Tax Day

Nothing hits you quite like a big shock to the wallet.  No big tax benefit for yours truly.  Just on the fringe of the upper percentages, the biggest impact was thousands of dollars into the AMT pothole.

Where the hell is the outrage about the tax benefits for the very wealth and the fact that Tramp has never released  his tax statements?  What other politician would get away with that?  And only because he doesn’t give a shit what normal people think about him.

I’ve had this idea for years as a form or protest – first to Regan, then Bush Sr, and definitely to Bush the lesser.  What if we all filed our returns on time, meeting the legal requirement, BUT DON’T PAY ANYTHING.  Let them come after millions of us.  And in the meantime see how they can spin that as anything other that a popular uprising against what a mess the government has come to be.

And I blame the do-nothing-but-bend-over Democrats as much as anyone.  Politics as usual is getting us into an awful situation with the economy, the environment, peace, and just pure decency.

I just wish I had the guts to do it.

fair weather golfer

The sun is shining.  80+ degrees with slight wind from the south.  No humidity.  A perfect day after a long, cold, winter and a spring that sputtered but never really started.   Nice enough that yesterday I picked up my golf sticks for the first time in many years.  Other than a couple of rounds at various clubs, it has been over 50 years since I was a player in college with a 9 handicap.

Aside- I’m not going to my 50th reunion after all.   I think that’s my final decision, but I won’t swear to it.

But I’m really excited about golf because we just joined a country club where I can play.  I resisted this for 50 years for various reasons, many forgotten and many silly in hindsight.   I grew up in a country club environment/family, and I finally decided that it would be good for my youngest daughter to have that experience.  I don’t know how my older daughters will feel about that, but apologies in advance if necessary.

I went to the driving range at the club with full expectation that I would embarrass myself.  Late morning, there would only be other old duffers like myself.  That was true, but much to my surprise I wasn’t half bad.  Maybe it was the stiff back and the gimpy knees that kept my swing from doing the stupid things it used to do.  I had watched hours of the Masters last weekend and noticed that the old guys – Nicklaus and Watson and Player – all had modified their swings with age and still managed to hit a ball straight and pretty far.   I’ll be damned if I didn’t do the same for most of a bucket of practice balls.

Now the real test will be to tee it up on the first tee and swing away.