In the New Yorker...

[serious crayons]

I just saw a headline that the Social Security Administration is going to begin requiring in-person interviews to very the identity of new and current recipients.

I saw something about a guy who stopped getting checks because they claimed he was dead when he wasn't.

And if it doesn't affect us, it could very well affect your sons.

At least they've got some time to come up with another plan and they won't have spent their lives paying into the system.

But yes, if the nation collapses into an autocracy or kingdom or whatever lies ahead, I console myself that at least I don't have that much longer to live. But I worry about them. And they're straight, white, cis, middle-class men! I can only imagine what parents of other groups must feel.

[serious crayons]

SS was originally a way to create a fund that would serve as peoples' retirement monies, with their contributions augmented by matching funds from their employers.

When SS was enacted, 65 was beyond the average life expectancy. Now, of course, 65-year-olds often live another 30 or even 40 years and need money.

Meanwhile, to make matters worse, most employers stopped offering pensions in the 1990s, so people's retirement funds are much more at risk from market fluctuations, life events and their own spending discipline.

So, where will we get the funds to make up for what was lost when the SS money was siphoned off? That's easy...just tax the rich at the same rate as we tax the poor. I'm not saying that the rich should be penalized the way they do in Europe...just tax them at the same rate as everybody else. That will bring in all the funds needed to level the playing field, and more.

The problem is middle-class people's are taxed based on their employment income. Whereas the rich accumulate money through investments. They don't pay taxes on investment growth because, the argument goes, they don't get money from the government when their investments decline. But they're still getting richer.

Here's an article about the billionaires -- Bezos, Musk, Bloomberg, Soros, Icahn -- who've gone whole years without paying a cent of taxes. https://www.propublica.org/article/the-secret-irs-files-trove-of-never-before-seen-records-reveal-how-the-wealthiest-avoid-income-tax

Here's a song called "Over the Hill to the Poorhouse" about what aging was like before SS.

https://www.bartleby.com/lit-hub/the-worlds-best-poetry/over-the-hill-to-the-poor-house/

OVER the hill to the poor-house I ?m trudgin? my weary way?

I, a woman of seventy, and only a trifle gray?

I, who am smart an? chipper, for all the years I ?ve told,

As many another woman that ?s only half as old.

Over the hill to the poor-house?I can?t quite make it clear!

Over the hill to the poor-house?it seems so horrid queer!

Many a step I ?ve taken a-toilin? to and fro,

But this is a sort of journey I never thought to go.

What is the use of heapin? on me a pauper?s shame?

Am I lazy or crazy? am I blind or lame?

True, I am not so supple, nor yet so awful stout;

But charity ain?t no favor, if one can live without.

I am willin? and anxious an? ready any day

To work for a decent livin?, an? pay my honest way;

For I can earn my victuals, an? more too, I ?ll be bound,

If anybody only is willin? to have me round.

Once I was young an? han?some?I was, upon my soul?

Once my cheeks was roses, my eyes as black as coal;

And I can?t remember, in them days, of hearin? people say,

For any kind of a reason, that I was in their way.

?T ain?t no use of boastin?, or talkin? over free,

But many a house an? home was open then to me;

Many a han?some offer I had from likely men,

And nobody ever hinted that I was a burden then.

And when to John I was married, sure he was good and smart,

But he and all the neighbors would own I done my part;

For life was all before me, an? I was young an? strong,

And I worked the best that I could in tryin? to get along.

And so we worked together: and life was hard, but gay,

With now and then a baby for to cheer us on our way;

Till we had half a dozen, an? all growed clean an? neat,

An? went to school like others, an? had enough to eat.

So we worked for the child?rn, and raised ?em every one;

Worked for ?em summer and winter, just as we ought to ?ve done;

Only perhaps we humored ?em, which some good folks condemn,

But every couple?s child?rn ?s heap the best to them.

Strange how much we think of our blessed little ones!?

I ?d have died for my daughters, I ?d have died for my sons;

And God he made that rule of love; but when we ?re old and gray,

I ?ve noticed it sometimes somehow fails to work the other way.

Strange, another thing: when our boys an? girls was grown,

And when, exceptin? Charley, they ?d left us there alone;

When John he nearer an? nearer come, an? dearer seemed to be,

The Lord of Hosts he come one day an? took him away from me.

Still I was bound to struggle, an? never to cringe or fall?

Still I worked for Charley, for Charley was now my all;

And Charley was pretty good to me, with scarce a word or frown,

Till at last he went a-courtin?, and brought a wife from town.

She was somewhat dressy, an? hadn?t a pleasant smile?

She was quite conceity, and carried a heap o? style;

But if I ever tried to be friends, I did with her, I know;

But she was hard and proud, an? I couldn?t make it go.

She had an edication, an? that was good for her;

But when she twitted me on mine, ?t was carryin? things too fur;

An? I told her once, ?fore company (an? it almost made her sick),

That I never swallowed a grammar, or ?et a ?rithmetic.

So ?t was only a few days before the thing was done?

They was a family of themselves, and I another one;

And a very little cottage one family will do,

But I never have seen a house that was big enough for two.

An? I could never speak to suit her, never could please her eye,

An? it made me independent, an? then I didn?t try;

But I was terribly staggered, an? felt it like a blow,

When Charley turned ag?in me, an? told me I could go.

I went to live with Susan, but Susan?s house was small,

And she was always a-hintin? how snug it was for us all;

And what with her husband?s sisters, and what with child?rn three,

?T was easy to discover that there wasn?t room for me.

An? then I went to Thomas, the oldest son I ?ve got,

For Thomas?s buildings ?d cover the half of an acre lot;

But all the child?rn was on me?I couldn?t stand their sauce?

And Thomas said I needn?t think I was comin? there to boss.

An? then I wrote to Rebecca, my girl who lives out West,

And to Isaac, not far from her?some twenty miles at best;

And one of ?em said ?t was too warm there for any one so old,

And t? other had an opinion the climate was too cold.

So they have shirked and slighted me, an? shifted me about?

So they have well-nigh soured me, an? wore my old heart out;

But still I ?ve borne up pretty well, an? wasn?t much put down,

Till Charley went to the poor-master, an? put me on the town.

Over the hill to the poor-house?my child?rn dear, good by!

Many a night I ?ve watched you when only God was nigh;

And God ?ll judge between us; but I will al?ays pray

That you shall never suffer the half I do to-day.

[Front-Ranger]

.Thank you for adding more depth to this. People, rich, poor or otherwise, should be taxed on their income (well, profit, if you consider investments) with a "floor" below which poor people pay no tax. Capital gains is the type of tax we have to capture investment profits, no? It's been a while since I took Econ 101. But apparently there are a lot of loopholes in it and finding/using them is a big industry.

I am far from rich, but I pay little or no taxes. I try to make up for it by making donations to causes I support. I try to exceed the standard deduction every year, which seems to keep going up.

[serious crayons]

Yeah, I'm sure there are all kinds of ways to get the rich to pay more of their share. The big question is, why do people need to be so rich? If I had even $1 billion, let alone $400 billion Elon had before Tesla nosedived, I wouldn't know what to do with it except give it away. I couldn't possibly spend it on myself, wouldn't need to leave that much to my kids. If I had as little as, oh, a few million, I'd feel secure enough that I'd never have to think about it again. If I had more than that, I wouldn't sleep at night knowing how many people were suffering, starving, homeless, etc.

I think people like Elon and Trump see it as a game, a show of power that's ultimately as meaningless as winning at Monopoly.

[Front-Ranger]

I think people like Elon and Trump see it as a game, a show of power that's ultimately as meaningless as winning at Monopoly.

I think you have hit on something there. Games and sport are as war and power. Men, especially, are raised to be competitive, and with the ultra-rich, it is a multi-generational competition. Look in the background of most rich men and you'll find a little boy seeking approval from his father and everyone around him. This backfires though. Many rich people have a lot of enemies and are estranged from their families.

Getting back to TNY, I read the fiction by Joyce Carol Oates in the latest issue. Powerful work. It's about a middle-aged man who has an affair with his daughter's classmate.

[serious crayons]

An old high-school classmate/writer writes something almost every day called "Trumperick du Jour," generally told from Trump's POV. They're always really clever and often very scathing. Sometimes they require some thought. Here's one about a boy seeking approval from his father.

[Jeff Wrangler]

An old high-school classmate/writer writes something almost every day called "Trumperick du Jour," generally told from Trump's POV. They're always really clever and often very scathing. Sometimes they require some thought. Here's one about a boy seeking approval from his father.

That middle part is a limerick. 

[Jeff Wrangler]

I'm currently reading the March 17 issue article about the Irish Famine of the 1840's--which suddenly strikes me as an appropriate issue to publish that article because the cover date was St. Patrick's Day.

(So that's how far behind I am.  )

I may or may not have more to say when I finish the article. I'm sure thousands and thousands of Americans are at least aware of the famine because their ancestors came to the U.S. to escape it.

[Front-Ranger]

I actually have started rereading that article too. (Mention the word potato and I'm all over it.) What really got to me was where the author said the harvests were really good that year, of wheat, cattle, and other crops. But the wealthy, mostly British landowners wouldn't let the Irish have any of it. They were just supposed to eat potatoes. When that crop failed, the farmers, their families and the citizenry starved. 

[Jeff Wrangler]

I was interested to learn that the blight was not confined to Ireland. It was all over northern and western Europe. In the Netherlands (the Netherlands!) sixty thousand people died of starvation as a result of the blight.

I wonder where the fungus came from, and what's become of it?