The Tax Man Cometh

Binding Ink Labels: , , , , , ,
grim reaper

What Happened?

At first I thought this was funny...then I realized the awful truth of it. Be sure to read all the way to the end!

Tax his land,
Tax his bed,
Tax the table
At which he's fed.

Tax his tractor,
Tax his mule,
Teach him taxes
Are the rule.

Tax his cow,
Tax his goat,
Tax his pants,
Tax his coat.
Tax his ties, irs tie
Tax his shirt,
Tax his work,
Tax his dirt.

Tax his tobacco,
Tax his drink,
Tax him if he
Tries to think.

Tax his cigars,
Tax his beers,
If he cries, then
Tax his tears.

Tax his car,
Tax his gas,
Find other ways
To tax his assdonkey
Tax all he has
Then let him know
That you won't be done
Till he has no dough.

When he screams and hollers,
Then tax him some more,
Tax him till
He's good and sore.

Then tax his coffin,
Tax his grave,
Tax the sod in
Which he's laid.
Put these words
Upon his tomb,
"Taxes drove me
To my doom..."
flatbroke gravestone
When he's gone,
Do not relax,
Its time to apply
The inheritance tax.

Accounts Receivable Tax
Building Permit Tax
CDL license Tax
Cigarette Tax
Corporate Income Tax
Dog License Tax
Federal Income Tax
Federal Unemployment Tax (FUTA)
Fishing License Tax
Food License Tax
Fuel permit tax
Gasoline Tax (42 cents per gallon)
Hunting License Tax
Inheritance Tax
Interest expense
Inventory tax
IRS Interest Charges IRS Penalties (tax on top of tax)
Liquor Tax
Luxury Taxes
Marriage License Tax
Medicare Tax
Property Tax
Real Estate Tax
Room Tax
Service charge taxes
Social Security Tax
Road usage taxes irs check
Sales Tax
Recreational Vehicle Tax
School Tax
State Income Tax
State Unemployment Tax (SUTA)
Telephone federal excise tax
Telephone federal universal service fee tax
Telephone federal, state and local surcharge taxes
Telephone minimum usage surcharge tax
Telephone recurring and non-recurring charges tax
Telephone state and local tax
Telephone usage charge tax
Utility Taxes
Vehicle License Registration Tax
Vehicle Sales Tax
Watercraft registration Tax
Well Permit Tax
Workers Compensation Tax

Not one of these taxes existed 100 years ago, and our nation was the most prosperous in the world. We had absolutely no national debt, had the largest middle class in the world, and Mom stayed home to raise the kids.

Forwarded from on the internet somewhere:)

IRS

How Did You

Binding Ink Labels: , , , , , ,
Illustrations by Gordon Ross
How Did You Die? by 1Edmund Vance Cooke

Did you tackle that trouble that came your way
Edmund Vance Cooke PoemWith a resolute heart and cheerful?
Or hide your face from the light of day
With a craven soul and fearful?
Oh, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce,
Or a trouble is what you make it,
And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts,
But only how did you take it?

You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what's that?
Come up with a smiling face.
It's nothing against you to fall down flat,
But to lie there -- that's disgrace.
The harder you're thrown, why the higher you bounce;
Be proud of your blackened eye!
It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts,
It's how did you fight -- and why?

And though you be done to the death, what then?
If you battled the best you could,
If you played your part in the world of men,
Why, the Critic will call it good.
Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,
And whether he's slow or spry,
It isn't the fact that you're dead that counts,
But only how did you die?

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

1. Biography
"Edmund Vance Cooke, popularly known as "the poet laureate of childhood," was born on June 5, 1866, in Port Dover, Ontario, Canada. He began working at 13-14 years old for the White Sewing Machine Co. factory and stayed there for 14 years until he became a self-employed poet and lecturer in 1893. His first book of poems, A Patch of Pansies, came out the next year. Four years later, he married Lilith Castleberry; and they had five children. He published at least 16 books of verse, as well as other books, but he is best known for his poem "How Did You Die?" Once the Detroit News launched its radio station, WWJ, in 1920, Cooke broadcast his own poems. In this he pioneered a path that Edgar Guest was to take nationwide in the 1930s. Cooke died in Cleveland on December 18, 1932."

Impertinent poems By Edmund Vance Cooke

Frost Advisory

Binding Ink Labels: , , , , , ,
Honoring Robert Frost
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)

 My Butterfly by Robert Frost

THINE emulous fond flowers are dead, too,
And the daft sun-assaulter, he
That frighted thee so oft, is fled or dead:
Save only me
(Nor is it sad to thee!)
Save only me
There is none left to mourn thee in the fields.

The gray grass is not dappled with the snow;
Its two banks have not shut upon the river;
But it is long ago—
It seems forever—
Since first I saw thee glance,
With all the dazzling other ones,
In airy dalliance,
Precipitate in love,
Tossed, tangled, whirled and whirled above,
Like a limp rose-wreath in a fairy dance.

When that was, the soft mist
Of my regret hung not on all the land,
And I was glad for thee,
And glad for me, I wist.

Thou didst not know, who tottered, wandering on high,
That fate had made thee for the pleasure of the wind,
With those great careless wings,
Nor yet did I.

And there were other things:
It seemed God let thee flutter from his gentle clasp:
Then fearful he had let thee win
Too far beyond him to be gathered in,
Snatched thee, o’er eager, with ungentle grasp.

Ah! I remember me
How once conspiracy was rife
Against my life—
The languor of it and the dreaming fond;
Surging, the grasses dizzied me of thought, see LIFE 'In an English field Mr. Frost'
The breeze three odors brought,
And a gem-flower waved in a wand!

Then when I was distraught
And could not speak,
Sidelong, full on my cheek,
What should that reckless zephyr fling
But the wild touch of thy dye-dusty wing!

I found that wing broken to-day!
For thou are dead, I said,
And the strange birds say.
I found it with the withered leaves
Under the eaves.

Rare Robert Frost Collection Surfaces 50 Years After His Death, January 29, 2013; npr

Frost Collection

Life Magazine, March 30, 1962 - Robert Frost

Artificial Happiness

Binding Ink Labels: , , , , , , ,
Watching an old episode on C-SPAN 2 Book TV, the Author whom spoke about his latest book was awkwardly impassive. In addition, he bungled several words. Fortunately, the subject matter presented kept my attention. The book title, “Artificial Happiness” by Dr. Ronald W. Dworkin. Artificial happiness can be described as anti-depressants given by physicians, when perhaps unnecessary. Dependency on addicting substances. Or an excessive indulgency in various exercises to naturally enhance endorphins. Dr. Dworkin promptly made a distinction regarding clinical depression and unhappiness. Possibly the Author was anxious not to appear as another Tom Cruise - Scientologist, demoting psychology and psychiatry medication. Basically, clinical depression is long term and unhappiness is short term. Essentially, Dr. Ronald W. Dworkin depicted a woman, whom during an interpersonal relationship - wasn’t happy. Her physician treated her with Prozac. After a year on the medication, she did not become any happier. Understandably, she quit taking the pills. Still unhappy, she left her boyfriend. Asked if she wasn’t medicated a year ago, might she had left him? She answered, “Yes, and perhaps I may not have wasted a year of my life, in the process.

I am uncertain how enjoyable or helpful the book” Artificial Happiness” will or can be. Perchance another Reader will inform us if it’s worth a buy. I turned the channel when the Author began blaming any Religion for peoples’ insatiable desire for happiness. The main subject matter is what interests me, unhappiness. Most of us understand or can personally relate to the ingredients for artificial happiness. Narcotics, alcohol, or thrill search bungie jumping. Or merely, overindulging in a gallon of our favorite ice cream - topped with tons of whipped cream, eaten with a shovel! Or playing a sad song repeatedly. All are artificial happiness schemes. All, temporary emotional bandages. Whereas; short term unhappiness - treated by a SSRI, Tricyclic, or MAOI – are mostly inhibitors. The key word being inhibitors, they inhibit us from being happy. Why? Maybe because impermanent unhappiness is a necessary evil. There are times that emerge like an era, when we must grieve. Grieve for loss - loss of a loved one, loss of a job… There are days when hormones may kick and you must scream, cry… From Ecclesiastes:

For every thing there is a season, and a time for every purpose under the heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die;
A time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal;
A time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose;
A time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew;
A time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate;
A time of war, and a time of peace.

Or The Byrds Song:
To everything - turn, turn, turn
There is a season - turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven

A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep

To everything - turn, turn, turn
There is a season - turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven

A time to build up, a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones
A time to gather stones together

To everything - turn, turn, turn
There is a season - turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven

A time of war, a time of peace
A time of love, a time of hate
A time you may embrace
A time to refrain from embracing

To everything - turn, turn, turn
There is a season - turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven

A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rend, a time to sew
A time to love, a time to hate
A time of peace, I swear it's not too late!

The simple fact is, various famous-treasured poems, literature, songs, plays, movies, paintings… exists because there are moments of unhappiness in everyone’s’ life.

So, pass the ice cream!

Sign up to receive weekly emails about Book TV's programming schedule.

Cubical Human Rat Race

Binding Ink Labels: , , , , ,
Normal Is by Ellen Goodman
I remember many years ago when a Friend of mine’s Nephew died unexpectedly. Shortly afterwards, we had to sort and move his belongings to appease the Landlord for the next possible tenant. I also recall a Co-Worker stating she had to sort through her Brother’s personal items after he passed away recently. Wondering how and why he accumulated so much over the years, she immediately wanted to organize her own possessions. Venturing into the attic, etc. so Family Members wouldn’t have to; should anything happen to her. As for myself, I was no stranger to the accumulation monster. I knew the hideous creature well. An ogre, ‘once upon a time’; disguised merely as one seemingly innocent storage box. Soon an array of these homely cartons are tucked here, there, and everywhere. They are the swine hoarders of things placed out of sight and out of mind. Nonetheless; I had to face this demon when a 10 year relationship end some years ago. Following the once ignored property being divvied up, there still remained an amass of stuff. Apparently, the demon stuffer refused to die without a fight. However; exhausted, I just crammed the lid down on a few containers and duct-taped the other tops that wouldn’t cooperate. Then I spent the next year thinking more about those darn boxes than about my ended relationship. Realizing us human beings spend our life in some type of box as well. Embryos packaged inside a womb, cut umbilical cord individuals occupying four-sided residences; attendance at schools, churches, most places of employment… - all cubically constructed, and in the wrapping up - encased in a coffin or urn. Perhaps the monster was not the boxes after all, rather whom I had to concur was the pack rat dwelling inside myself. And so the orderliness commenced. Only this time I had to dig down into the cubical roots of my being. There, each item was liken a picture inside a huge photo album, imprinted in my mind with some negative and positive memories. The finale collage however; wasn’t so much the dispersed trash, rather the release of emotional baggage that had secretly been weighing me down for years; boxing me in. And so for all of you with boxes tucked here, there, and everywhere – may you find the inward strength to one day rise up in protest of such a baited rat trap! For once you do - as Bernard De Voto is accredited for saying, “The rat stops gnawing in the wood, the dungeon walls withdraw, the weight is lifted … your pulse steadies and the sun has found your heart, the day was not bad, the season has not been bad, there is sense and even promise in going on.”
Boomtown Rats - Rat Trap
There was a lot of rocking going on that night
Cruising time for the young, bright lights
Just down past the gasworks, by the meat factory door
The five lamp boys were coming on strong
The Saturday night city beat had already started and the
The pulse of the corner boys just sprang into action
And young Billy watched it under the yellow street light
And said "tonight of all nights there's gonna be a fight"

Billy don't like it living here in this town
He says traps have been sprung long before he was born
He says "hope bites the dust behind all the closed doors
And pus and grime ooze from its scab-crusted sores
There's screaming and crying in the high-rise blocks"
It's a rat trap, Billy, but you're already caught
And you can make it if you want to or you need it bad enough
You're young and good-looking and you're acting kind of tough
Anyway it's Saturday night, time to see what's going down
Put on a bright suit, Billy, head for the right side of town
It's only eight o'clock, but you're already bored
You don't know what it is, but there's got to be more
You'd better find a way out, hey, kick down that door
It's a rat trap, and you've been caught

In this town Billy says "everybody's trying to tell you what to do"
In this town Billy says "everybody says you gotta follow rules"
You walk up to the traffic lights
You switch from your left to your right
You push in that button, and that button comes alight
And it's
"Walk, don't walk, walk, don't walk
Talk, don't talk, talk, don't talk
Walk, don't walk, walk, don't walk
Talk, don't talk, talk, don't talk"
Hey, Billy, take a walk, take a walk, take a walk
Billy, take a walk, take a walk, take a walk
Billy, take a walk, take a walk, take a walk
Hey, Billy take a walk with me

Well, little Judy's trying to watch "Top of the Pops"
But mum and dad are fighting, don't they ever stop
She takes off her coat and walks down to the street
It's cold on that road, but it's got that home beat
Deep down in her pocket she finds 50p
Hey, is that any way for a young girl to be
"I'm gonna get out of school, work in some factory
Work all the hours God gave me, get myself a little easy money"
Now, now, now, na na

Her mind's made up, she walks down the road
Her hands in her pockets, coat buttoned 'gainst the cold
She finally finds Billy down at the Italian cafe
When he's drunk it's hard to understand what Billy says
But then he mumbles in his coffee and suddenly roars
"It's a rat trap, Judy, and we've been caught..."

Rat trap
You've been caught in a rat trap

Related Post: Out Of The Box! M.P.H.

Shoulda Woulda Coulda

Binding Ink Labels: , , , , , ,

MAUD MULLER

AUD MULLER, on a summer's day,
Raked the meadows sweet with hay.

Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth
Of simple beauty and rustic health.

Singing, she wrought, and her merry glee
The mock-bird echoed from his tree.

But, when she glanced to the far-off town,
White from its hill-slope looking down,

The sweet song died, and a vague unrest
And a nameless longing filled her breast--

A wish, that she hardly dared to own,
For something better than she had known.

The Judge rode slowly down the lane,
Smoothing his horse's chestnut mane.

He drew his bridle in the shade
Of the apple-trees, to greet the maid,

And ask a draught from the spring that flowed
Through the meadow across the road.

She stooped where the cool spring bubbled up,
And filled for him her small tin cup,

And blushed as she gave it, looking down
On her feet so bare, and her tattered gown.

"Thanks!" said the Judge, "a sweeter draught
From a fairer hand was never quaffed."

He spoke of the grass and flowers and trees,
Of the singing birds and the humming bees;

Then talked of the haying, and wondered whether
The cloud in the west would bring foul weather.

And Maud forgot her briar-torn gown,
And her graceful ankles bare and brown;

And listened, while a pleasant surprise
Looked from her long-lashed hazel eyes.

At last, like one who for delay
Seeks a vain excuse, he rode away,

Maud Muller looked and sighed: "Ah, me!
That I the Judge's bride might be!

"He would dress me up in silks so fine,
And praise and toast me at his wine.

"My father should wear a broadcloth coat;
My brother should sail a painted boat.

"I'd dress my mother so grand and gay,
And the baby should have a new toy each day.

"And I'd feed the hungry and clothe the poor,
And all should bless me who left our door."

The Judge looked back as he climbed the hill,
And saw Maud Muller standing still.

"A form more fair, a face more sweet,
Ne'er hath it been my lot to meet.

"And her modest answer and graceful air
Show her wise and good as she is fair.

"Would she were mine, and I to-day,
Like her, a harvester of hay:

"No doubtful balance of rights and wrongs,
Nor weary lawyers with endless tongues,

"But low of cattle, and song of birds,
And health, and quiet, and loving words."

But he thought of his sisters, proud and cold,
And his mother, vain of her rank and gold.

So, closing his heart, the Judge rode on,
And Maud was left in the field alone.

But the lawyers smiled that afternoon,
When he hummed in court an old love-tune;

And the young girl mused beside the well,
Till the rain on the unraked clover fell.

He wedded a wife of richest dower,
Who lived for fashion, as he for power.

Yet oft, in his marble hearth's bright glow,
He watched a picture come and go:

And sweet Maud Muller's hazel eyes
Looked out in their innocent surprise.

Oft when the wine in his glass was red,
He longed for the wayside well instead;

And closed his eyes on his garnished rooms,
To dream of meadows and clover-blooms.

And the proud man sighed, with a secret pain,
"Ah, that I were free again!

"Free as when I rode that day,
Where the barefoot maiden raked her hay."

She wedded a man unlearned and poor,
And many children played round her door.

But care and sorrow, and child-birth pain,
Left their traces on heart and brain.

And oft, when the summer sun shone hot
On the new-mown hay in the meadow lot,

And she heard the little spring brook fall
Over the roadside, through the wall,

In the shade of the apple-tree again
She saw a rider draw his rein,

And, gazing down with timid grace,
She felt his pleased eyes read her face.

Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls
Stretched away into stately halls;

The weary wheel to a spinnet turned,
The tallow candle an astral burned;

And for him who sat by the chimney lug,
Dozing and grumbling o'er pipe and mug,

A manly form at her side she saw,
And joy was duty and love was law.

Then she took up her burden of life again,
Saying only, "It might have been."

Alas for maiden, alas for Judge,
For rich repiner and household drudge!

God pity them both! and pity us all,
Who vainly the dreams of youth recall;

For of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these: "It might have been!"

Ah, well! for us all some sweet hope lies
Deeply buried from human eyes;

And, in the hereafter, angels may
Roll the stone from its grave away!

John Greenleaf Whittier, "Maud Muller," Selected American and British Poems, Lit2Go Edition, (1856), http://etc.usf.edu/lit2go/109/selected-american-and-british-poems/5398/maud-muller/. John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892) "an influential American Quaker poet and ardent advocate of the abolition of slavery in the United States."

Down The Rabbit Hole

Binding Ink Labels: , , , , , , , ,
The concept of combining quantum theory and spirituality was originally introduced in a 2004 movie entitled has now been expanded upon in an extended version of the same film released August 1, 2006, What the Bleep - DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE QUANTUM EDITION.

1The BLEEP – Quantum Edition explores the latest scientific discoveries that explain the mind-body connection – making them understandable for the everyday, ordinary person. In addition it puts forward revolutionary experimental evidence that we, and our world are not separate, but connected.

2Part story, part documentary, and part elaborate and inspiring visual effects and animations, this extended version features a new opening 3following the journey of divorced professional photographer Amanda (played by Academy Award winning actress, Marlee Matlin) as she comes to understand the sources of her depression and slowly changes her life. During the process Amanda 2afinds herself in a fantastic Alice in Wonderland experience when her daily, uninspired life literally begins to unravel, revealing the uncertain world of the quantum field hidden behind what we consider to be our normal, waking reality.

The movie's documentary inserts include the world’s top in the field of physicists, neurologists, anesthesiologists & physicians, molecular biology, and spiritual teachers, mystics and scholars who 3aexplore the links between quantum mechanics, neurobiology, human consciousness and day-to-day reality and talk about the consciousness, psi research, physics, biology, emotion and addictions.

There are in this Quantum Edition. One of my favorite animations is when 4Amanda peers through her camera at the wedding reception. She sees into the guests’ bodies and watches Cells running rampant with their molecules of emotion. But this rabbit hole soon turns inside out as the Cells find their way out onto the dance floor to cajole, coerce, and excite the partiers into their favorite brand of emotion. Animations similar to this help us 5examine how the brain captures and processes information, and how that influences thoughts and actions. Making the case that humans can become addicted to certain emotions - love, rage, humiliation - just like a drug, and it takes willpower to break the cycle.

The fourth new character in this version is the animated Dr. Quantum by the pioneering physicist . Dr. Quantum leads viewers through an exploration of quantum physics including the Double-Slit Experiment and Entanglement. My favorite is Dr. Quantum - The Flatland:



I found the most intriguing part of this movie to be the Water Crystals by . He proves that 6thoughts and feelings affect physical reality. By producing different focused intentions through written and spoken words and music and literally presenting it to the same water samples, the water appears to "change its expression". 7From Mr. Emoto's work we are provided with factual evidence, that human vibrational energy, thoughts, words, ideas and music, affect the molecular structure of water, the very same water that comprises over seventy percent of a mature human body and covers the same amount of our planet.

Also beautifully detailed in his book “”:

“Imagine if water could absorb feelings and emotions or be transformed by thoughts. Imagine if we could photograph the structure of water at the moment of freezing and from the image "read" a message about the water that is relevant to our own health and well-being on the planet. Imagine if we could show the direct consequences of destructive thoughts or, alternately, the thoughts of love and appreciation. The Hidden Messages in Water introduces readers to the revolutionary work of Japanese scientist Masaru Emoto, who discovered that molecules of water are affected by thoughts, words, and feelings. Dr. Emoto shares his realizations from his years of research and explains the profound implications on the healing of water, mankind, and earth.”

Thank You Love

As C. Norman Shealy, M.D., Ph.D stated, “6aHalf of the earth is water; our body is three-quarters water. Water represents the interface between the 4th dimension in which we live and the 5th dimensional sphere of our soul.”

In conclusion; ‘What the Bleep - DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE’ is more than entertaining, it is education. All that remains is the one enduring question "How Far Down The Rabbit Hole” are you willing to go?" Cause the deeper you go down the ‘Rabbit Hole’ the more you learn, the more you discover, the more you understand, the more you see that ‘we are not separate, but connected’.

“If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't. And contrary wise, what is, it wouldn't be. And what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?” Lewis Carroll (Alice in Wonderland)


1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.

Double-Slit Experiment and Entanglement

Permission to use photo #'27. Animation characters' from the Press Room, High Resolution Stills from What The Bleep Do We Know!? granted to Binding Ink.org by Webmaster.


Related Posts: To Curse, To Ponder, To Wonder or Not

Technorati Tags: ,