Friday, October 31, 2008

Friday Soapbox: Tax Relief for Women

There has been so much talk about socialism in these last days of the Presidential race you’d think it was a dirty word. But, the U.S. has many allies which embrace its close cousin; social democracy. England is a social democracy. So are Sweden, France, Germany, Italy and Australia, too. This does not mean that it would be the right thing for money-loving capitalist pigs like us but, we might just learn a thing or two by seeking to raise the standard of living for those with the greatest need. Case in point: Both Presidential candidates claim to be for working families. But so far neither has offered any help for the unmarried childless woman. Since women still routinely make 75% for every dollar men make for doing the same job (otherwise known as the gender pay gap), any woman who is childless and unmarried and without a trust fund or substantial investments (100k or more) including real estate, or other valuable assets or unlikely to inherit such, should pay lower taxes than their married counterparts. Furthermore, any childless woman over the age of 60 should get an immediate tax refund for all the monies they paid into the system during their childbearing years. They helped pay for the education of children they never had and the basic upkeep of infrastructure like roads, bridges, etc their non-existent children will never use. And since they do not stand to have any financial protection or help from offspring they are particularly vulnerable in their later years. It goes without saying that after the wealthy and very wealthy, working families need tax relief the very least of anyone. After all it could be argued that they have the benefit of the love and care of spouse and children whereas single adult women do not have any of the same protection. They are on their own. They don’t have the same social network as married women with children do and they don’t have the same interdependent relationships with other parents that foster bartering or free help in times of need. Put plainly, it is poor and middle-class single adult childless women who are bearing more than their fair share of the burden for the rest of society. Lest you think that such an idea would send childless couples into divorce court in droves in order to save a bit of cash from the taxman, the provision for tax relief for single childless women needn't be so enormous that it engenders envy from smug married couples. But, make it something not too small, either. Twenty percent less seems about right. And as for the refund? How about ten percent of the average tax paid paid over the past thirty years? It's time to give something back to working women who've earned their day in the sun.

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Some of My Best Friends Are....

Even in the best of times it's hard to find anyone in New York City who admits to having any Republican friends. But nowadays? Fuggedaboudit. In the ever-rising wave of The Year of Obamalove, many Dems are all but proclaiming victory for their candidate. But the real dirty little secret no one wants anyone to know is how many of us have Republicans in our own families. Crazy, I know, but true. What can one do but keep deleting the Internet-sourced e-mails that tell us that Obama is a socialist-leaning, terrorist-loving Muslim who is not even sure he was born in this country? We can fight fire with fire and send them the YouTube videos of the best gaffs of John McCain but that tactic seems so very...Republican.  Instead we sigh and chalk it all up to an undiagnosed brain disorder. It's the only plausible explanation we tell ourselves. They used to be so much fun.  They painted pictures, they played guitar and sang songs. They danced naked down the hallway playing air guitar to Jimi Hendrix. What the hell happened to them once they moved out to the suburbs? We wonder. Is it the isolationism of commuting by car? Is it the lousy restaurants? The short bubble jackets? The answer eludes us. Then we remember back to Christmas Eve 1969 when they told us that Santa Claus didn't exist. We were too young to be told such a terrible thing. Immediately estranged from our own parents, and untrusting of the older sibling who had broken the news, the line in the sand was drawn. The world was irrevocably divided into those who spoil things for no reason other than to be cruel and those who would keep looking for beauty and magic and free stuff  for the rest of their lives. 

Friday, October 17, 2008

Feelin' Ungroovy

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It's always been my contention that the only thing stiffer than Republican rhetoric is the hairdos on their women. Now I know what it feels like first hand.
Hey! Back off with that cigarette, mister! Whaddaya want? A nucuulaar explosion?! Geez!

Thursday, October 16, 2008

What's This?!

That's what I've been asking myself so many times this Fall. There are many things I do not understand. Here are just two: What's this? Number 1: was the speech by the ever-elegant Ice Queen, Cindy McCain at the Republican National Convention in which she stated to a nearly all-white audience: "This convention celebrates a special and exceptional Republican Party and the hand we feel on our shoulder is Abraham Lincoln's. Our country was born amidst the struggle for freedom and our party arose from a grand battle for human rights, dignity and equity for all people. We give way to no one and no other party in that cause." Note to Cindy: There is a reason the RNC was nearly an all-white affair: It's because black people don't trust you, your husband or your party. And using your friend Ernestine, a survivor of the atrocities in Rwanda who was in the audience to further your myth of the Republican crusade on behalf of the downtrodden and mistreated: "...She was made to watch appalling horrors..." ( The RNC audience actually clapped right after she said this like it was a good thing to be made to watch appalling horrors) was a new low for a politician's wife. What's this? Number 2: This linen-wrapped little creature with the buggly eyes looks to me like it might bite. At the same time it allowed itself to be snuggled up in fabric and have its photo taken. Anyone who can explain either of these mysteries wins a one-year free subscription to the Gamoo. (Actually, anyone can already have a free subscription.)

Friday, October 10, 2008

Ooopsie Daisy!

Did John McCain really call Americans, "My fellow prisoners?!" 
Why, he's even funnier than Ronald Regan!

Thursday, October 2, 2008

Rest in Music

I went to a funeral today. I sat behind Carl Bernstein and looked through sides of the lenses of his glasses wondering what it's like to need such a strong prescription and wondering too, what happens when he can't find his glasses. People who wear glasses seem to lose them a lot. Then I regarded Bernstein's ears while the eulogies -all sixteen of them- were given. As far as ears go, they weren't bad. Just thought you ought to know. I have an entire movie in my head of Carl Bernstein looking for his glasses in his rather nice apartment. So, if you don't want me making mind movies during your funeral I suggest that you do not have sixteen people get up to speak. Play more music instead. One thing I did tune in for was that one of the favorite songs of the very interesting deceased person we were there to honor was, People Will Say We're in Love. You can listen to it on my playlist below. Here are the lyrics:
Don't throw bouquets at me Don't please my folks too much Don't laugh at my jokes too much People will say we're in love! Don't sigh and gaze at me Your sighs are so like mine Your eyes mustn't glow like mine People will say we're in love! Don't start collecting things Give me my rose and my glove. Sweetheart they're suspecting things People will say we're in love. Don't praise my charm too much Don't look so vain with me Don't stand in the rain with me People will say we're in love! Don't take my arm too much Don't keep your hand in mine Your hand feels so grand in mine People will say we're in love! Don't dance all night with me Till the stars fade from above. They'll see it's alright with me People will say we're in love.
Say you are dead and are somehow able to listen in on your own funeral. Which would be better: to listen to all the people you knew say nice stuff about you or to listen to some good music? If it's true that all angels play are harps, violins and trumpets I'd rather have two or three really excellent speakers and then a whole lot of amazing music. It might be the last I get to hear for a long time.