Working For Uncle Sam

uncle-samSoviet Leader Putin was in town recently, visiting the United States, and he met a Russian who immigrated to the USA.  “What do you do for a living here, in this new country,” he asked.

And then the young fellow said to him, “My sister and I we work in a big factory.”  Then Putin replied, “How do these American Capitalists pigs treat you?”

And the man answered, “Just fine.”

“In fact, if you are walking home from work, the boss picks you up in his big car and drives you to your door.  Another time, he treats you to a dinner in an expensive restaurant.  Sometimes he takes you home for the weekend and buys you presents!  Putin suddenly taken aback visibly, asked, “How often does this happen?”

“Well, to me, actually never.  But to my sister, several times.”

It occurred to me yesterday that I may have been become lax in my duties, here lately I have been writing all of this “upbeat and comical, often, almost funny material” and have not irked or irritated anyone lately.  I am sorry.  I should have been paying more attention to increasing my nuisance value, and for that I apologize.

So today, I would like to try and make it up to the majority of you who are disappointed in me and feel let down.  I will now put forth an honest and decent attempt to upset your apple cart, and please remember, “that blanks are optional” fill in your own favorite expletive at random.

Let’s get started!

Monday morning, you showed up for work, good for you!  (Quick over your right shoulder, it is your boss, he is reading this! …. Hah, gotcha, best be careful today)  So today, this morning, you showed up for work, all bright eyed and bushy tailed as my Daddy used to say.

Here is your reward:  “You get to pay a  bunch of taxes on the money you make this day.”  This is what you get for showing up for work, you get to pay taxes.  You get to pay a whole lotta taxes, Y’all.

I hate to tell you this, but it gets worse.

A 2008 study by Sen. Tom Colburn (R) Oklahoma found that “federal workers” don’t always bother showing up for work.  During the seven years starting in 2001, federal “workers” took 2.5 million days worth of absences without leave (AWOL).  That figures out to be about 9,410 man-years of no work at high pay.

In the service, if you were AWOL you were in BIG TROUBLE and it usually meant a close personal relationship with ship-board Marines and a small cubicle with bars on it.  But evidently in the government, there is no penalty other than we will ask you to not do that anymore.

So here we are, we are at work.

When we do good, they issue us a paycheck, minus this and minus that, and with what is left over (usually not all that much) you are given the profound pleasure of paying taxes.  Every day Americans pay sales taxes, property taxes, gasoline taxes, phone taxes, taxes on water, beer, coffee, utilities, income taxes, Social Security Taxes, and if you are so stupid and foolish as to die, well they have a tax for that, aptly named “The Death Tax” and you are taxed on that too.

Wouldn’t be so bad, if it were not for this one hang-up in the system.  Most of you, the majority, you spend your money wisely and the government, well, they don’t.  This is the part that most folks deeply resent, the fact that they take away from you and your family, to spend very unwisely the stipend that you have worked so hard to earn.  And remember, “you showed up to work today” a lot of them … did not.

Are we having fun yet boys & girls?

We have all these “elected bozo’s” that are sucking us dry, they are building bridges to nowhere, they have these little ditties they call “earmarks” and “they pay people to NOT make things, to NOT grow things, and they make a lot more money than you do, and of course, have better benefits.”

When you bellow, “Hey, knock it off!  I am sick of this ____ !”

They look at you as if you are crazy and then demand of you, “Show us what “services” you want cut.”  On the same token, when they vote themselves a nice healthy raise, or raise your taxes, they do not bother to inform you of what you will have to go without to furnish the monies they want or need.  And they are needy, they want you to go without less money for the kids, the house, and the retirement.

They focus only on the governments’ needs … Not yours.

And believe it or not, they are so accommodating it is almost sickening.  Did you realize that there are now seven states that have “Tax Me More” accounts, where liberals who support more taxes can send additional money to the government if they believe the state will spend their money more wisely than they will.

Hardly anyone does.

Now look at these folks that have billions of dollars, do you see them giving them blindly to the government to spend?  No, surely not.  Billionaires give their money to foundations, and they usually will be members of the board of these foundations (thus giving them some control over where there money is being allocated or spent).  Billionaires and legions of liberal politicians believe your taxes should be even higher than they are right now, why?  Because they believe they are smarter than you and know how to spend it more wisely.

Which might be true.  You showed up today, they didn’t.  And they got paid just as much as you.  Don’t you just wish they would just leave you alone.



Womens’ Underwear


Now that title should attract every internet troll in the Universe, should be amusing to see what transpires.  Want a big hit count?

Put the word S-E-X somewhere in the title or “imply that the word S-E-X” is somewhere in there, then sit back and watch ’em come.

There are two things in this world that drive me bonkers.

(#1) Christmas Music. It drives me up the wall, I used to say it drives me crazy, but Cup Cake was always rolling her eyes and muttering “short trip” so I stopped doing that.

Department store Christmas Musak is my Achilles Heel and I just about go nuts every time I am exposed to it.  It is not the message or the jingle lah-lah, it is how it “just sticks in my head all day long like some kind of mutant cerebral disease” and will not let me go!

(#2) The second thing I can’t abide by is “shopping.” I just about hate any kind of shopping, for just about anything.  You ever see someone with a puppy on a leash and they are literally “dragging the dog, because the pup will not be tamed by the leash.”  That is me shopping, drag me kicking and screaming all the way into the deep recesses of the store, but I will not willfully submit.

It might be a throw back to when I was a little dinker and my mother I don’t know.  You know how popular it is in America, “to blame it all on your mother” these days.  That could be it.  I do know this, my dad was not all that big on babysitting and he didn’t do a lot of it.  So consequently, mom would take my sister and myself “shopping” and that including women’s apparel and undergarments.

Now we all know, this is not a familiar area for a little boy.  That might have started my aversion to it right there, being dragged around all day long like some little blue eyed blond haired trophy into every store in America by my mother.

Most men do not like to shop, this is why the “Men’s Department” is on the first floor of the building, about two inches off the floor, just inside the door.  A man for instance, will stand outside a store and say to himself, “I am cold.”  He then walks into a store, finds a suitable jacket or coat, purchases it, “I am no longer cold.”  Shopping is now officially over.  Let us go home.  That is shopping for a man.

Now as I grew older in life, I figured my aversion for shopping would eventually wane, I mean hell, I can stand in Fredrick’s Of Hollywood or Victoria’s Secret for hours at a time now, and it doesn’t bother me a bit.

Now the women, I can feel their eyes boring into the back of my skull, and they quickly look away when I do catch their glance, but they sense that I am not supposed to be there.

Sort of like when you are at the Proctologist’s Office, no one is smiling and everyone is looking down at the floor.  Same thing with a man in a store filled with women’s apparel and women.   This is often

I realize, it is just like all those little pig-tailed girls did to me in the third grade when Mom drug me into the same kind of mess, “Hey?  Whadya YOU doin in here!” and I just shrug my shoulders and wish I was deer hunting in Boseman, Montana or something.

And they are right, I am not, supposed to be there.

I know it, and I didn’t want to come in to this particular store in the first place …. SHE … made me do it.  So I do the natural thing, I get on the defense.  I do as Frazier Crane sez or Dr. Phil is fond of suggesting … I find my happy place.

I listen intently to the musak coming out of the overhead speakers, Christmas Music and I secretly make up my own lyrics to the songs and all is at peace in my world.

Shop till you drop girls … I will be over here in the corner softly humming.