I apologize if it seems a little harsh to bash a bestselling author so directly. Perhaps the Coke bottle lenses have betrayed him. Perhaps it was just an instance of the Maine public school system's world renowned math program rearing it's empty head. I'm from Maine, so I can say that. Before my classmates race to our home state's defense, I would like to remind them of the year we were taught geometry by people's moms and the fucking bus drivers. Go ahead. Try me.
Here's some math I learned by reading books (assumably not written in Maine;most assuredly not written by Stephen King):
Let's say the standard tax is 10% for everybody. It's not. Anyone lucky enough to get a raise should know well the pain of the government's dick burrowing further in your ass as a hearty congratulation for leaping into a new tax bracket. If you were unaware of different tax brackets, don't let me interrupt your JERSEY SHORE marathon.
Anyways…10% tax. That means for every dollar you make, you pay a dime to the government. Make ten dollars, you pay a dollar. Hundred bucks means you pay ten bucks, and so on. All the way up to that guy making a million bucks. He'd be paying the same tax you were. 10 cents for every dollar earned. Seems fair.
But not according to Stephen King or Obama. Listen close to any speech about taxes, and over and over again, Barack will say the wealthy should pay what's fair. Should pay a LARGER percentage of their earning because they make a LARGER amount of money. It made complete sense to a friend of mine when we had this talk.
"Of course the rich should pay more. They make more money."
When I threw out the 10% example, his eyes dulled a bit. No surprise. We went to the same school. The discussion slowly dissolved into a ping pong match about the government, and it always does. The United States (even the world) faces problems so deeply rooted into the ground, the air, the very nature of our existence, sometimes people start blaming some of the limbs for not providing enough shade, using too much water, hogging too much sunlight. But nobody wants to cut the fucking tree down, Because then nobody has the tree and we can't imagine living without it. Life without the tree would be like life without Hot Pockets. Hell on Earth.
When Stephen King bitches about not paying enough taxes, the natural response is to tell him he's more than welcome to throw in as much extra dough as will make him feel better. Apparently that Band-Aid is not enough to cover Stevie's boo boo. He wants everybody to pay, no, to WANT to pay as much as he WANTS to pay. King's idea of self-betterment is for everyone to give until it hurts. Too bad most of the pain threshold is being preoccupied with the aforementioned cock to the ass.
It's like going to dinner with that asshole who orders the 2000 Bordeaux to go along with his veal medallions while you and your friends get burgers and shakes. The bill comes and the asshole is the first to suggest you split the check evenly. You try to tell him that he's the one that ordered the expensive shit because he wanted it, but he balks because obviously true friends don't bicker over pennies. Everyone begrudgingly pays more because one person decided he needed to show off.
Fuck you and your veal medallions, King. I'm not paying for anything more than I need too. Hell, to take this analogy further, I'm being FORCED to pay for a hamburger deluxe at Uncle Sam's Bar and Grill whether I wanted the fucking thing or not. Very likely, I'll never even see the food I paid for because some asshole didn't bring any burger money, but looked hungry and probably needed it more than I did. I'll be lucky if I get a french fry.
That's okay, I tell myself. I've gained a couple pounds and don't need the hamburger anyways. My digestive system would only turn it to poop and then I'd have to figure out how to get it past that IRS penis I have lodged in my lower intestines.
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