Awaking in the middle of a prodigiously tough snore, and sitting up in bed to get his thoughts together, Donald had no occasion to be told that it was time for a Diet Coke. He often had as many as three during a night; but reaching into his bedside minifridge he found it quite bare.
“One thing,” he raged, “one thing I demand, is to keep this fridge stocked with my brown nectar!”
“Go back to bed,” the hair mumbled.
Donald pressed the button on his bedside table. Donald pulled the cord to ring his servant’s bell. Donald slapped the panic switch to summon his guards. Donald tipped back his head and yelled.
“OK, OK,” said his hat, “We’re all awake now.”
Donald got out of bed and straighten his Presidential pajamas and pulled on his Presidential robe and settled his hair upon his head and took up his grumbling hat.
“I’ll get to the bottom of this,” Donald said. “It is one thing to be plagued by dreams of a dead Naval aviator, it is quite another to be out of Diet Coke.” He opened the door of his bedroom and stepped out into the largest of his rooms.
But the sitting room was not as he had left it. The horrific red and gold and menacing spikes of Melania’s austere design was gone. It was instead decorated for a human Christmas, garlands of holly and twinkling lights. Gone was the blood-drenched tree devoid of ornaments. In its place stood a healthy green tree, fresh-cut, and done up with ribbons and light and bows, and those little hollow glass balls that he liked to crush underfoot. The empty clean lines of useless coffee tables to trip over in the night had been replaced with a proper table set with a proper feast: McNuggets, McGriddles, cartons of fries both small, medium and large, succulent Big Macs and Sausage Biscuits glistened in the twinkling lights and a mound of Quarter Pounders gleamed, And there, oh there, was row upon row of Diet Cokes, their waxy cups dense with condensation and straws standing at attention. Donald grabbed one up and greedily sucked.
A fire roared in the fireplace that had been cold for decades. A man looked around the highback of one of the chairs facing it and gave a hearty, “Hello!” and Donald gave a start. It was the shade of McCain again, Old McCain, last days McCain, cancerous and brain-addled. He was wearing a Santa costume and looked more than a bit drunk.
“And who are you?” Donald asked. “And what has happened to the uncomfortable room my wife had made?”
“I am the Spirit of Warboners Present!” said Santa McCain. “Look upon me!”
“John McCain in a Santa suit,” the hat said dryly. “A bony old lap for bad children everywhere.”
“You have never seen the like of me before!” exclaimed the Spirit.
“Never,” Donald made answer to it.
The Ghost of Warboners Present rose.
“Spirit,” said Donald wearily, “conduct me where you will. I went forth earlier on compulsion, and I learnt a lesson which is working now. If you have aught to teach me, let me profit by it.”
“Touch my robe!” said Santa McCain
Donald did as he was told, and held it fast.
The beautiful Christmas room with all it joy and bounty vanished instantly and they stood on wide streets lined with small identical houses with neat lawns. Each was decorated for Christmas simply, but gaily and the warm light of family life seemed to glow from every window.
“Where have you brought me, Spirit?” asked Donald.
“Do you not know it?” asked the reedy voice of Old McCain.
“I do not,” said Donald.
“It is one of the many examples of military base housing that you oversee as Commander in Chief.”
“Commander in Chief?” asked Donald in a confused tone.
“The President is Commander in Chief of the US military,” Donald’s hair said in a loud whisper.
“Come, witness what you have done!” said the Spirit.
Santa McCain touched Donald’s shoulder and the four of them flew forward into one of the base houses. Inside they found themselves in a living room dominated by a beautifully decorated tree surrounded with presents. Two children came running in, cheering, and fell down to their knees under the tree and began pointing to presents with their name on them. A man and a woman followed them, dressed in warm robes and slippers, arm-in-arm, smiling at the antics of the children. That sat down and the woman leaned against her husband and sighed contentedly. The children brought present from the tree and sat in front of their parents and tore them open with unbridled delight.
“Behold!” said the Spirit, “behold the terrors the flaccidity of your Warboner has wrought!”
“Terrors?” asked the hair.
“It looks pretty nice,” the hat said. “The mom could be hotter, but at least she isn’t a dependopotamus.”
“No!” said Santa McCain. “Home for Christmas? Not deployed? Not fighting? Not getting a Christmas meal served to them in a flyblown tent? This is not what the real meaning of Warboners is about! How can Donald fly over to some shithole in the middle of the night so he can ladle gravy and smile for reporters? How can he thank the troops for their sacrifice and pretend to keep them in his prayers?!?”
“The real meaning of Christmas is not being home for Christmas?” asked Donald timidly.
“Exactly!” the Spirit thundered. “Isn’t it better for every child to only see their mother or father when they are pranked into speaking at a school assembly and filmed as their deployed parent appears with no warning?”
“That’s fucking awful,” the hair said quietly.
“Having a fine and firm Warboner is about the celebration of sacrifice, little one,” Santa McCain. “Especially the sacrifice of people who aren’t you…”
“What else is there, Spirit?” asked Donald. “What other lessons can you teach?”
“Touch my robe once more!” the Spirit said.
Donald did and once again the scene changed abruptly. An opulent room appeared around them, done in red and gold, sturdy stainless steel wainscoting running around all the walls. Stark white stylized ceramic forest animals gamboled and played. A “tree” made from a haphazard bundle of aluminum spikes illuminated with dozens of piercing white halogens lamps suspended from the ceiling on bright bare wires dominated the room. It was blinding to look at, painful. Presents wrapped in red reflective mylar where impaled upon the spikes, like the victims of some Christmas shrike, and the bilious green of fake grass spikes bristled from the tree skirt, as warm and welcoming as a thousand adder’s fangs.
“Home!” cried Donald. “My true home in Trump, the mightiest of Towers.”
“I see Melania’s been decorating here too,” the hair muttered.
“Alphaville meets glitter dungeon,” the hat grumbled.
Melania walked in a gown the color of dried blood. Barron followed her, looking down at his cellphone and chanting a string of numbers under his breath.
“My wife,” said Donald, “and her son! I’m here, my darlings! I am home for Christmas.”
“They cannot hear you,” Santa McCain said gravely. “We are but unseen phantoms to them.”
“Hi, Melania!” Donald shouted, waving his hands in her face. “I’m here, my sugarplum. I’ve come home, my sexy Vampira!”
“You may open one present now, my little žlikrofi,” she said. “The rest must wait until your father is home.”
Barron’s face clouded over and turned red. He threw his cellphone against the wall and it shattered.
“I don’t want to wait!” the boy screamed. “I don’t want to! Why is he even coming here? I don’t want him here!”
“You must want for him!” Melania said, tearing at her carefully styled hair. “He has nothing else to do but spend Christmas with us.”
The boy dropped to the ground and hugged his knees tightly and began to rock back and forth. “But, why, Mother? Why?” said Barron in an anguished voice.
“He has no troops to visit, no addresses to the country to make,” said Melania. “He will have to be with us.”
“But, I’m here already!” Donald said. “I’m right here!”
“Ghosts,” the hat said tightly. “We’re just Ghosts.”
Donald turned to the Spirit of Warboners Present. “Oh, Spectre, Oh, Spirit, take me away from this awful place so that my wife and her child might know a Merry Christmas.
“Take my robe,” the Spirit said.
“But wait, I want to know where we are going,” asked the hat.
“We go to one of the saddest houses of them all…” said Santa McCain as Donald touched his hem.
Melania chrome nightmare faded around them and they found themselves in a busy kitchen, microwave and oven and stand-mixer all on, smoke detector blaring and a far-off keening wail rising in volume. A large woman ran to and fro, muttering a curse.
“Where have you brought me, oh Spirit?” Donald yelled over the smoke alarm.
“You will know it,” Santa McCain replied.
Soon the woman turned to them, flour-dusted and gravy-spattered. It was long-suffering Sarah, full of breast and hip and arm and leg and buttocks, who was scurrying in the smoke-filled room.
“Pie!” said Donald. “Hey! It’s Pie! Hey, Pie! Over here, Pie! Can you bring me a Diet Coke.”
“We are but phantoms…” Santa McCain began again.
“Just drop it, man,” the hat said. “He’s never going to get it.”
“SARAH!” came a cry from another room. Pie mopped her brow with the edge of her apron and left the kitchen. The ghostly foursome followed.
The living room was filled with Huckabees, each one fatter than the last, each in a bib with a bucket of food.
“Sarah, I need more gravy,” said one.
“Sarah, I need more ham,” said another.
“Sarah, all my ice is gone,” called her Father and two of her Uncles and one Nephew all covered in sticky marshmallow goo.
Sarah nodded and bowed and ran back to the kitchen and began to cry.
“It has been like this all day for her,” Santa McCain told Donald. “And it is all your fault.”
“My fault?” asked Donald, pushing the thought away with both hands. “How can this be my fault? I did not make them slop like hogs. I did not make Eve eat of the apple.”
“Your fault for not giving your press secretary a war to defend on television. Your fault for not bombing a village or a baby formula factory or a hospital to turn around your poll numbers,” Santa McCain scolded.
“My actions were always my own,” said Donald piteously. “I never thought of others. Oh, Spirit, you wound my soul with your horrors.”
“We can go home now, right?” asked the hat.
“Touch my robe,” said Santa McCain.
“This guy has sort of a thing for getting people to touch his robe,” the hair said.
“Robes are gay,” said the hat.
Donald and his hair and his hair found themselves back in their bell just as the churchyard bell began to toll three.
“One more ghost,” said the hair.
“It better be the last,” said the hat.
Donald fell forward into his bed and both of them dropped to the floor.
dependopotamus
ROFL
I had to look it up, must have come after I separated. The urban dictionary definition is worth a laugh too.
“A Dependapotamus, or Dependapotami (Plural), is the spouse of a military Service Member, whose symbiotic relationship is parasitic. These creatures seek to take advantage of the trusting nature of the more inexperienced Service Member by birthing live children to him, to establish a link that would be more work to be rid of than to simply keep. Often times, by bearing multiple children, the desire to flee from the parasitic clutches of the Harpy-like Dependapotamus is reduced to such a low that the Service Member simply settles for his misfortune, and does not leave. Typical behavior for Dependapotami is to sit at home, as they do not work (hence the dependency), smoke cigarettes bought with the SM (Service Member)’s pay, talk on a cellular phone (purchased by the SM), to other Dependapotami, whilst ignoring the children to whom she/it serves as “Caregiver.” Often, the Dependapotamus will sell the idea of not working or pursuing an education (High School being the highest level most achieve, though some are incapable of that, even) by claiming to “stay home with the kids.” These creatures of a negative symbiosis, or parasitism, are a blight to the military community, serving as horrible ambassadors to the rest of the United States, and in worst cases, the world. They are dramatic, loud, immature, obnoxious, freeloading, belligerent, unfaithful (where applicable, most are too unattractive to cheat), gossiping, wasteful, hateful, bigamous, and click-y.”
Mexican Sharpshooter provided me with the delightful vernacular.
Yeah, this is epic!
I know from from second hand experience that these exist. They also tend to acquaint themselves with military regulations regarding divorce and finances. Per the rules if a woman is married to a service member for ten years she is entitled to half his pay and half his pension check after the divorce. I’ve heard of several cases of divorce paperwork being filed on the 10th wedding anniversary.
First publicly observed during Gulf War I….the 300lbs woman with 3 sloppy kids crawling over her as she tells the TV talking head she can’t make ends meet with SPC Skinny not around to work pizza delivery after he is done for the day with soldiering. For contrast you would see former a Ms. Alabama or Georgia gently dabbing a tear, in her modest but immaculate home, worried about her F-16 pilot husband … who is so brave!
The Damn Few explains
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r0mSm8ioQ3c
I’ve had ring side seats for some doozies. Lots of women crazy on the order of the ‘hot teachers who bang their students’ (or in this case all his buddies). After being the worse wives you can imagine they either fall to pieces once he files for divorce or they decide to get even and accuse him of child/spousal abuse and file a restraining order.
In regard to fighter pilot wives…..yup, that’s spot on.
Base rats, yeah. You see them at every base.
Bad as the dependapotomus is, the officer’s wives who like to pretend like they have rank too are the fucking worst. When I was stuck on gate guard duty in Yuma, there was this one bitch who would throw an unholy fit if one of us didn’t salute her car. “IT HAS A BLUE STICKER!!!!” Bitch, I know goddamned well that you’re not a Marine, stick your salute up your ass.
The actual law is that at ten years, they are entitled to receive a check from DFAS, rather than the spouse. They are only supposed to be entitled to half the pension that was accrued during the marriage, but most courts don’t execute the calculation properly.
i.e. If married for 10, and 20 year retirement, only entitled to 25% of pension.
That’s right, I sometimes forget the details.
/Not married/bad at girls/at least smart enough to have never gone the dependapotomus route
It probably gets boring to be praised so much, but
“It looks pretty nice,” the hat said. “The mom could be hotter, but at least she isn’t a dependopotamus.”
had me giggling like a small child.
Well done.
“This guy has sort of a thing for getting people to touch his robe,” the hair said.
Like me, basically.
AND BY ROBE MEAN….
He keeps it hanging in the back of the van.
“We go to one of the saddest houses of them all…” said Santa McCain as Donald touched his hem.
I was half expecting to end up in the Clinton abode.
Hillary, blackout drunk and sprawled across a settee, Bill somewhere in the Caribbean snorting powder from tweenage prostitute’s navel? Seems pretty festive.
It’s like Sugarfree can see the future.
*prays for redemption for us all*
“Having a fine and firm Warboner is about the celebration of sacrifice, little one,” Santa McCain. “Especially the sacrifice of people who aren’t you…”
It’s like you could read John McCains mind.
Like Sean….dependopotamus. Lol.
I actually became disoriented while reading this and momentarily forgot where I was. Bravo, SF.
Huh… I often have that happen when I am reading SugarFree. I am glad it isn’t just me.
How can Donald fly over to some shithole in the middle of the night so he can ladle gravy and smile for reporters? How can he thank the troops for their sacrifice and pretend to keep them in his prayers?!?
Snatched from today’s headlines!
Your fault for not bombing a village or a baby formula factory or a hospital to turn around your poll numbers
Fucking genius.
those little hollow glass balls that he liked to crush underfoot
Also brilliant.
I figured Donald would be more into watching his piss-hooker crush them.
Happy Holidays!
>> “A bony old lap for bad children everywhere.”
::childhood flashback::
*runs out of room, sobbing*
ALOL
>>Alphaville meets glitter dungeon
Ooh a Godard reference – and one of my favorite films.
Off topic.
I guess this is one article I don’t need to write.
https://www.brewersfriend.com/brewing-for-beginners/?utm_source=Brewer%27s+Friend+Members&utm_campaign=15c814a5ea-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2018_12_11_04_28&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_198540b0cc-15c814a5ea-9382229
Which reminds me… with BrewToad shutting down, I’m going to need to decide on a new brewing software. I’ve already downloaded the recipes, but I still need to verify the download was successful.
Paper and pencil?
Excel?
Stylus and clay tablet – in Cuneiform. Lasts longer that way.
But much harder to edit on the fly.
If the fly survives holding up the clay tablet, run. Run very far away.
There’s some spreadsheets that are already built, and most of the math is pretty straightforward. I’d need to look up the calculations for SRM (which isn’t that important, and usually off anyway), and IBU’s (kind of important, but also usually off on the homebrew scale). Really, I just need a way to read the BeerXML files.
If I recall correctly, you are familiar and/or own it, but this is the point where I plug Designing Great Beers. Best homebrew recipe book containing exactly zero recipes.
Familiar, that one I don’t own. It’s in the backlog of books.
Speaking of, the DogHouse hotel at BrewDog has a collection of BA books in the rooms. And based on what we were told last weekend, they’re booked through all of next year.
I’ve used Beersmith with great success. You do have to be careful as you fiddle with settings and data to kind of ground truth the numbers it gives you, though.
How I learned:
http://howtobrew.com/
“The Ghost of Warboners Present rose.”
Genius
Speaking of which, if criminal justice reform passes (which seems likely now) and Trump follows through on his announcement to withdraw troops from Syria, Rand Paul will be the most consequential and effective libertarian politician in history. Which makes his libertarian critics look so much more petty and insignificant. Probably because they are. But, hey, Uber and food trucks are just as important as ending overseas conflicts and reforming the prison system, said no one ever.
^Hear, hear!!^ In some ways I think he has earned the title “Trump-whisperer”
This
Ken White can suck it.
But he’s bringing the office into disrepute, just when things are turning around!
*Added Bonus.
Ending overseas conflicts doesn’t win you a seat at the cool kids’ press table, so what’s really the point?
I’ve honestly fallen in love with Rand Paul. I use to be milquetoast on him, especially after the squish positions he took during the presidential primary, but he really doesn’t benefit in any way from working with Trump to get these actions enacted. The man is just as principled as his father and the arguments against him now ring utterly hollow.
Rand cares about making an impact in any way he can. He got over all the petty insults Trump threw his way, rolled up his shirt sleeves and got to work to do everything within his power to advance the cause of liberty. He’s the 21st century Cato as far as I’m concerned.
This. When Trump is pointed in the right direction, he’s right up front supporting him, and calling him out when he ain’t.
But he doesn’t #RESIST so cunts like Julian Sanchez and Nick Gillespie will throw snide insults at him.
If libertarian in-fighting could be divided as between the Pauls and their allies and the Koch network, the Pauls have won in a resounding way (granted, this is an oversimplification, but somewhat true). I don’t know how anyone can argue otherwise.
You can piss and moan and endorse moderate policies and moderate candidates that won’t win election and won’t do anything of significant value, like the Gillespies and Sanchezs of the world or you can actually win election and enact beneficial policy that will have a real world impact, like the Pauls.
He’s not only principled, but he also chooses his battles very wisely. This is an incredibly rare combination.
I’d imagine he took squish positions in the presidential race for the same reason he’s willing to treat with Trump – he has good political acumen and recognizes that it takes a certain amount of compromise in order to get things done (politics is the art of the possible, after all). Politics is a dirty business, and it takes getting a bit of grime on you to accomplish something good in it – the unsullied man usually has the least to show for his labors.
While it may be a practical necessity of legislating, squish positions do not motivate the electorate.
I think he was trying to broaden his appeal across the right side of the spectrum. He had to play up his conservative cred (especially in the primaries) because he knew some of his positions were too quirky for your average low-info socon voter. I don’t see this as being unprincipled because it wasn’t that he flipped on anything he just softened some of his stances and was trying to be prudent in not saying definitely what he would do in a hypothetical situation (because that’s kinda stupid and a good way to discredit yourself). As UCS points out, in hind sight it was probably a bad strategy, however it doesn’t warrant the disowning he’s gotten from so many.
Also the R primary debates were a shitshow where he was (intentionally) never allowed his ‘Juliani moment’ because the MSM was to busy trying to get sound-bites of Trumps grade school insults.
I think some people (not everyone, of course) weren’t comfortable supporting a member of a major party, especially the Republicans who libertarians often get lumped in with, and were overjoyed to have an excuse to tell compromisers in their ranks that they told them so. There was schadenfreude involved, I think, and maybe a touch of sour grapes. Not everyone, of course, but some, I think.
Sure. There is a huge swath of ostensible ‘pox on both houses libertarians’ that hate the Paul’s for being on Team R. And of course there are shit loads of left-libertarians that go through all sorts of metal gymnastics to convince themselves they would be more free under HRC than Rand fucking Paul.
It would be interesting if Paul challenged Trump in the primary this time around.
I think everyone else of note will stay away.
I think there’s a difference between being a squish and being willing to negotiate. A squish always seemed to me to be someone willing to give in to the other side, at least partially, without really having anything that they wanted in return.
Rand understands that Trump is transactional. Everything is a negotiating position with him.
1000% agreed. I think there’s a great inside baseball debate to be had over the relative merits of sticking to your principled guns or compromising selectively, or on incrementalism versus moon-shots. Practically, however, ideologues might move the framework of the discussion over time, but it’s the dirty, impure compromisers who are willing to work with people they don’t like or accept half of what they want rather than none of it who actually make a difference. I believe that, absent complete, totalitarian dictatorship, if you want to move towards your broadly-held principles you have to be willing to bend on some of the specific manifestations of those principles. You concede some battles in order to win the overall war, in other words.
Yep. The issue is just…..we never actually get the needle moved.
Like with healthcare, it’s not like we trade Medicaid expansion for a federal ban on certificate of need laws. On guns, I don’t get to trade bump stops for a repeal of the Hughes Amendment.
I am very willing to compromise. But compromise means I get something from my list, and they get something from theirs. Not they get one thing off their list and the compromise is that they don’t get both.
With the statists, its like some sick fuck parent going “Well I was going to get your brother two presents, but I only got him one. That’s why you didn’t get a present.”
“But what if we both got a present?”
“No that’s being an extremist ideologue, you have to compromise!”
. . . compromise means I get something from my list, and they get something from theirs. Not they get one thing off their list and the compromise is that they don’t get both.
Effin’ A! I have tried to explain this concept to one sister-in-law in particular, but because she’s convinced that the Overton Window hasn’t moved leftward since WWII, all compromise must mean only moving further left on an issue. We’re already jammed up against an immovable wall on the right! If we stay there, all of humanity is doomed! DOOOOOOOOOOMED!!!
That is the exact kind of compromise I can get behind.
I think there’s a great inside baseball debate to be had over the relative merits of sticking to your principled guns or compromising selectively, or on incrementalism versus moon-shots.
If Paul’s critics were mostly libertarian hardliners who bristled at any deviation from libertarian orthodoxy, I could respect that position, even if I disagreed. But, honestly, that’s not usually the impression I get. My impression is that they are mostly equally willing to break libertarian ranks on some issues, often much more than Paul. They just have their own particular set of issues (usually progressive) that they’re willing to break ranks on.
The hardliners rarely care about politicians, in general. And while they may pay a passing compliment to a Paul, Massie, or Amash they mainly see all politics as a distraction.
Paul’s critics are usually of the Gary Johnson variety. Which I would say is profoundly less principled than Rand.
I realize all this is a strawman, so let’s just use Brink Lindsey as an example. Lindsey is best known for supporting nearly every American overseas intervention since the 90’s. And yet he has written countless articles denouncing Ron and Rand as baddies (his argument always revolves around the fact that Rothbard and Ron Paul in the 90’s supported Pat Buchanan’s presidency).
I take it I’m not the only one getting bugged by this.
If you don’t film it on your phone and put it on Facebook, did they really even miss their loved ones at all?
Bonus points if you hold the phone vertically while filming.
It’s stupid and self-aggrandizing. If it’s a big emotional event I tend to think it should happen privately. How much do you really care about your kids if you need a crowd to cheer you on at the reunion?
It’s every fucking private moment that is converted into a public spectacle. Proposals and re-uniting military families are at the top of the list.
*frowns, deletes video of first rubber-band hemorrhoidectomy*
Rule 34 says you should monetize that, Mr. Goatse.
Just so long as I still get to see the “soldier reunites with their dog” videos.
Same here. My fave was the one where the big dog just knocked the solder down and laid on her, presumably in order to prevent her from leaving again.
Yeah, dog videos deserve an exemption.
It’s hard to see them though. Every time I watch one of those they get all blurry inside of like 20 seconds or so. It’s the weirdest thing.
No you are not.
Another great read, do we have to wait til Christmas for the next one?
OT: Hearkening back to the envy discussion on the previous post, maybe someone could write a philosophy post on envy? (Not me.)
I leave the philosophizing to smart people.
/Jack
My Jack?
“I leave the philosophizing to smart guys like Lenny,” is a line of dialog from my book ‘Shadowboy’ spoken by the character Jack. He isn’t stupid, but he does have a very childlike personality and doesn’t want to get into the weeds with philosophy.
One of my favorite characters in any series.
Really.
Any good commentary on the 10th Commandment would do. It is the least obvious, most ignored, and maybe the most important Commandment.
And perhaps how envy is linked to pride and perhaps sloth. Any discussion I have with myself comes down to, “Am I just lazy?” I don’t know the answer to that. I feel like I’m too busy hauling water to dig a well.
I think that would be terrific.
Why not you?
I may not be able to be as objective about it as I’d like.
That may actually make it more compelling.
This guy, listen to him.
I’d give it a shot maybe……..the hard part is I’m not a very good writer and I end up rewriting articles over and over and still end up dissatisfied with the result. Such a topic is probably better off with one of the more articulate Glibs.
Such a topic is probably better off with one of the more articulate Glibs.
Welp, I’m out.
“Such a topic is probably better off with one of the more articulate Glibs.”
Well you had to get racist.
I don’t think I could handle it… it doesn’t involve alcohol or gaming. Although it could be related to the way some players have a tendency to attack the leader in a game instead of improving their own position (in non-conflict games), or decide who they’re going to help win at their own detriment (kingmaking), or how people behave in anonymous vs. reputational negotiation games…
Yeay! Got my bonus check today
Booo! Government took 36% as a bonus for itself
Bonus? What madness is this? Evil capitalist pigdogs would never pay anyone more than the bare minimum mandated by law.
Plus, you didn’t earn that.
/prog
Enjoy your crumbs!
We had a company division that got different bonus checks than the other parts of the company. They made a lot of money, the bonus checks were huge.
Well it turns out the division was poorly managed and sales have taken a big nosedive. Their big bonus checks disappeared. But guess what? My bonus check also took a hit because of their mismanagement. I’m still trying to figure out the logic of that…
::shrugs:: I guess that’s why I could never get into a management position.
We had a great SVP who’s philosophy was that if he gave a $1000 bonus, that was what you got. He would gross it up until the employee actually got $1000 out of it. He got caught banging one of the other VPs (both married) in the office. Still miss that guy.
Have you told your wife yet?
I get a
$100~$60 bonus every year.I still don’t understand why bonuses are taxed at a higher rate
The shouldn’t be; they are just ordinary income like your regular paychecks.
Some states *cough*Commiefornia*cough* tax bonuses at a different, punitive rate.
Well of course, they need that money more then the employee. Besides, he still gets to take home more money so he should be grateful for the
crumbsleftovers the state lets them take.Sometimes, if the bonus is issued as part of a regular paycheck, it will kick you into a higher tax bracket for that particular check.
Yes. When I was paid monthly, my withholdings were at a higher percentage than if I had been paid every 2 weeks.
This
I thought it was because it’s the end of the year so you’re in your highest tax bracket.
I’m a selfless public servant. We are too principled and self-sacrificial to take a Christmas bonus from the tax payers. Instead we basically get dismissed from ‘work’ for two weeks without having to take any vacation time and have to settle for our plain old bloated benefits and paycheck. It’s hard serving the people.
/My principles are in conflict with my profession
Seppuku is the only answer
You can disembowel yourself if you like, Scruffy. I’m going to stick to my stance that my job is a job. I will continue to advocate policies which cna result in that job going away, but I’m not going to feel guilty about remuneration for my efforts.
Now, I have to go and break PeopleSoft.
Just like a government worker, do something that’s already done.
Wait, did you think I was advocating that course of action for myself? No way man.
I’m totally about the “Consistency is the hobgoblin of small minds.”
. . . I have to go and break PeopleSoft.
Always a worthy endeavour. A shame there’s no way to break its company permanently.
*eyes letter opener……thinks better of it*
What’s wrong with pulling a Budd Dwyer?
maybe someone could write a philosophy post on envy? (Not me.)
Envy is bad.
The End
https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0326856/
4.8/10
Are jealousy and envy the same?
No. Envy is when you want what others have. Jealousy is when someone wants what you have and you’re being territorial.
So is jealousy moral and envy immoral?
I see jealousy as a byproduct of fear. Fear is not immoral.
Is envy bad in and of itself?
In Christianity (I don’t know about other religions), envy is a sin. It’s the 10th commandment, one of the 7 deadly mortal sins.
My musing is not that of sinfulness/morality, but how it affects one’s life and soul. So say it’s not a sin. It’s still bad for you, like swallowing poison.
What if envy drives you to achieve more?
Achieve what? More stuff? Enlightenment?
I’m pretty sure envy is generally regarded as an impediment to truth.
I’m pretty sure envy is generally regarded as an impediment to truth.-
I haven’t heard that. I must read more.
This is the dichotomy I find myself living with:
On the one hand, it does make me to strive for more and I get better, more, what I want (although sometimes you have to be careful what you wish for), etc. The big flaw there is I don’t look back to see what I have achieved. I only look at what I haven’t (which is a personality flaw).
On the other hand, I get bitter when I’m not hitting my goals and resentful of people who ARE achieving their goals or have. The big flaw there is I don’t know what they are struggling with.
Well, there’s a reason it made the seven deadly list.
I found this when searching Tundra’s quote.
https://mises.org/library/appeasing-envy
I only look at what I haven’t (which is a personality flaw).
I think that’s pretty normal.
I always tell my kids that goals are great, but becoming too invested in the outcome will almost certainly torpedo them. Do the right things, focus on the the process and let the chips fall.
It’s hard to do that, though.
I’m not sure if seeing what others have and wanting the same /kind/ of things for yourself is bad. That’s aspiration and desire and I think is good.
And I distinguish between that and wanting what the other person has exactly. To dust off the word covet since we’re bringing up 10 commandments, that’s where coveting comes in. Where you want what they have to the point you think they shouldn’t have it. That i think is where the evil comes in.
I don’t look back to see what I have achieved.-
I find making improvements is the goal and it is never reached. It’s aspirational, not achievable. I’ve heard Christians describe leading a Christ like life that way.
I would say no. Not in and of itself. Oftentimes, wanting what others have is the impetus for us to strive to improve ourselves or to go after things that we may want. For example, if I see someone who is in shape and I’m envious of them about it, it’s a good thing if its the reason I go back to the gym and start working out. If I am envious of another person who gets a promotion, it’s a good thing if it gets me to push myself a little harder. Of course it’s a terrible thing if it makes me bitter about the other person or want their achievement itself.
Part of the problem is that I think the term “envy” is too general a term. Wanting what other people have is so broad a notion that it can capture healthy ambition as well as resentful ill will.
To dust off the word covet since we’re bringing up 10 commandments, that’s where coveting comes in.
Thank you, Creosote. That was exactly what I was trying to get at.
Okay, so we have envy, jealousy, and covetousness.
I’mma have to think on this a while.
So is jealousy moral and envy immoral?
Interesting question. I would argue that jealousy can be appropriate, but for me it’s otherwise morally ambiguous.
I think it is accepted that protecting one’s property is moral, but what of a lover? They have a will of their own.
I’ve always thought of envy as when you want what someone else has, but don’t want to take the other person’s thing. Jealousy is when you want what they have and don’t want them to have it.
Interesting. So if I was jealous of another man’s hot wife, but I don’t want to deal with her BS?
Just ask to borrow her for a sec.
Be prepared for him to say yes though.
There’s an old motorcycle saying, “You can ask to borrow my wife before asking to borrow my bike. At least you can’t crash her.”
I like my new workplace. It’s small and family owned and I have a no shit office with a window and a door. The people are nice, and the pace is easy.
but the Christmas party for the office is today and people have their kids here and the kids are running up and down the hall outside.
Gather them in your office and read a few Hat and Hair episodes for the little tykes.
Tundra is wise.
Unattended children? I smell an “orphan” windfall.
Or how much caffeine and sugar do you have access to? Provide it all to the children.
Profits vs evil: a libertarian dilemma
Chocolate dipped espresso beans for the young ones, then send them back to the parents,=.
I keep some of them in my desk drawer.
Yummy.
Unattended children will be given candy and kittens.
I’ve seen that as espresso and puppies.
Espresso and a free kitten
My wife would be elbowing the kids out of the way to get to the kittens.
At quitting time this may be my strategy…
Close the door?
In Christianity (I don’t know about other religions), envy is a sin. It’s the 10th commandment, one of the 7 deadly mortal sins.
I think envy is inextricably entwined with self-pity.
It is inevitably negative and self destructive.
LOL.
I just got a call on my cell phone with a prerecorded message.
Apparently, the SSA is going to “suspend my social security number because it’s been involved in criminal activity and I should press 1 to talk to an officer.”
Woo hoo, I don’t have to pay SS taxes anymore.
I will admit to watching youtube videos of people pranking these scammers and finding them amusing.
I would never admit to wardialing a bunch of pagers with one of those scammers numbers (back in the day when people used pagers, and ANI spoofing wasn’t the norm).
Back when I had access to a programmable telco switch I considered writing an application to flood dial the local rock station during their call-in contests. I got as far as testing it, turns out the local time-and-temp number has 20 or so incoming lines.
People are looking at me. I’m sitting at a bar and I keep bursting out in laughter.
People are looking at me. I’m sitting at a bar and I keep bursting out in laughter.
Tell the envious bastards to mind their own beeswax.
Holy shit, I know this is a dead thread, but this installment literally had me laughing out loud. Well done!
A thread is never dead it is just resting
That column on the right hand side of the front page is a handy thing.