Satirical comment on tax plan
Unbeknownst to everyone who thinks they know me, I’m actually an old rich guy. Folks get the “old” part, but, whoa, are they wrong about my massive wealth!
I bounce around the peninsula in my 1998 Ford Taurus, while my Lamborghini’s parked in Portland. I shop at the dollar store, dress modestly, and prominently display my “No tax cuts for the rich” yard sign, bumper sticker and lapel pin. And I flaunt my blue-collar wardrobe, as I did in 2014 when I produced “The Peninsula Look,” a fundraising men’s fashion show featuring mind-boggling local attire.
But I now need to pony up about my façade. While it worked well for the past eighteen years, I’ve recently fallen on some hard times. So I’m coming “out of the closet.”
Why? You may ask. Well, being rich isn’t a bed of roses. I can’t trust anyone, aside from a family member or two. And I have to guard against perfect strangers, casual acquaintances, shysters, lawyers, and my most dangerous threat, other rich people.
We so-called fat cats have been subjected to scurrilous charges as we, the unsung heroes of capitalism, create thousands of jobs for other Americans, mainly lawyers ferreting out loopholes in the 74,608-page federal tax code.
Alas, we job-creators are cruelly castigated as grasping, greedy, predatory, power-mad, sticky-fingered slackers. Picky, picky, picky!
I’m a warm, brainy, generous rich guy. But the main problem I now face is I’m completely outnumbered by the other 99% of Americans. Hence I suffer.
I’m actually just getting by now, buying discounted caviar, mowing my own lawn(s), and walking my own dogs. And fees for my yacht, parked in Portland, have become obscenely expensive.
I ask you: Am I not like you, putting on my Armani suit one arm at a time and putting on my Ralph Lauren Purple Label silk trousers one leg at a time?
Please don’t soak us rich. Allow us rich folks to soak in our Jacuzzis while you ordinary folks mount a vigorous campaign to help us by working together for our common good — having more.
Many comments, none by women
After the Halloween massacre in New York, there was a press conference at One Police Plaza. The governor was there, and the mayor was there, and representatives of the New York Police Department. A lot of people.
Many of them took turns offering condolences, encouraging citizens to be strong, to not be fearful. There was something odd to me about the conference. Then I realized what was wrong. No women were represented. No women spoke. Not one. How could this be?
Decades ago, the traditional fishing villages on the Columbia were flooded out when three dams were built. The tribes were promised that the villages would be rebuilt, and they never were. In 2016, with the encouragement from former President Obama, the feds finally acknowledged that responsibility to the Warm Springs, Yakama, Umatilla and Nez Perce, and the initial planning began. The Army Corps of Engineers then made a request for the promised $1.6 million that was needed to finish the planning, and was abruptly denied by the administration (read President Donald Trump).
I can still remember going by the old tribal villages when I was a little girl. Sometimes we could get a glimpse of the fishing, and sometimes we saw the very poor conditions the tribal members lived in. There were shacks beside the river that were in shambles. And still, the housing has never been replaced as promised. It was, and is, an outrage against humanity. We are certainly not the greatest nation in the world.
Trump has shown that he has little interest in helping minorities. This is just another example. The feds could easily pay for the next planning of this much-needed tribal housing if Trump would donate the millions of dollars that it costs to fly back and forth to the White House and Mar-A-Lago a few times.
Mary Tanguay Webb
Show respect for sacrifices
I am totally disheartened with the way our government has taken respect for ourselves and thrown it out with the trash. Americans have children in the military who are being killed in action almost daily. God forbid we make it public, and give respect to one of our own for making the ultimate sacrifice. The least we all need to do is publish that service person’s name, and cherish their actions for as long as we live.
Today less than one-half of 1 percent of the U.S. population serves in the military. That is 1 out of 200 people. No one knows we are losing an average of five service people a week. Yes, severe consequences may happen if you sign that dotted line, but without risk there can be no reward.
Let me put this in context for way too many “Americans” to understand. A television show called “Game of Thrones” has knights and dragons. Besides all the drama there is “the wall,” a glacier cliff manned by very few to defend the realm against an army of ice zombies. Only those who are slaves or duty-bound serve at the wall. With so few having the honor to serve for others, the ice wall is blown apart.
Now, as someone who has put his own life on that dotted line, I can tell all who may read this: Not making a public ceremony for a fallen hero, someone who has put your way of living ahead of their own, is the biggest disrespect that can be done to that soldier, sailor, marine, airman, guardsman and their families. Wackos who murder people get much more “script” than my family in arms. That is pathetic.
It’s time to stop taking the privileges and freedoms 200 of you take for granted because of that one poor neighbor kid who will stand at the wall for you. Not for himself, as much as for his understanding that freedom is not free. So pretty please, let us get back to showing respect wherever and whenever a service person dies. It may help to burst the bubble too many Americans are living in for freedom’s sake.