Freeloader

A very rough two weeks of feeling like garbage seems to be mercifully coming to an end. I hesitate to celebrate just yet since I went for a similar head fake from this dreadful cold five days ago only to fall into an even nastier abyss of misery. This time, I confidently tell myself, it will be different. So what better way to get back into the swing of things than writing a blog about...U.S. tax policy??  Clickclickclickclick...(thats the sound of 100 of you bailing on this post). For those of you who remain...

Saw the story over the weekend where Amazon earned 11 billion dollars in 2018 on which they paid an effective tax rate of -1% ( they actually got a 129 million dollar refund). I immediately forwarded the story to my accountant with the admonition...Go Thou and do likewise! Depending on your political philosophy this bit of news either infuriates you or instills great admiration for the savvy of Jeff Bezos. As it happens I am firmly in both camps. 

Do I admire Jeff Bezos and his team of tax lawyers and accountants for figuring out a legal way to use our Byzantine mess of a tax code to their favor? Am I in awe as to how they could figure out a way to combine a series of legal credits, rebates and loopholes to obliterate their tax bill? Sure I am. When I meet with my accountant every year, I have never once said to him, Ok, Carl, listen up...I’ve had a really good year but I’m very concerned about the deficit and debt in Washington, so this year I want you to arrange it so that i fall into the highest tax bracket available. This year, I want to pay more taxes than I’ve ever paid, ok? Actually, my charge to him is to earn the exorbitant fee he charges for his services by doing exactly the opposite. Each year he saves me far more in taxes than he charges for his service, so every year, I play along. However, after all of his accounting jujitsu I still pay lots of tax. He helps me to lower the effective rate, but he never eliminates it. Ending up paying 0% has never and will never be available to me. Actually, if it ever did happen, I would feel like a freeloader. There is, after all, a price to be paid for freedom, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

Does the fact that Amazon pays 0% federal taxes infuriate me? You bet it does. Something tells me that every single one of the hundreds of businesses that they have put out of business via the process of creative destruction—-paid plenty in taxes. I hear all of the Amazon apologists argue about the millions and millions of dollars that Amazon invests all over the country, the construction projects that a burgeoning business spins off, the billions of stock options dolled out to their employees etc, etc. All of that is well and good. But, here’s the thing. I am one of those dinosaurs who still considers himself a champion of the free market. When I see the way cities and states all across the fruited plain have prostrated themselves at Amazon’s alter, all undercutting themselves trying to buy a headquarters, I recoil in disgust. Amazon has become an online retailer without equal and has generated an other worldly 29 billion dollars of profit as their reward. Why should taxpayers have to pay for for their headquarters building? This is exactly how I feel when I hear some football team owner threatening to leave the city unless the taxpayers build him a new stadium. WTF??

Of course, there is an easy fix to this problem, but neither side will even consider it...conservatives (are there any of you left?) because the current system empowers the well connected and rewards those with the most diabolical lobbyists...liberals because it isn’t sufficiently progressive (although, how progressive is a 0% tax rate for Amazon?)...and that is a flat tax, no deductions, no write offs, no fancy accountants. So instead of real tax reform, we chip at the edges of our 7000 page tax code every couple of years which only has the effect of making it even more complex and exploitable. Here’s a life lesson for all of you big government types...private sector accountants are always sharper, craftier and more effective than government accountants. Always have been...always will be. To level this playing field, you’re gonna have to put them out of business....flat tax.

“Hold My Big Mac...”

Two weeks ago, in my state of Virginia, we suffered a political earthquake that had all three of our highest ranked elected officials embroiled in career threatening controversies, which had made us the laughing stock of the country. Our Governor and Attorney General were dealing with racist photographs from their college days, our Lt. Governor, credibly accused by two women of sexual harassment. The air was thick with talk of triple impeachment. At that time I wrote the following:

Ralph knows that the people of Virginia, like the rest of America, have an attention span of a toddler. Sure, the fire might be hot for the first 48 hours, but each day after that it cools. Ralph also knows that the Press also has a short attention span. They might be in high drugeon when the story breaks, but after a few days it’s like...squirrel!!!

Two weeks to the day that all this broke, this political earthquake has vanished from the newspapers. Welcome to America in 2019.

One of the most enduring legacies of the Trump Presidency will be the magnificent cover he has provided for all manner of political misbehavior throughout government. Each day’s headlines scream out the latest outrage that would have been enough to doom previous Presidents. But, just about the time that all the players have their talking points ready, Trump has moved on to the next outrage, leaving the commentariat gasping for air and back to scribbling out talking points. I have come to believe that this is the signature genius of Donald Trump. Flood the zone with outlandish, fact-free, anti-constitutional and boorish behavior, then watch with glee your enemies trying to keep up with it all. Its fiendishly clever, and provides lesser political lights valuable cover for what would have been career ending death sentences. So, there’s a governor in Virginia who posed in blackface in his medical school yearbook, you say? Psshht, that’s so two weeks ago, bro.

So, the President has declared a national emergency at the southern border to circumvent the will of Congress, and decided to divert funds earmarked for drug interdiction from the Defense Department to fund his border wall? And this has your knickers in a knot? Somewhere in the White House the President is turning to one of his aides and saying, Here, hold my Big Mac and hand me my cell...

Mrs. Winston

This blog has had a field day with L’affair NoirFace, and for that I will forever be in the Governor’s debt. The man has been and continues to be...comedy gold. But, the fact that I have relentlessly made fun of it all does not mean that i think it’s actually...funny. It is anything but. It is a stain on our State and an embarrassment to all Virginians. Generally speaking, the more I crack jokes about something, the stronger my underlying feelings are on the subject.

I would never presume to lecture African Americans about how they should feel about all of this. I can’t possibly understand their prospective upon learning that their Governor, advertised to them as a reliable liberal, turned out to be someone who not only appeared in that terrible picture, but then butchered his response to the news with a parade of awkward, tone-deaf lying. They would be forgiven for shrugging their shoulders and saying, We just assume that anyone his age, Democrat or Republican probably did the same thing! So when that poll came out saying that 57% of African Americans in the state do not want him to resign, I’m cool with it. But if I were African American, I would be furious, not just with the betrayal, but with the shameless, insincere groveling, as if he thought their support could be purchased with mere trinkets, word salads and pandering.

This entire sorry episode has gotten me thinking about the first influential African American in my life, my 4th grade teacher at Elmont Elementary school in Hanover County, Virginia...the estimable Mrs. Winston. She was a force of nature who came steamrolling into my life like a wrecking ball. In those days, I hadn’t had much exposure to black people in general, and never a black teacher, one who exercised authority over me. To put as delicate a spin on it as possible...I wasn’t exactly a model student at Elmont Elementary. I found it nearly impossible to sit still, had the attention span of a gnat, and an advanced talent at crafting paper airplanes and getting into fights on the playground. In other words, Mrs. Winston would have been forgiven for writing me off as a lost cause, and shuffling me off to her fifth grade teaching colleagues with a condolence card. But no...that wasn’t Mrs. Winston. For reasons that I will never understand, she took a liking to me. Although it frustrated me at the time, she decided that I had too much potential to continue on my present course of being a jackass. I became her project in 1968. Her plan was simple...she determined to make my life a living hell by refusing to accept anything from me but my best work. This meant after school detentions for even minor classroom infractions, whereby i would have to write on the chalkboard...I will stop being a Jackass...50 times while listening to her lecture me about education, behavior and manners. The upshot of all of this was straightforward... I fell in love with Mrs. Winston. Her relentless nagging made me for the first time in my young life a good student. I’ll never forget the tears that welled up in her huge expressive eyes when she showed me my report card with straight E’s for Excellent.

But 1968 was a different time. Towards the end of the year, my church was having a revival all week. Back in those days this was rather commonplace, and every revival had a pack the pew night whereby each family was tasked with filling an entire pew with friends and neighbors. One day after school, I marched myself up to Mrs. Winston and excitedly extended an invitation...Mrs. W, will you come sit with me at the revival meeting Friday night?

Here’s another thing I will never forget, the look of sorrow and sadness that came over her beautiful face. She looked down at me with an expression I had never seen before. Did I say something wrong? Was she mad with me? She asks me to sit down beside her, held my hands and said something close to the following. It’s been over 50 years so I hope my memory is reliable...Douglas...first I want to thank you so much for inviting me to your church. I would love nothing more than to be your guest...but not this time. When I couldn’t hide my confusion and disappointment she offered an explanation...Douglas, a revival meeting is an important thing. Serious business! Everyone needs to pay attention to the preacher...and I’m afraid if I go with you, more people might be paying attention to me than the preacher. We wouldn’t want that, would we?

I didn’t understand. I went straight home and told my Dad, who was the pastor of the church, what Mrs. Winston had said. Tears came into my father’s eyes. He sat his 4th grade son down and explained to him for the first time about segregation in the church, and how many people aren’t comfortable worshiping with people of others races. He finished with this observation...Son, listen to me. Your teacher is a very wise woman. She’s right about how people would be paying more attention to her than the preacher. But you know what else? If Mrs. Winston had come with you...I think she would have been the most holy, Godly person in the whole building.

For me, every single time something comes up about race in America, I always think back to my profoundly wise 4th grade teacher. I think...What would Mrs. Winston think of all this. Although America has made much progress since 1968, when I think of the sorry mess that Virginia finds itself in in 2019 I am profoundly grateful that Mrs. Winston is in heaven and not alive to see how far we still have to go.

Leaked Notes From Northam Staff Meeting

Notes from Ralph Northam’s senior staff meeting at the Governor’s mansion Tuesday morning, the 12th of February 9:00 am...

Governor enters meeting in high spirits, no doubt buoyed by overnight polling that shows his approval rating steadily rising among African Americans...calls the meeting to order with, Yo! You feelin’ me?.....Asks if someone can find him a Cliff Notes version of Roots, claiming that the book is..like reading the freaking phone book.....Gov. then presents a list of brainstorming thoughts he has come up with of ways that he can lead a State-wide conversation on race that can restore his good name...

* Order Executive Mansion chefs to institute Soul Food Saturday’s, where only African American inspired dishes are served

* Floated idea of hosting State dinner honoring all of his favorite African American singers and actors like Smokey Robinson and Sidney Poitier. (It was then suggested that the Governor might want to consider younger, more current stars. He agreed and suggested perhaps Mr. T and Gary Coleman)

* Floated the advisability of hiring Jesse Jackson as a consultant and liaison to the African American community.

* order rainbow colored t-shirts for all staff emblazoned with...I’m Down For The Struggle on the front and We Shall Overcome on the back

Several senior staff suggested that while all of these suggestions were very interesting, that perhaps more concrete and practical things should be done through the advancement of an agenda that might actually help address the real concerns of the African American community like education and job opportunities.....Governor rolls eyes and declares, Come on people, this is no time to get bogged down in the policy weeds. We need to keep our eyes on the prize and that prize is my  ego and my legacy. If you people think I’m gonna let one bad photograph tarnish my image as a good liberal, you all have another think coming. No, what we need are grand symbolic gestures that are photo-opp worthy. So, lets all hunker down and make it rain up in here with some ideas, yo?!

My Civics Lesson

Yesterday was one of those days when you get to see the inner workings of government up close and personal. As an American who lives in the State of Virginia, and the County of Henrico, I fall under the jurisdiction of three levels of government. I am forever grateful for all three, incidentally. The Bill of Rights and Constitution enshrine my rights at the Federal level, my State government provides valuable services to me without which my life would be considerably more difficult, and my County did a nice job of educating my children, and does a passable job of filling potholes. So, I’m no anarchist here. But my experience of yesterday demonstrates precisely why I don’t share the confidence of my younger friends that giving them fresh new Socialistic powers to centrally plan ever larger swaths of our lives would be such a good idea...

Recently, a client of mine moved to Florida. As a resident of that fine State, she then called me for investment advice. I informed her that despite the fact that she had been a client of mine for over 10 years, before we could proceed with said advice, I needed to obtain my non-resident securities and life licenses in her new home state. The business at hand was of a time sensitive nature, so I told her I would move with haste to obtain all the proper licenses. I had allotted yesterday morning for this task by marking down 9:00 to 9:30 am—-Florida license. This turned out to be wildly optimistic.

A visit to the Florida Bureau of Muckity-Muck informed me that although I have been in this business for 36 years and hold securities licenses in upwards of ten states, I would need to be fingerprinted anew for the privilege of doing business in the Sunshine State. And no, I could not use just any vendor for this procedure, I had to use just the one such firm that Florida uses for these purposes. I could obtain the properly coded fingerprint cards from them for just $50 and I could expect to receive them in two to three weeks...but wait, if you’re in a hurry, we can overnight them to you for an additional charge of $32.50. I sighed, mumbled something about well, this is the life I have chosen, and ordered the gold plated fingerprint cards, which were delivered to me first thing yesterday morning....

Florida Bureau of Muckity Muck.......$82.50

Florida Department of Insurance........$62.00

I then drove over to the Henrico County Police headquarters to get fingerprinted, which I hadn't had to do in a very long time. I was pleasantly surprised that this stage of the process would only cost $15, a glorious bargain. But, upon being ‘greeted’ by the surly, agitated women ensconced behind bulletproof glass I was rudely informed that I would need two forms of ID, one of the picture variety. Check, my drivers license would work nicely. But then I noticed that the other accepted forms of ID I did not possess...I am not a government employee, I am not in the military, I don't have a social security card, and my passport expired three years ago. Enter, the Virginia Department of Vital Statitics.

Henrico County.......$15

Their handy website informed me that a certified copy of my birth certificate could be obtained for the low low price of $31 and delivered swiftly to me in 2-6 weeks. However, walk-ins can be provided with same day service. A quick 15 minute commute down to someplace in Scott’s Addition found me in line with several dozen of my fellow citizens seeking similar proof of their existence. When I finally made it to window 4, I was confronted by a man who looked like he wanted to kill me with his bare hands for disturbing the text conversation he was having. I proceeded with extreme caution. 45 
minutes later I emerged with the proper papers. Then it was back to the Police headquarters to pick up my fingerprint cards. Hour three of my quest found me at the UPS store to overnight my precious cargo to the Florida Bureaucrats as quickly as possible to accommodate my client’s time sensitive request. The woman at the UPS store beamed at me and had the cards out of my hand and practically out the door so fast I didn’t have time to complain about the outrageous charge for shipping something next day delivery!

Virginia Department of Vital Statistics....$31

UPS......$25.50

Total man hours dedicated to project....3 and a half

Yeah, so I’m out over $200. But on the plus side, I got to meet two delightful Government employees about whom I might one day have nightmares.

But, sure...let’s let a new eager army of Commissars from the Green New Deal plan our economy. What could possibly go wrong?

Great. Now I have Guilt!

Several months ago, I signed up for the Mentoring ministry at my church. It was an eight month commitment whereby mature men and women get paired with two younger men or women in a mentoring relationship. Now, before you all start giggling at the thought of me being considered a mature man, two things...one, my church doesn’t really know me very well, I’m new, and second, they were obviously grading on a curve. Nevertheless, I made the cut. I was expecting to be paired with two twenty-something guys fresh out of college trying to make their way in the world. Instead, I was introduced to two older guys, sharp, accomplished men, one in his late 30’s the other in his late 40’s who both happened to be new to the faith. We meet every two weeks for coffee and conversation. There is no curriculum. What guidance I receive comes to me via weekly e-mail from my man, Tommy Thompson, who heads up the program at Hope. That’s a roundabout way of introducing this morning’s subject, which comes courtesy of Tommy’s most recent email in the form of the following killer quote:

“We must have some room to breathe. We need freedom to think and permission to heal. Our relationships are being starved to death by velocity. No one has the time to listen, let alone love. Our children lay wounded on the ground, run over by our high-speed good intentions. Is God now pro-exhaustion? Doesn’t He lead people beside the still waters anymore?” (Swenson, Margin, p.30)

Ok. When you read the words, Is God now pro-exhaustion, at 6 o’clock in the morning, it startles you, right? First of all, I’m bummed that I didn’t think of it first...what a great line!! But almost immediately after reading it I felt guilty. Here’s why.

I just came off a week of being sick with a really bad cold. It hampered my activities for practically the entire week. I had to cancel appointments, reschedule a bunch of things. I was only in the office for maybe a total of a day and a half. The rest of my time was spent laying around the house coughing and feeling miserable. For the first week in years I had not a single workout at the gym. In other words, I had eliminated all of the velocity from my life. I had all kinds of time to think, heal and breathe. The trouble was...I hated every minute of it. Sure, part of the hate part was because I was sick. But part of me felt totally out of the game, abandoned by life.

Here’s the thing, everything in the quote Tommy sent me is true. I know it in my gut. But, I’m a high motor kind of guy who comes from a family of high motors. One of the most hilarious things ever is watching my sister Linda during beech week trying to...relax. She’s like a jack-in-the-box on speed! Although I have never been diagnosed, my siblings considerate it an established fact that i have ADHD, a vicious slander of course, but just for the sake of argument, lets say that they’re right? All of this slowing down, taking time to smell the roses, living a more contemplative life sounds great on paper, but when it comes to applying it, I feel like Ralph Northam getting six chapters through Roots, saying, Man, this is harder than i thought!

This coming week is jammed with one thing after another, due to all of last week’s inactivity, but the truth is, I’m psyched. So, thanks...Tommy Thompson, for giving me another reason to think that maybe my guys should be mentoring me instead of the others way around!

My Money’s On Ralph

Ladies and gentlemen, Gov. Ralph Northam, D, Virginia is not going anywhere.

What we have witnessed over the last 7 days has been nothing less than a master stroke of survival. This man makes Machiavelli look like a wallflower. No one currently in public life has demonstrated a better understanding of the moment we are in than Ralph Northam. Despite the initial ham-fisted apologies and tortured explanations, and despite the fact that during the most crucial press conference of his life, he came within a nanosecond of performing the moonwalk, Ralph Northam survived. Ralph knows. Ralph gets it. Ralph understands the moment.

Ralph knows that the people of Virginia, like the rest of America, have an attention span of a toddler. Sure, the fire might be hot for the first 48 hours, but each day after that it cools. Ralph also knows that the Press also has a short attention span. They might be in high drugeon when the story breaks, but after a few days it’s like...squirrel!!!

So, Ralph didn’t become Governor by accident. He may have sold himself as the kindly old family doctor, but inside burns the heart of an egotistical tiger, who had to be willing to crush his opposition as he grew in statue in Democratic Party circles. Along the way, he picked up a select group of shady characters who’s job it was to gather background information on all of his potential impediments to power. That information was intended to be kept locked away in a safe place and only used in an emergency. When his yearbook photos emerged, Ralph had his emergency. In less than a week, his two fellow Democrats who just happen to be the two guys who would be constitutionally next up as his replacement have found themselves in even worse shape then he. What are the odds? Somebody read The Prince!

So, in this battle, my money’s on Ralph.