June 12, 2008 - June 5, 2008
I admit there's a temptation to do cheap jokes like this one. But
the point I prefer to make on this day goes beyond death, mutilation,
and graveyard monuments. What differentiated the generation that fought
and won World War II at appalling cost was not the number of their dead
but their commitment to a vision of victory. The men who died on D-Day
were fighting for the hope that the people they cared most about --
their comrades in arms, their families back home, the nameless millions
who suffered vicariously with them via the radio, newsreels, and
letters from the front -- would win through to a new confidence in
freedom and an exalted sense of joy and faith in their heritage.
Sadly, the thing that makes us lesser than the World War II generation
is not the bravery or resolve of the young soldiers who fight for us.
That seems to be a constant. The difference lies in our incapacity to imagine and work
for a victory that improves the lives of the living more than it
pains the families of the dead.
That incapacity is the definition of our growing failure as a nation. If you secretly cheer for bad news from the places our troops are fighting, you do not support the troops, you are not a patriot, and you do not deserve the citizenship you inherited for free at birth. If there are enough of us like you, we are a doomed people who deserve the firestorm our enemies plan for us all.
I hope there are fewer of you than there seem to be.
REALLY -- PSAYINGS.5A.9 LocoPunk got us thinking yesterday. While we were all writing email to our Senators protesting the coming Z-Visa there was some landscaping being done here in the Southland by people that don't look all that legal -- so, some of us felt conflicted.
But it is time to embrace the future. And -- we have a few ideas.
Once they're available, everyone should get at least one Z-Visa. Ideally, we think that you should get five. We're not sure that you'll want to go down to a clinic, present your Z-Visa, and get medical services, but we're are sure you'll like this idea.
First, give your name a bit of a Spanish flair. For instance, Joseph Mannix could become Jose Manuel. Wear a big straw hat. Put on a fake mustache. Have fun. Be creative. Then, go get a social security number. Now, you are all set. Go get four more for expanded fun and profit. [Note: If it needs to be said -- do not use your real address.]
What you do now is pay Jose out of your business. If you don't have one, start one. Now Jose is going to want a lot of money, so pay him often and mightily. This will produce a loss in your business, or at least reduce the profit of your business thus reducing your income tax bill -- Federal and State in most cases. Go to the bank and cash Jose's checks. Take the money home and store appropriately.
Then, after a year or so, stop paying Jose and go onto the next of your Z-Visas. Repeat. For the next five to seven years you can effectively store up quite a collection of non-sequential, small denomination versions of U.S. currency. The rest is up to you.
If you could do this with $150,000 per year, you would save approximately $60,000 in income taxes. Over five years, that's $300,000.
If anyone comes looking for Jose or Rodrigo or whomever, you simply show them the dutifully kept copies of thier Z-Visas and any other documentation and say, "I haven't seen [insert Spanish name here] for a long time. He did some work for us some time ago, but I haven't seen him lately." Seem like you are recalling a distant relative or former spouse. Work on the line in a mirror. You'll have at least two or three years to practice.
Some of you are saying, "But we don't have a couple of hundred grand to run through a Z-Visa." Not to worry. Just get your Z-Visas and sell your services. You're in the business of returning tax free cash to businesses or individuals who require your service. How about 15 percent? That seems fair. Simply follow the above example. You could use all your Z-Visas in the same year as part of this service. And, you won't even have to talk to any governmental tax collecting personnel. Return the cash to the payor less your fee and there you go. Everybody wins.
Of course, you might not even want to get your hands dirty at all. Just go get the Z-Visas anyway and sell them to the highest bidder. There will be enterprising groups all over the country -- especially in the Southland -- that will gladly pay you for your Z-Visas to be used in the ways identified above and other ways yet to be imagined. Feel free to leave any of your suggestions in the comments section. We're all ears.
This morning, the Washington
Post (h/t Drudge) is telling us that Republican lawmakers in
particular are confident they'll be able to pass the big immigration
Okay. Fine. The endangered species called Congressional Republicans
apparently does suffer from the death wish
Glenn Reynolds alluded to last week. Somehow, they've convinced
themselves that this WAPO poll is good news for their own prospects
I mean, that is the finding that's "really turned things around," isn't
it? So what percent of the 44 percent opposed is Republican or
conservative? What would you
I've previously referenced Ace of Spades's plan for all immigration bill opponents to formally withdraw from the Republican Party. I will now fearlessly predict that Ace's plan won't work. It requires the participation of politicians who are actually bright enough to recognize when the light at the end of the tunnel is an oncoming train. The Republican Party doesn't have any politicians like that. Sorry, Ace. It was a nice try.
It's time for Plan B. Let's all jump on the bandwagon. Think about it. Who among us wouldn't enjoy the opportunity for a fresh start devoid of any accountability whatsoever? When the bill is signed into law, let's all go get our own Z-Visas. Pick whatever hispanic name appeals to you and go register. They can't possibly do background checks in 24-hours, so we'll be instantly entitled to all the benefits of being an illegal alien. Cancel your health insurance. You'll get free healthcare at every hospital in the country. Quit paying your property taxes. Your kids are entitled to go to public school anyway. And no matter where they want to attend a state university, they'll qualify for in-state tuition rates. If you get pulled over for a traffic violation, just twirl your mustache and tell the arresting officer how much paperwork he's going to have to do. If he still doesn't let you go, all you have to do is not show up for court and not pay the fine. Best of all, when it comes time to file your income tax return with the IRS, don't do it. If the heat really gets serious (Ha ha. It's ICE we're talking about here...), just move temporarily to a big city like New York or San Francisco, and every cop on the force will be your accomplice in escaping your pursuers. It's perfect.
The only way they could ever catch you is if you decided you wanted to be an American citizen, and why on earth would you ever sign up for a silly program like that? We've already been American citizens, and so we know better. Life with a Z-Visa is going to be the best deal on the planet. Heck, it won't be more than one or two election cycles before we'll even be able to vote for our favorite politicians, and then we'll be able to write our own ticket for how much more free stuff we want.
Muy bueno? Si.
. A week ago, I
told you about Andrew barking at turkeys.
I didn't tell you about how
incredibly handsome Andrew is, or about the broken rib that sticks out
from his side like a burr. We don't know why he's so timid, but he is.
Apart from barking at turkeys and goldfinches, he can't seem to bring
himself to meet anyone. He won't take food -- not even an irresistible
treat -- from anyone's hand.
All we do know is that Andrew is a sweet, gorgeous boy, and he succeeded an incredibly beautiful greyhound named Patrick, who was the fastest thing to a hundred yards anyone here has ever seen -- and who had the gravest, most dignified personality anyone here has ever seen.
I saw Patrick explode out of the box and do the hundred in about three
seconds.. I saw Patrick racing in the yard,
changing direction 180 degrees in an instant just for the hell of it.
He weighed 80 pounds, because he was always fit as a fiddle, and the
only time he ever lost his temper was when a 95-lb greyhound at the
park growled at his deerhound. Patrick curled his lip and flexed his
massive thigh muscles. The other greyhound hid behind his mommy. I
would have done that too. It was always clear that he was faster than
the lovely Molly, because
she never had that explosiveness except when somebody was holding
cheeseburger or a potato chip.
Now it turns out that you can get the complete history and pedigree of
your greyhounds from the internet,
with nothing more to go on than the tattoos in their ears. It was no
surprise at all that Molly
lost all her races. Beautiful as she is, she still would have preferred
any opportunity at food to winning a mere race. Patrick won four times,
Amazing to me, because his forte was so clearly the hundred yard dash.
Anything more than that and it would be so easy to see him issuing
perfunctory statements to the press about how there would be no records
because he'd strained a leg or a thigh and would have to do a month of
rehab on the weight machines.
Only Andrew never ran a single race.Which makes him the ultimate softy. Except that his daddy was the final proof of why Andrew was a timid barker rather than a racer. Nobody could live up to Andrew's Daddy. Here's the record of the dog called the Dominator, Andrew's papa: He ran 148 races, and he won 63 of them. Jeez. How could anyone compete with that?