I did everything required of me and I sat down. There were three other truckers in the waiting area with me. One kid told me I needed a front plate on the truck as though that was somehow my fault and responsibility or that I needed a traffic law refresher from a kid whose responsibility does not have anything to do with enforcing state law. I managed to say, "ok." What I am trying to convey here is that I was doing everything humanly possible within myself to keep from exploding. Then it happened.

A stocky guy in a uniform emerged from the office and told me that they could not get a hold of my customer by phone. I said I understood that- I had been trying to get a hold of him for 2 hours while waiting in line. I explained that I just wanted to go to his house, see if he was home, and then depart. That's when this guy (Mr Tactful) said you are not getting on the base. This happened after 2 hours and 5 minutes of waiting.

I blew up. Blood began gushing from my ears in some primitive response to assholes who have made me wait 2 hours for nothing and who now intend on forcing me to continue the exercise. I told this guy that "I am not waiting one more fucking minute." "If you aren't going to let me on the base then just give me my fucking shit back right now!" "I am not waiting all day in this place." "I told them that a 2 hour wait was outrageous and unacceptable- and that I would be contacting their commanding officer." Mr. Tactful said "Go ahead- we want you to." I don't remember what else I may or may not have said. When I get angry- my memory shuts off as my brain shunts all blood flow from the important judgment and memory centers of my brain and sends it to that part of my brain that controls the, "beat the shit out of these smug assholes" part of my brain.

As I left- driving past all of the waiting truckers dying of old age in line- I flipped the place off. At least one trucker, outside his truck, cheered and clapped. My only hope is that I started a rebellion although I'm sure that is only a fantasy.

I spent the rest of the day and one cell phone battery trying to find phone numbers and call commanding officers. Oddly, no one wanted to cooperate with my efforts nor did the phone numbers I was given have anyone answering them. Last night, I filed an online complaint. Tomorrow sans an explanation or phone call today, I am going to jump on my motorcycle, drive 50 miles, and find someone to lay into. They motivate me.

I paid my dues. For 25 years, I pushed a patrol car around and wrestled drug crazed lunatics, delivered death messages, rounded up stolen property, and nearly got shot a few times. I understood the meaning of public service, of treating people decently, and I believe that the 4th amendment was never intended to be a suggestion. It prohibits unreasonable searches and seizures and that includes detaining people well beyond what is necessary or morally right. Or reasonable.

How we let these people bastardize and treat our Constitution like it is some old, ancient, and worn out suggestion rather than the law of the land- beats the hell out of me. The people violating our rights are the same people who we charge to defend them. Maybe they need a refresher course in civics. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Civics

I am not particularly proud of the way I acted yesterday. I prefer treating people decently although I gotta be honest here- I am not exactly brimming with guilt either.

If the USAF is so afraid of a retired 53 year old law enforcer smuggling bombs onto the AF base- then maybe they should just call every non essential delivery "off limits" and discontinue the practice altogether.

So that's how it is. In the spirit of fair play- I think it's only proper that I return the favor. I've tabbed Thursday for part deux, I'll let you know how that goes.

*Update. I received this reply to my email complaint yesterday. You can damn sure bet I'll be calling that phone number.


Sir,

We sincerely apologize for the 2 hour and 5 min wait at Grandview gate. In
our opinion the best course of action for you is to contact the 366th
Fighter Wing commander's hotline at  (208) 828- 1362 and relay the entire
situation. This hotline is your direct line to voice your concerns. It's
your opportunity to make Mountain Home Air Force Base a better place to live
and work.

Sincerely,
366th Fighter Wing Public Affairs
Comm: (208) 828-6800; DSN: 728-6800 

I'll Leave the Front Door Open For You- The Sunday Collage

Look, I know reading about taxes is boringgg. Most people can't do it. However, this is Frankenstein Government. They pay me to fashion articles which are funny and insightful. That's how I know that my regular readers will carry on here in a determined fashion.

The new tax season begins just after this year's election cycle ends. Odd how that works, isn't it? Nobody is really paying attention now to the 2014 tax law changes- but they will. These tax changes are going to be painful and effect nearly all of us.

The great, uninformed masses who wave itty bitty flags, shout USA, USA, and think they are great patriots- will dutifully march to the election polls in a few months and re-elect incumbent Congressmen. They have been doing this at a rate exceeding 90% for as long as I have been alive. They do this no matter how bad Congress sucks. They will receive a little sticker with a flag on it that says "I voted." (That's what they do here) They will be proud of themselves.

Then the zombie voters can stumble through their day beaming like grand patriots- as us enlightened types (FG readers) realize that we have just received another two years worth of tax sodomy thanks to the zombie majority. This is what Adams and Jefferson envisioned?

Those about to be re-elected Congressmen are the same Congressmen that stole trillions of dollars from the national treasury, the same Congressmen that voted Obamacare without even reading it, the same Congressmen who vote themselves giant raises and benefit packages, and they are indeed the same ones responsible for tax laws. Congress writes tax laws.

This year, Congress let several tax "breaks" expire. (I use quotation marks because those "tax breaks" should not have been taxable items to begin with)

In the 1700's, colonists revolted over a paltry 3% tax to the King. "No taxation without representation" was the phrase every one of us was taught in our government grade schools.

Today, my Idaho state sales tax is 6%- twice that amount.

My state tax is generally around 5% of my income. My property tax adds another 3% and the Feds generally get me for around 10% after everything is adjusted. Throw in nearly .50 a gallon for gas tax and all in all- I believe I lose about 25% of my net income per year to those taxes.

I don't want to cover government's force placed insurance programs which I consider to be nothing more than an additional tax- and in the case of our Supreme Court and Obamacare- they indeed  agree that it is a tax. For me that tax amounts to 8 grand. That is 500 a mo. in unsubsidized premiums x 12 months plus a 2k deductible before anyone other than me pays a cent. Good deal for someone...else.

I am going to use first person here because I have no idea how bad your tax situation is about to become. This is how it's looking for me.

This year will be the first year I will have to pay the penalty for failing to sign up for Obamacare. Most of us will pay 1% of our annual adjusted gross income. In my case, I just lost another 400 bucks or 1%. Oh, by the way...this tax goes up to 2.5% in following years.

Also set to expire this year are deductions for state taxes. So not only do your assets get seized by the state that you live in- but they are no longer federally tax deductible. That means I have an additional 2000 dollars subject to federal tax. That should cost me another 300 bucks.

Last but not least, the government force places personal mortgage insurance (PMI) on all of their FMA home loans. It is really just a tax. It costs me 1200 a year. This year, PMI is no longer tax deductible. So once again, not only does the government seize my money to insure someone else's investment interests- but I have to pay taxes on money that was seized from me despite the fact that I never had it to begin with. The corporate pirates of America dream of laws like this where they can simply seize YOUR assets to insure against THEIR potential losses. Who doesn't dream of a guaranteed, paid for by someone else, income stream? The American aristocracy does- that's for sure.

Anyway, that's going to cost me another 100-200 bucks in taxes.

Therefore at the very minimum this year, I just lost another 1000 dollars. (I am throwing in a higher tax bracket since my adjustments will be less)

You want to know what really frosts my backside? The people that will go out and re-elect these miscreants to Congress. Many have no skin in the game. They get free healthcare thanks to Obamacare, 47 million get food stamps, and oddly- that guy that pays for their food stamps and their healthcare- cannot afford healthcare for himself.

I'm out of money. Why don't you people just come over and steal some stuff out of my home instead? At least I can get a deduction for casualty and theft losses. They haven't gotten rid of that deduction yet. Just make sure you do it before Dec. 31. I'll leave the front door open for you.

Additional pain for you can be found here: http://money.msn.com/taxes/7-sneaky-tax-changes-for-2014-1

And here: http://www.foxbusiness.com/personal-finance/2014/03/26/key-tax-changes-for-2014-and-beyond/