I know it's been a while since my last post, but I've been busy moving and
working and raising children. For some of you, my words are an integral part of
your lives; as essential as the air you breathe; as necessary as the pickle
that accompanies your deli sandwich. I want you to know that I am aware of
this.
So to observe those that have spent the last three months yearning for another
blog post from yours truly, and to recognize the fact that I am aware of that
yearning, I hereby deem the month of April to be Awareness Month Awareness
Month from now henceforth until the end of time. We will forevermore use
the month of April to celebrate, commemorate, and acknowledge all the other
months that we are bombarded with things to celebrate, commemorate, and
acknowledge.
Let's start with April. Besides being Awareness Month Awareness Month, April
is also Mathematics Awareness Month, where we acknowledge that math
exists, and Child Abuse Awareness and Prevention Month, where not only
do we acknowledge the people that abuse children, but we also refrain from
abusing our own children until May. Let us not forget it is Sexual Assault
Awareness Month and Rape Prevention Month. These clearly go hand in
hand. I heard recently that the most effective way to avoid being raped is to
crap yourself. In April we are aware of Parkinson's Disease,
Autism, Asperger's Syndrome, Diabetes, and recognize that some people have
STD's, Developmental Disabilities, an Appreciation for Jazz, and my favorite,
Drive While Distracted.
In May, we celebrate the heritages of South Asians (don't even think about
North Asians in May), Haitians, Jews, and those from the Asian Pacific. Amongst
other things, we celebrate bicycles, pets, and foster care; we are aware of ALS
(only in the US, though; Canadians celebrate this in June), asthma, celiac
disease, and neurofibromatosis.
June is for adopting cats, hip-hop and those of Caribbean descent. It is also LGBT
Pride Month, where we celebrate and take pride in men that have sex with other
men, women that have sex with other women, men and women that have sex with men
and women, and men and women that identify themselves as women and men - I'm
not sure who they have sex with though.
We eat tacos and hot dogs in July, and then dance it off.
August is kind of a downer. We give a special nod to people with amblyopia
and cataracts, although they probably can't see it, and a pat on the back to
those with spinal muscular atrophy and psoriasis. Also don't forget that there
are millions of immunizations available, and you should get every single one of
them. Enjoy August because you will likely have the flu in September.
In September, while suffering through whatever sickness you've come down
with as a result of intentionally injecting yourselves with said sickness, we
recognize National Preparedness Month. This is where FEMA encourages us to
prepare ourselves for a catastrophic state of emergency because the government
is incapable of responding to them. But I really don't feel we need to observe
this every year. Every four years in November would be sufficient. Oh, and just
about every Central American country celebrates their independence in
September, which somehow lead to an influx of immigrants to the U.S. and the
need to establish Hispanic Heritage Month.
October is a biggie. We feel sorry for battered women while simultaneously
spending a lot of time talking about their breasts. We also strive to end
bullying by making our sons whiny little girls, and we remember the struggles,
strife, and civil rights violations that homosexual and transgender Americans
have endured at the hands of whitey. Not to be outdone by the segregation,
humiliation, beatings, and murders of blacks in the early- to mid-1900's,
homosexuals have been called names...and...and have been called
names...sometimes...by...mean people...
November is NaNoWriMo! The whole nation writes a novel! Right? I kind of
just stare at the screen wondering why I thought anyone would waNT TO READ THIS
CRAP! Then I rant and drink beer and yell at my kids and come back to what I
was writing and think, hey, this isn't so bad, but then I sober up and read it
again and wonder wHY I THOUGHT ANYONE WOULD WANT TO READ THIS CRAP! I love
NaNoWriMo.
December is Political Correctness Awareness Month, when the retards in the
media tell us what we are and aren't allowed to say, and I organize my annual
Smear the Queer tournament. It's also Safe Toys and Gifts Awareness Month because
every kid should wear a helmet inside while reading and doing puzzles.
January is Glaucoma Awareness Month, also known as "Smoke It If You Got
It Month". We are made aware that there is poverty in America, while
somewhere in the Middle East our charitable leaders are giving billions to
countries that want to kill us. It's also Personal Self-Defense Awareness
Month, unless you are at a school, university, courthouse, somewhere that
serves alcohol, or serving in your neighborhood watch. Or really anywhere else
the government decides they don't want you carrying the firearm you have every
right to be carrying.
We all know what February is, and everything else falls to the wayside (though
I still recommend you spay and neuter your animals). This is the time to
celebrate our black brothers and sisters. They have endured more hardships than
any other minority in our great nation, though only slightly more than the LGBT
community. It's also Ethnic Equality Month, but who are we kidding. Everyone
knows black guys make better athletes, and they are almost always showers, not
growers.
And finally we get to March, and honestly, it's kind of a let down. I guess
someone, somewhere gives a flying flip about celery, crafts, essential tremors
(whatever those are), and peanuts. I do, however, enjoy frozen foods. I also
think it's important to commemorate women's history, where we will inevitably
hear about Hilary Clinton's achievements, all accomplished with absolutely zero
help from her husband *Ahem*. The only thing that makes March bearable is the
celebration of the Irish. I love Irish people. And I love drinking beers.
So I hope you'll all join me this year by taking part in Awareness Month
Awareness Month. I see no reason why we can't celebrate, commemorate,
contemplate, and commiserate any of the above each and every April. Just don't
spend too much time pretending to be Irishmen with glaucoma.
I love you all, be excellent to each other, and all will be well, and all
will be well, and all manner of things shall be well.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
A Scientific Approach to Understanding Gender Differences
Problem: Communication between male and female counterparts appears strained and often times non-existent.
Hypothesis: Lack of communication is due to a difference in male and female thought processes.
Case Study: A random couple was given such-and-such-an-item as a Christmas gift. A picture of the item was presented in lieu of the actual item because it had yet to be ordered. About a week goes by and the husband asks his wife if such-and-such-an-item is being delivered to their house. She says, "Yes."
Two more weeks go by and the item has yet to arrive, so the husband inquires of his wife as to the item's whereabouts. She replies that she has not ordered it because she hadn't yet picked which style of such-and-such-an-item she wanted.
Results: The husband is at first confused. "You said it was on the way," he accuses his wife. "No, you asked if it was being delivered here, and I said it was," the wife says. "But it can't be delivered here unless you order it," the husband refutes. "You didn't ask if I ordered it," the wife says. And so on, until the man becomes angry and the woman begins to cry.
Analysis: The husband assumed that such-and-such-an-item had been ordered because if something is to be delivered somewhere, someone would have had to order it first. Not to mention the word "being", as in "is the item being delivered here", implies the present tense. The wife does not entertain such assumptions. She believes her answer implied that IF such-and-such-an-item were to be ordered, it would be delivered to the house. The fact that a picture of the item to be ordered was shown to the husband, along with the failure to mention the task of choosing the "style" of the item, has been utterly disregarded.
Conclusion One: Women are illogical. This may come as a shock to women, but that shouldn't be surprising. After all, crazy people don't think they're crazy. The ability to make a connection between two correlating subjects (e.g. order and delivery) is apparently not something that God endowed the female gender with. So when asking a woman a question, a man may not assume anything. Regardless of how blatant or obvious an assumption may be to a man, it is very likely that the woman has not made, nor do they care to make, the same assumption. In addition, the woman does not need to be right in order to win an argument.
Conclusion Two: Men are assholes. This does not come as a shock to most women. Nor does this fact elude most men. This is why the man ends up apologizing to the woman after a fight. It's because he acted like a complete douche bag, even though he probably started off on the correct side of the issue. Furthermore, making the woman cry automatically disqualifies the man from any victory that may have been within his grasp.
Final Conclusion: The hypothesis seems correct. Lack of communication between male and female counterparts is indeed due to a difference in thought processes. It should also be noted that it is pointless for a man to enter into an argument with a woman who has the tendency to cry. Estrogen trumps testosterone every time...unless you're a wife-beater. And in that case, you'll likely end up in jail or missing a penis, so the woman still wins.
Hypothesis: Lack of communication is due to a difference in male and female thought processes.
Case Study: A random couple was given such-and-such-an-item as a Christmas gift. A picture of the item was presented in lieu of the actual item because it had yet to be ordered. About a week goes by and the husband asks his wife if such-and-such-an-item is being delivered to their house. She says, "Yes."
Two more weeks go by and the item has yet to arrive, so the husband inquires of his wife as to the item's whereabouts. She replies that she has not ordered it because she hadn't yet picked which style of such-and-such-an-item she wanted.
Results: The husband is at first confused. "You said it was on the way," he accuses his wife. "No, you asked if it was being delivered here, and I said it was," the wife says. "But it can't be delivered here unless you order it," the husband refutes. "You didn't ask if I ordered it," the wife says. And so on, until the man becomes angry and the woman begins to cry.
Analysis: The husband assumed that such-and-such-an-item had been ordered because if something is to be delivered somewhere, someone would have had to order it first. Not to mention the word "being", as in "is the item being delivered here", implies the present tense. The wife does not entertain such assumptions. She believes her answer implied that IF such-and-such-an-item were to be ordered, it would be delivered to the house. The fact that a picture of the item to be ordered was shown to the husband, along with the failure to mention the task of choosing the "style" of the item, has been utterly disregarded.
Conclusion One: Women are illogical. This may come as a shock to women, but that shouldn't be surprising. After all, crazy people don't think they're crazy. The ability to make a connection between two correlating subjects (e.g. order and delivery) is apparently not something that God endowed the female gender with. So when asking a woman a question, a man may not assume anything. Regardless of how blatant or obvious an assumption may be to a man, it is very likely that the woman has not made, nor do they care to make, the same assumption. In addition, the woman does not need to be right in order to win an argument.
Conclusion Two: Men are assholes. This does not come as a shock to most women. Nor does this fact elude most men. This is why the man ends up apologizing to the woman after a fight. It's because he acted like a complete douche bag, even though he probably started off on the correct side of the issue. Furthermore, making the woman cry automatically disqualifies the man from any victory that may have been within his grasp.
Final Conclusion: The hypothesis seems correct. Lack of communication between male and female counterparts is indeed due to a difference in thought processes. It should also be noted that it is pointless for a man to enter into an argument with a woman who has the tendency to cry. Estrogen trumps testosterone every time...unless you're a wife-beater. And in that case, you'll likely end up in jail or missing a penis, so the woman still wins.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Life of Ryan
Ugh, 6:30 in the morning sucks, and doing it every day is worse. I literally roll off my bed onto my hands and knees and groan at the indecency of it all. I trudge to the bathroom, nearly tripping over my son who is passed out at the foot of the bed, and make it to the bathroom relatively unscathed. The shower heats up while I brush my teeth (I loathe brushing my teeth, but I know people appreciate it), then step into the spraying stench of well-water. I wash, I dry off, and quickly cover myself as my daughter traipses in to brush her teeth. Why she can't do this in her own bathroom is beyond me. And why she can't get it through her noggin that little girls aren't allowed to see their daddy naked is even more of a conundrum.
I comb Declan's hair, and then I brush my own. I figure more hair stays on the brush nowadays than remains on my head. I've made peace with it, though I'm not quite ready to buzz it. I'll leave it to my wife to tell me when I should make that leap.
My closet contains about twenty shirts, three of which I like, and two pairs of pants. It doesn't really matter which ones I grab because they all match. I only wear blue, grey, and black. I do, however, spend a second to decide on which belt and shoes to wear. Brown or black. Brown doesn't go with black, so if I'm wearing black I don't choose brown. Hey, that's a pretty good tongue twister...I bet Riley will like it.
I see my wife for 2.5 seconds while pouring coffee into my gigantic travel mug. Then I'm out the door with two of the three kids. I backtrack ten minutes to take Riley to school then drop Declan off at Preschool, which is a relief to my ears and head since he has yacked the entire way about God knows what. He reminds me of my brother. I remember taking a hunting trip to NC a few years back. He rambled incessantly for the first few hours until I fell asleep. When I woke up again my brother was still talking and I'm pretty sure it was about the same thing he was talking about before I passed out.
If you ask Riley what I do at work, she'll say, "Typie, typie." She's really not that far off, so I'll leave it at that. I also smoke a lot and check my email. Whadaya know, another agent rejecting my manuscript. Oh well, I have dozens more feelers out there, maybe the next one will be different.
My mom's at the house with the kids when I get home, and I attempt to spend some quality time with them while simultaneously throwing dinner together (the first thing Reagan says when I walk in the door is, "I eat now?"). Kristin works til 9:00, and I says to myself, "Self, you're not nearly as good at this as your wife is."
Both Riley and Declan are supposed to read a book before going to bed, which is nearly impossible with a two-year-old running around the house and a hyper dog yelping at her heels. Then they need a drink of water, then Reagan has to poop, then Riley can't find her beebee (blanket), then Declan is crying because he somehow bonked his head on the bed rail while he was alone in his room, and on and on for about half an hour.
Finally, I have a much needed cigarette. Tonight I have a beer or two or three as well, and play Call of Duty until my wife gets home. We have time to watch one TV show together before going to bed, too tired for sex mind you, and we prepare to do it all over again tomorrow.
Why do I tell you all this? If you notice, every paragraph includes my kids except the last one, and that's because they're supposed to be sleeping. My world revolves around them, and although I'm tired and frustrated more often than not, the fact remains that they are the reason I roll off the bed every morning. They're why I go to sleep exhausted every night. It's not always fun, but it is always necessary. It took me a little while to realize that. And after I did, even the hard stuff, the I-want-to-blow-my-brains-out-right-now stuff, became endurable.
I comb Declan's hair, and then I brush my own. I figure more hair stays on the brush nowadays than remains on my head. I've made peace with it, though I'm not quite ready to buzz it. I'll leave it to my wife to tell me when I should make that leap.
My closet contains about twenty shirts, three of which I like, and two pairs of pants. It doesn't really matter which ones I grab because they all match. I only wear blue, grey, and black. I do, however, spend a second to decide on which belt and shoes to wear. Brown or black. Brown doesn't go with black, so if I'm wearing black I don't choose brown. Hey, that's a pretty good tongue twister...I bet Riley will like it.
I see my wife for 2.5 seconds while pouring coffee into my gigantic travel mug. Then I'm out the door with two of the three kids. I backtrack ten minutes to take Riley to school then drop Declan off at Preschool, which is a relief to my ears and head since he has yacked the entire way about God knows what. He reminds me of my brother. I remember taking a hunting trip to NC a few years back. He rambled incessantly for the first few hours until I fell asleep. When I woke up again my brother was still talking and I'm pretty sure it was about the same thing he was talking about before I passed out.
If you ask Riley what I do at work, she'll say, "Typie, typie." She's really not that far off, so I'll leave it at that. I also smoke a lot and check my email. Whadaya know, another agent rejecting my manuscript. Oh well, I have dozens more feelers out there, maybe the next one will be different.
My mom's at the house with the kids when I get home, and I attempt to spend some quality time with them while simultaneously throwing dinner together (the first thing Reagan says when I walk in the door is, "I eat now?"). Kristin works til 9:00, and I says to myself, "Self, you're not nearly as good at this as your wife is."
Both Riley and Declan are supposed to read a book before going to bed, which is nearly impossible with a two-year-old running around the house and a hyper dog yelping at her heels. Then they need a drink of water, then Reagan has to poop, then Riley can't find her beebee (blanket), then Declan is crying because he somehow bonked his head on the bed rail while he was alone in his room, and on and on for about half an hour.
Finally, I have a much needed cigarette. Tonight I have a beer or two or three as well, and play Call of Duty until my wife gets home. We have time to watch one TV show together before going to bed, too tired for sex mind you, and we prepare to do it all over again tomorrow.
Why do I tell you all this? If you notice, every paragraph includes my kids except the last one, and that's because they're supposed to be sleeping. My world revolves around them, and although I'm tired and frustrated more often than not, the fact remains that they are the reason I roll off the bed every morning. They're why I go to sleep exhausted every night. It's not always fun, but it is always necessary. It took me a little while to realize that. And after I did, even the hard stuff, the I-want-to-blow-my-brains-out-right-now stuff, became endurable.
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
The Snatcher
Hi All. It's been a while since my last post, but I hesitate to apologize because I do this in my free time, which is growing more and more infrequent. So...I'm sorry...and I'm not...and I've now gone cross-eyed.
In the spirit of not having much time to update my blog lately, I have decided to dedicate this post to my most recent published work, titled The Snatcher. I think it is rather excellent, but then again I'm pretty biased when it comes to how awesome my stuff is.
So without further ado, in conjunction with the most esteemed e-mag Microhorror.com, I present my very short story The Snatcher.
Click here to read it.
In the spirit of not having much time to update my blog lately, I have decided to dedicate this post to my most recent published work, titled The Snatcher. I think it is rather excellent, but then again I'm pretty biased when it comes to how awesome my stuff is.
So without further ado, in conjunction with the most esteemed e-mag Microhorror.com, I present my very short story The Snatcher.
Click here to read it.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
All Manner of Things
Last week, a warm and fuzzy little milestone was reached. My blog exceeded 1,000 views --pauses for applause-- So in honor of myself and my awesome blog, I have decided not to post anything this week.
Except posting that I'm not posting is indeed posting. And since I'm already logged on and everything I might as well make it worth the while. Therefore, in celebration of this blog, the following nuggets of nonsense conform to neither rhyme nor reason and can only be described as all manners of things.
I believe the phrase is actually "all manner of things", but that name was already taken so I added the "s" to "manner".
If you are not aware that you should walk against the traffic and ride your bike with the traffic, you should not be walking or riding your bike anywhere.
Each day after I drop my daughter off at school, I drive away absolutely surprised that no one got run over and completely stunned at how stupid people are.
I'm pretty sure every character in The Walking Dead would have been zombies by late-Season 1. You can only wear tank-tops, no gloves, no eye protection, and no masks for so long before all that zombie blood-splatter gets into your open wounds, eyes, nose, and mouth. That being said, it's still the best show on TV.
Honey is the nectar of the gods, and mead is the best thing you can make honey into.
I sometimes wish my kids would disappear so that I can get some work done (play video games), but when they're gone I get really bored.
I will never understand how the outcome of a sporting event can actually affect someone's mood.
If you embrace personal freedom, but support significant government control over the economy, you are not a liberal. You're extremely confused.
For some reason, I whistle Dixie at least three times a day.
If you can put on make-up, text, smoke, and sing, all while driving, then you will likely add "kill someone" to the list one day.
When do you think incest became taboo? How many people had to be alive on the earth before it was deemed inappropriate to marry your sister? I imagine the first two people accused of incest were pretty confused, and the first people that accused someone of incest were the biggest hypocrites of all time.
It's not cheating until you're married.
I enjoy flicking my kids in the head. It makes a satisfying hollow thump sound.
Do not be defined by your job, race, political status, or sexual orientation. To do so makes you a slave to that attribute, and bondage is never easily broken. Instead, be defined by your character, beliefs, and relationships. These are the things that great people are remembered for. Stand for what is right. I'll do the same, and together we can weather all manner of things.
Except posting that I'm not posting is indeed posting. And since I'm already logged on and everything I might as well make it worth the while. Therefore, in celebration of this blog, the following nuggets of nonsense conform to neither rhyme nor reason and can only be described as all manners of things.
I believe the phrase is actually "all manner of things", but that name was already taken so I added the "s" to "manner".
If you are not aware that you should walk against the traffic and ride your bike with the traffic, you should not be walking or riding your bike anywhere.
Each day after I drop my daughter off at school, I drive away absolutely surprised that no one got run over and completely stunned at how stupid people are.
I'm pretty sure every character in The Walking Dead would have been zombies by late-Season 1. You can only wear tank-tops, no gloves, no eye protection, and no masks for so long before all that zombie blood-splatter gets into your open wounds, eyes, nose, and mouth. That being said, it's still the best show on TV.
Honey is the nectar of the gods, and mead is the best thing you can make honey into.
I sometimes wish my kids would disappear so that I can get some work done (play video games), but when they're gone I get really bored.
I will never understand how the outcome of a sporting event can actually affect someone's mood.
If you embrace personal freedom, but support significant government control over the economy, you are not a liberal. You're extremely confused.
For some reason, I whistle Dixie at least three times a day.
If you can put on make-up, text, smoke, and sing, all while driving, then you will likely add "kill someone" to the list one day.
When do you think incest became taboo? How many people had to be alive on the earth before it was deemed inappropriate to marry your sister? I imagine the first two people accused of incest were pretty confused, and the first people that accused someone of incest were the biggest hypocrites of all time.
It's not cheating until you're married.
I enjoy flicking my kids in the head. It makes a satisfying hollow thump sound.
Do not be defined by your job, race, political status, or sexual orientation. To do so makes you a slave to that attribute, and bondage is never easily broken. Instead, be defined by your character, beliefs, and relationships. These are the things that great people are remembered for. Stand for what is right. I'll do the same, and together we can weather all manner of things.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
It's Good To Be The King
The subject of taxation came up at work the other day, and as usual, it got me all riled up. Which isn't very hard to do. If you know me, you know that I can get a bit excited about certain issues. And this happens to be one of them. This particular person actually thinks that he owns his home! Imagine that...owning something you've paid for! Here's how the conversation went:
Me: "So you paid your house off?"
Him: "Yep, I'm free and clear. I finally own it instead of the bank."
I chuckle. "Really? You own it now?"
Him: "Yeah, of course. I don't have a mortgage anymore."
Me: "What about the taxes you still have to pay on it?"
He shrugs. "What about them? I still own the house."
Me: "I wonder who would own your house if you chose not to pay your property taxes."
His eyebrows rose at that. Apparently, he hadn't thought of that before. And I do realize I was being a downer by bringing this up to him after he was so excited about paying his house off. But the issue of property taxes--and taxes in general--is a very hot topic right now.
In the middle ages, a king or lord would levy a property tax on the people they ruled over. If you "owned" land, you paid a tax on it. Well last I heard, we lived in a republic represented by the people. We're not in a fiefdom here. We don't pay tribute to a king. So why are we subjected to such a feudal system of taxation? I understand paying taxes on the things you purchase, houses and property included, but once you've paid something off you should own it.
Obviously, property taxes are used to fund certain public services such as schools, libraries, fire and public safety departments, and parks. Some of these are are important, some are not (i.e. public libraries). How many people actually go to the library anymore? And for those of you that said, "I do!" how many of you have actually checked out a book instead of renting a movie or video game? How about police departments? I live in Palm Bay, FL, and it seems the only thing Palm Bay cops do is write tickets. They sure as hell don't respond to emergency calls in a timely manner. So basically tax payers in my city pay to be cited for traffic violations. Not saying police aren't important, just saying they should remember who pays their salaries and quit being douche bags.
The reach of the government has become so long that people cannot even practice their profession without paying to do so. My wife is a cosmetologist, and each year she is required to pay a license fee in order to legally practice a vocation she has already gone to school for. Seriously? Twenty years ago, anyone could be a barber. Just open a shop and start cutting hair. If you didn't like your haircut, you didn't go back to that barber. Seems pretty reasonable to me. This applies to all businesses and professions. Why should you have to apply for an occupational license in order to open a business? What business is it of the government? Do you know how many small businesses close their doors for no other reason than they cannot deal with the hoops the government makes them jump through just to stay open?
So how do we pay for these services if we don't pay perpetual property taxes? The answer is simple really: FAIR TAX. A low to non-existent federal income tax coupled with a much higher sales tax. Simplify the tax code, terminate the IRS, incentivize small business and investors. The economy grows, so do tax revenues. Cut spending on frivolous nonsense. Keep what is needed, get rid of what isn't. The city doesn't need another multi-million dollar park. It doesn't need another street light in front of Calvary Chapel (especially when they have off-duty police directing traffic and making me late for service at the church I have to pass Calvary to get to).
There's an election coming up. Vote accordingly! We fought a revolution to get away from a tyrant king and his taxes. And although it may be extremely good to be the king, the fact remains we don't have one. No matter what our esteemed Commander and Chief thinks of himself.
Me: "So you paid your house off?"
Him: "Yep, I'm free and clear. I finally own it instead of the bank."
I chuckle. "Really? You own it now?"
Him: "Yeah, of course. I don't have a mortgage anymore."
Me: "What about the taxes you still have to pay on it?"
He shrugs. "What about them? I still own the house."
Me: "I wonder who would own your house if you chose not to pay your property taxes."
His eyebrows rose at that. Apparently, he hadn't thought of that before. And I do realize I was being a downer by bringing this up to him after he was so excited about paying his house off. But the issue of property taxes--and taxes in general--is a very hot topic right now.
In the middle ages, a king or lord would levy a property tax on the people they ruled over. If you "owned" land, you paid a tax on it. Well last I heard, we lived in a republic represented by the people. We're not in a fiefdom here. We don't pay tribute to a king. So why are we subjected to such a feudal system of taxation? I understand paying taxes on the things you purchase, houses and property included, but once you've paid something off you should own it.
Obviously, property taxes are used to fund certain public services such as schools, libraries, fire and public safety departments, and parks. Some of these are are important, some are not (i.e. public libraries). How many people actually go to the library anymore? And for those of you that said, "I do!" how many of you have actually checked out a book instead of renting a movie or video game? How about police departments? I live in Palm Bay, FL, and it seems the only thing Palm Bay cops do is write tickets. They sure as hell don't respond to emergency calls in a timely manner. So basically tax payers in my city pay to be cited for traffic violations. Not saying police aren't important, just saying they should remember who pays their salaries and quit being douche bags.
The reach of the government has become so long that people cannot even practice their profession without paying to do so. My wife is a cosmetologist, and each year she is required to pay a license fee in order to legally practice a vocation she has already gone to school for. Seriously? Twenty years ago, anyone could be a barber. Just open a shop and start cutting hair. If you didn't like your haircut, you didn't go back to that barber. Seems pretty reasonable to me. This applies to all businesses and professions. Why should you have to apply for an occupational license in order to open a business? What business is it of the government? Do you know how many small businesses close their doors for no other reason than they cannot deal with the hoops the government makes them jump through just to stay open?
So how do we pay for these services if we don't pay perpetual property taxes? The answer is simple really: FAIR TAX. A low to non-existent federal income tax coupled with a much higher sales tax. Simplify the tax code, terminate the IRS, incentivize small business and investors. The economy grows, so do tax revenues. Cut spending on frivolous nonsense. Keep what is needed, get rid of what isn't. The city doesn't need another multi-million dollar park. It doesn't need another street light in front of Calvary Chapel (especially when they have off-duty police directing traffic and making me late for service at the church I have to pass Calvary to get to).
There's an election coming up. Vote accordingly! We fought a revolution to get away from a tyrant king and his taxes. And although it may be extremely good to be the king, the fact remains we don't have one. No matter what our esteemed Commander and Chief thinks of himself.
Saturday, October 6, 2012
The Sign Said Only Long-Haired Freaky People Allowed
I saw a picture the other day of a quaint little sign that said, "If only closed minds came with closed mouths". I couldn't infer where the sign was located, but I imagined it was perched atop the service counter of some small business that sold cleverly offensive bumper stickers and homemade bongs, run by a rat-tailed hippie that still believes in sex without consequences. I'm probably way off...my imagination tends to get away from me sometimes.
But regardless of where the sign sat, I couldn't help but have a problem with what it means. For a number of reasons. The foremost being how absolutely hypocritical it is. What is this really saying? It's saying that if you have an opinion that I find "closed minded" then you should shut your mouth. In other words, if you disagree with me, I don't want to hear it and I don't think anyone else should hear it either. So who is closed-minded? Maybe someone should make a sign saying, "If only closed minds didn't think of ridiculous things to put on signs."
Furthermore, it serves to deepen one of the underlying problems in this country. We can't have debates anymore without one side calling the other side names or being dismissed as closed-minded. I recently had a conversation with a long-time friend about gay marriage. It ended with me being de-friended on Facebook and I haven't heard from her since. I'm sure she thought I was being "closed-minded" about the issue...but I'm not the one that got angry and cut off all forms of communication. I guess some people can't be friends with someone they don't see eye-to-eye with. I'm not one of those people.
Even the term "closed-minded" bothers me. It's nonsensical if you really think about it. How can someone even have a closed mind? In order to have an opinion or conviction, you have to register at least a little bit of information about the subject. You search for the truth, and once you believe you've found it, you defend it. How is that "closed-minded"?
I submit to you that there are no closed minds. There are only minds. To each one is given, unique to any other, and you are expected to use it. So the next time someone accuses you of having a closed mind, remind them how stupid they are. Just kidding...sort of.
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