Fairness in the Tax Code

"As It Relates To Taxes, Who Defines 'Fair'?"
This was a question posed by a friend, to which I answer:

The people insisting that "the rich" pair their "fair share" aren’t at all interested in “fair,” and the proof is everywhere. Consider:
--Is it fair to tax saved money (that was already taxed) because the owner died? The estate tax may be politically logical and a valuable revenue instrument, but its imposition has nothing to do with “fair” -- especially when every dollar in an estate was already taxed once.
--Or is it fair to tax the gains from wise investments when we don’t allow deductions for the losses from unwise ones? Increased risks are added to the wrong side of the equation and, as a result, reduce investments. Is this fair? Hardly! Even if capital gains taxes are in some cases reasonable, no one with a triple-digit IQ can call it "fair".
--Is it fair that the top 1 percent of wage earners pay 37 percent of the income taxes? They don’t use 37 times the government-provided services of the remaining 99 percent of the country. They don’t place 37 times the burden on societal resources. And they certainly do not require 37 times the entitlements. Is the tax burden on the wealthiest amongst us appropriate? Possibly. Is it "fair"? Not by any definition I know.
--Is it fair that the bottom third of Americans pays no federal taxes at all (when they are among the largest consumers of government-provided benefits)? Of course it’s unfair. It may also be the right policy -- but that is a different debate than one over fairness.

Tax policy and fairness is a tough match. The tax code is not -- nor has it even been -- built on a concept of overall fairness. But if, like the president, alleged “fairness” is your goal, there are ways to do that.

If you think that fairness means paying an equal proportion of earnings, OK -- that means a flat tax. Under a flat tax the rich would still pay more in taxes -- it’s the percentage that would stay the same. Under this structure everyone pays the same proportion in taxes, while the amounts differ with income. A flat tax of, say, 20%, means that a person earning $250k per year would pay $50k per year in income taxes; a person earning $40k per year would pay $8k in income taxes. This is “fair,” even if it might seem inequitable to the left.

Or we could go for the most pure form of fair -- equal shares. Using this method, we would take the total federal budget and divide it by the number of people in the country, and then assign each person a share of the bill --about $11,800 per person per year. The average family of five would face about a $60,000 tax bill.
That is “fair,” even if it is absurd.

This nonsense (along with the new "shared sacrifice" mantra) has NOTHING to do with fairness -- it has to do with political reality. The fact is that the wealthy are viewed by most as having a greater ability to pay, and that ability to pay makes taking it from them “fair.” But the resulting implication -- that the 37 percent the top 1 percent (or 67 percent the top 10 percent) pays in taxes is unfair to the remaining 90-99 percent -- is beyond ridiculous.

That doesn’t mean the progressive tax system is wrong, though I think it's hideous -- but it has nothing to do with “fair.” Politicians don’t want anyone to pay their “fair share,” they want someone else to pay their constituents’ share. The fact is the Democrats are demonizing people paying the most in taxes under the guise of “fairness.”

It is an absurd line of attack. And it is one that makes villains out of the very people we are asking to give up even more. I am reminded of the scene from "Goodfellas" after Paulie takes over a restaurant at Henry Hill's urging: "Business bad? F- you, pay me. Oh, you had a fire? F- you, pay me. Place got hit by lightning, huh? F- you, pay me."

The Real Truth

This is NOT original content, but a repost of a wonderful article I just read by Renee James; I am posting it here to keep it for posterity (and maybe my next nephew/niece):

THE REAL TRUTH (NO ONE WILL TELL YOU)

As former colleague of mine used to say, and I mean this in the kindest way to every recent graduate reading this column, "Listen to me very carefully." What you don't know about life, the workplace, relationships and love is a lot. Don't misunderstand me; I'm not saying you should. It takes real life, away from school and textbooks and seminars, to teach you. And thirty-five years past my own high school graduation, I'm no expert. But that's the real lesson here, the real truth that no one seems to ever tell you. No one is.

Be warned: what follows may well be your life in the years ahead. You wake up after a restless night's sleep, kill a stink bug that looks completely at ease perched on the bathroom faucet, rouse your children, ask them yet again to hang up their damp towels on the floor, remind them to put the cereal and milk away, and comb their hair before leaving the house. You start a load of laundry and drive to work, where you concentrate as much as possible on the responsibilities for which you earn your wages. You head home to prepare a dinner that may or may not include all the food groups, or all the family members, then run around in or out of the house completing the next set of agenda items, then fall asleep during Treme.

Enthralling, right? Fascinating, I know. Again, listen to me very carefully. This doesn't sound all that exhilarating but that's my point. Unless you're planning on attaining world renown of one kind or another, with just a few minor adjustments, you'll live some version of this life. My husband and I have for the past twenty-five years. So has everyone we know, and our friends and family cover a broad spectrum of ages, household incomes and lifestyles. Regardless of the circumstances that surround us or the degrees we hold, we're all living that spectacularly unglamorous life you never see nor read about in the media.


It's fabulous and it's good, and not so good, and then great and then pretty hard and then really hard and then funny and then its okay and then it makes you crazy again and then you get a stretch of calm before a storm. Jobs come and go. They can give us an enormous source of accomplishment or an enormous source of stress, sometimes simultaneously. People move in and out of our lives for reasons we may never fully understand. Children arrive and turn a couple into parents overnight. Families and friends appear and disappear, and you figure out a new way to interact with each other; a way that will never really be the same as it used to be. What I hope you'll take away from this little description is that life is rarely one unending upward trajectory toward "awesome."

Through it all, it's unlikely you'll remember the speech you heard at your graduation. You'll be busy creating a life, a home, maybe a family. G0d willing, you'll live in surroundings that bring you comfort and a bit of sanctuary. You'll pay your bills and walk the dog and plant some flowers and match up the socks that come out of the dryer and hug your kids and put away the groceries and sort the recycling. Once in a while you'll read an outstanding book, hear music that moves you or see a memorable movie or play. You'll laugh and cry with friends or family. You'll forgive and ask forgiveness. You'll raise your children and if you're fortunate, one day you realize that you'd like them even if they weren't your kids. You'll find some time to give back to your community, and share your own unique gifts with others. The days will become weeks that become the months and years that become your life.

One more time, listen to me very carefully. Please don't spend the next twenty or thirty years thinking or saying things like this: once we buy the bigger house, everything will be better. Once I drive the luxury car, it will be better. Once I get a promotion, it will be better. Once we take that trip to Europe, it will be better. We just need the 1000-thread-count cotton duvet / the Miraval vacation / the projection home theater and it will be better.

That will never happen: Don't waste time waiting for life to get better because of an event or a possession or an activity. Not one of those things will make a difference to your happiness; not one. Life gets better because of you, and what you say, and what you do; and how true you are to yourself and those around you. Once you've learned that, you will have achieved success by any measure.

February 22

Seems innocuous enough, doesn't it? February 22. It's not one of those dates which will live in infamy. If you are a hockey fan, you might note that on Friday, February 22, 1980, the US National Hockey Team beat the Soviet Team in what was called the "Miracle on Ice".

Some of you might also know that George Washington was born on February 22, 1732.

But more significant to me was a Saturday, February 22, 1986. My best friend and I attended a United Synagogue Youth dance that evening, as we did on many Saturday nights from 1985-1988. This particular dance was held at a synagogue in our neighborhood in NE Philadelphia (many of the dances took place all over the Philadelphia and South Jersey region; we had school buses hired to bring kids to and from the different locations). The synagogue was called Congregation Ner Zedek, and we'd never been there before.

I remember attending the dance with one young lady to whom I was not attached, but who wanted a guy on her arm -- at least at the beginning. These were not formal affairs, but she had a crush on me, so in we went. It didn't take long before a second young lady, whose acquaintance I made a few months earlier, approached me and wanted to dance and chat. Young lady #2 was far more attractive than young lady #1, and so, being a normal 15-year old guy, I happily went off dancing with her.

At one point we were seated, resting, when I noticed another young woman staring at me. She was a stranger, I'd never seen her at any of the dances. All I remember of her were the biggest brown eyes I had ever seen -- big enough to catch my glance from across the room. My dance partner needed to use the restroom, which was outside the dance hall part of the building, so being a gentleman I walked her out. The restrooms were small, and there were several people waiting to use the Ladies' Room. She went on ahead to get into line, and after 10 seconds or so, I felt a strange vibe coming from behind me. Turning, I saw those eyes -- those giant brown eyes, staring again, this time standing a foot in front of my face.

I don't remember how she was dressed (though I know it was conservatively). I recall that she told me she was also waiting for a girl to use the bathroom -- her best friend, who smuggled in alcohol and was getting sick in the bathroom. Charming. But definitely a conversation starter.

We waited a while for our charges, talking a little and sizing each other up (though this wasn't apparent to me until much later), and she asked me to dance. I could no more have denied her at that moment than I could have learned calculus, so into the dance hall we went. Of course the DJ was spinning a slow song (and they always played 3-4 in a row), so we began slow dancing together. I never saw my young lady friend whom I escorted to the bathroom again, but I was told later that she entered the dance hall looking for me, only to see my lips locked with this new woman's, and that was that. Hell hath no fury, but she didn't make a scene or anything, she left us alone.

By the end of the evening we couldn't keep our hands off of each other. Not in a sexual way, aside from the kissing, but in a romantic, human way. That way you feel when you just don't want to disconnect from someone, for fear the magic will end. She was one of the few people who did not rely on a school bus to take her home after the dance; her mother came to pick her up (and her drunk friend, as well). I remember shaking her hand when I walked her to her mother's car, then going back inside to fetch my coat and locate my best friend (I hadn't seen the guy for hours by this point). We walked home.

I remember leaving my coat open for the walk home, despite the frigid air and the light snow that was falling. The snow just added to my mood -- peaceful, content, fulfilled. I'm not sure my feet touched the pavement the whole walk home.

Three and half years later I married that girl, just a couple of miles from where we met. There were many bumps in the intervening years, of course, as there will be with teenagers and teenage angst; with parents who disapprove of their daughter's boyfriend, with a couple that lives 12 miles apart and didn't (at first) have a single car between them. No email, either -- and no texting. Heck, no cell phones!

Twenty five years ago.
A quarter of a century ago.
It seems surreal to me, now. I'm not looking back there, pining for my lost love... I'm looking back there in wonderment at the kid I was and the man I became, and wonder if she'd even recognize me. What I became, for well or ill, in part thanks to her.

When I had my wisdom teeth removed surgically, in the hospital, they knocked me out to perform the procedure; when I came to, I was crying and asking for her (woke up my father, who had fallen asleep in the recovery area).

When I fractured my wrist, she was in the hospital with me until past 5am, so she could drive me home (the fact that she was partially responsible for breaking it might have contributed to her generosity).

Anyway, enough of the Memory Lane stuff. It was good, it was bad, we were kids.
But dear L-rd.
Twenty five years ago.
I just cannot fathom it.

Seasons

In the springtime when the irises begin to blossom
or...
Late in the summer
when every verdure is thirsty
for the kiss of rain
Or when fall is coercing the trees to become naked
coating the earth with a multitude of colors
and...
the winter night skies are opulent with stars I...
Voluntarily, in all seasons,
surrender to you.

Every drop of rain that

descends from my body
longs to
shower your flora and perfume
your skin.

I...
Yearn for your touch
and long to
Open my petals
as you exhaust me with your love,
Until I fall into your arms
Knowing your love has sated all of me.

Oh!my sweet,
you have
Allured me into your seasons
and became my
Revelation of love.
Let my frolic in the seasons of your emotions,
As I confess my love
for you...
to you...
in all seasons.

The Dance

Let me
take your hand
and
dance with you seductively
under the starlit skies
as
The full moon
envelops our bodies
with her radiance.

Let me
hear your voice
like that of an amourous ballad
set my soul ablaze.
Feel my fingertips

dance across
you...
seducing, igniting
as I avow my love for you.

Let me
kiss your sensual lips,
And let our tongues dance
in the rhythm of love.

My love…
dance with me under
the starlit skies...
Dance with me,
Forever.

A Mother

A mother is one who always:

Recognizes the ‘what’

Anticipates the ‘when’

Identifies the ‘where’

Understands the ‘why’


And sympathizes with the ‘how’.

Hold Me

Do not go and leave me here
Among the dreams that we once knew.
Do not kill the things that we had loved,
And the pleasure that was you.

Give me just the thought of you,
And all we might have been;
Let me hope that the love we had
Might somehow have its chance again.

Let me dream once more of Life,
Although I know it won’t be true;
Hold me just a moment more,
And let me taste the touch of you.

Two Hands

Two hands clasp in the darkness.
Two souls share an experience of life,
Witnessing love unfold before them.
Two mouths exchange endearments:
Words of love that vanish in the dark.
Two people walk under the pale moonlight.
Their love transcends the stars,
Their friendship never wavers.
A merged happiness:
Two as one,
Their lives intertwined,
If ever so slight,
Like the fingers of
Two hands in the night.

Down the Road

How often we fear the road up ahead,
How often we dread the unknown.
How often, too, do we tend to forget
That we never walk alone.

I understand now every misgiving,
For fear is a part of us all.
But, in faith, make each step firm and steady,
And darling, I won’t let you fall.

I am here, now, walking beside you
With a love that will never fail.
My arm about your shoulders,
My eye upon the trail.

Missing You

I have sketched the memory of you in my mind a thousand times.

Your radiance is as mesmerizing as the sunset on a summer’s eve...
as graceful as moonbeams dancing on the seashore...
and as pure as the first snow of winter.

Each flaming thought of you blisters the core of my soul.

Nights and days become lengthy and wearisome...

My sleep is fitful, and my eyes close only to see you,
lying beside me in my bed,
smiling in your sleep.

In the tranquility of the darkness your breath echoes in the chambers of my soul.

The presence of you filters through my bedroom,
and your fragrance permeates the air that encircles me.

Searching frantically amid the linens,
I only find my frigid and barren bedsheets.

I bury my face into your pillow and bewail.

However, my hope for tomorrow keeps me alive...
and safe...
and warm.

I Dance in You

Sometimes I close my eyes,
Hold my breath,
And try to hear you in the silence…

Your heart beating,
Your body breathing,
The wind whispering through your hair.

In the quiet moments,
When the world is still,
And my mind is at rest,
You come to me.

The ghost of your fingertips stroking my hand,
Your caresses, like whispers of distant memories,
Which I cannot name,
And cannot deny.

I can feel you
Flowing like a river beneath me...
Your breath
Soft as blessings upon my cheek.

And as a child in the warm rains of summer,
I dance in you.

A Mother's Love

There are times when only a Mother's love
Can understand our tears,
Can soothe our disappointments,
And calm all of our fears.

There are times when only a Mother's love
Can share the joy we feel
When something that we've dreamed about
Quite suddenly is real.

There are times when only a Mother's faith
Can help us along life's way,
And inspire in us the confidence
We need from day to day.

A Mother's heart and a Mother's faith
And a Mother's steadfast love
Were fashioned by the Angels
And sent from God above.

Mother's Day
12 May 2002

A Piece of the Night

Dreaming...
Running at a steady lope,
the night alive with sounds and scent.
Down hillside,
along stream’s dark bank,
pausing to drink the cold black water.
All shapes are gray.
I take a trail,
follow it for a time,
lose it,
try another.
My senses extend beyond my skull,
I hear the song the moon sings,
I am become a piece of the night.

Underwater

My beast makes me sigh so deep.

I never sighed so deep before.

She is teaching me her lore

beside, beneath the ocean's roar.

Perhaps we're creatures of the deep:

Profound, subaqueous, a school of two

who strayed away from their ocean lair

to a ground of animals

where

we gasped for water

instead of air.

Under the Willows

As leaves have fallen through the years
they faintly remember the joys, the tears,
of passing summers where lovers met:
Under the willows that silently wept.

Under the willow the grass was so green...
Children played in the cooling stream.
And laying upon the fragrant grass,
we dreamt of summers past.

Back to the days so young, so free,
when I thought time would remain with me.
But now I await the hour we'll meet:
Under the willows that silently weep.

Sleepytime Tea

Flowers, grasses, petals and leaves
are good nepenthe for one who grieves.
Orange, black, yellow, rose:
These are the colors to conquer woes
(I suppose).
Chamomile cured Peter Rabbit
of his bad McGregor habit.
Flowers of passion, tilia too,
are an antidote for rue.
And lest the mixture seem to raw
add cap of skull and thorne of haw.
Boil water.
Let it steep.
Drink slow.
Drink deep.
Let go.
Benefits reap.
Lie down.
Go to sleep.

My Dying Prayer

Now I lay me down to sleep.
Tears upon my pillow seep.
If I should die before I wake
I pray my love my soul to take
and hold it gently to her breast
and lay my body down to rest.
When the nighttime slowly falls
and shadows dance upon the walls;
when the dewdrops slowly sneak
upon the snowy mountain peaks
put some flowers on my grave
so in the wind they'll gently wave.
Say goodbye to me, and sleep.
Our memories forever keep.