On Taxes and why I won’t vote blue…

The good news is that I’ve now sold my condo and the proceeds have been deposited. The bad, but not unexpected, news is that thanks to the money grubbing politicians in DC and Annapolis, I get to keep a whopping 50% of the profit from the sale.

I’ll say this slowly for those whose response to every issue is “tax the rich:” Capital gains taxes are taxes on the middle class. They’re taxes on every man and woman who has used a little bit of their already taxes income to invest in their own future. 

If you want to know why I’m firmly in the #NeverVoteBlue camp, it’s the fact that they’re the party of more taxes even when government revenue is already at an all time high. It’s the fact that after 20 years of paying property tax, tax on rental income, and generally trying to look out for my own future, the state and federal revenue agents feel like they’re entitled to get another bite of the apple. It’s almost as if they’ve got beef with someone who’s trying to take care of their own future rather than accept a subsistence level life doled out monthly and overseen by political hacks.

Enough already. Unless you’re planning on giving me a handy, keep your damned thieving mitts out of my pockets.

In support of natural consequences…

October 1st in Maryland is notable for really only one reason I can think of – a shit ton of new laws come into effect on this day every year. 2019 is no exception. As usual, there’s at least one of these new laws that leaves me baffled and vaguely annoyed.

Starting today here in the great State of Maryland, you have to be 21 years old to buy cigarettes. That’s fine. I suppose if you’re going to have an age limitation you have to set it somewhere, but let’s not pretend that setting it at 21 is anything other than arbitrary.

So, you’ve got to be 21 buy your pack of Marlboro’s or enjoy a cold beer. You can start working at age 14 (with a permit). You can get a driver’s license (provisional) at 16 years and six months of age. The state’s age of sexual consent is 16. You must be 18 to rent a hotel room for the night and 21 years old to rent a car.

At 18 a person is legally considered an adult. They’ve had 12 years of education made available to them. If the individual in question happens to be male, they’re eligible to be drafted into military service. It’s the age when we’ve collectively decided people are legally responsible for their own actions. It’s also the age we’ve decided that people are smart enough to begin voting.

Fundamentally I believe the question is whether we believe an 18 year old is an adult, capable of making responsible decisions, or do we not. As the age for “rites of passage” in our society slowly marches later and later into life, perhaps we should re-evaluate the definition of adulthood altogether since 18 is clearly arbitrary and we seem to be determined to surround the little darlings in bubble wrap, except when it’s time to decide who to fuck or whether they get to go to Southeast Asia to fight Mr. Nixon’s war. At exactly the time when we appear determined to defer adulthood well into people’s 20s, there’s a nascent move to lower the age of majority in order to allow even younger people to vote.

I find it the height of hypocrisy to believe an 18 year old (or someone younger) should be entrusted with the most valuable jewel of citizenship, yet also allowed to extend their childhood in almost every other meaningful way indefinitely into the future. People are either an adult, with the accompanying rights and responsibilities, or they’re not.

Creating a system in which people are adults for some purposes but not for others feels like creating an increasingly fractured and nonsensical universe out of something that really just shouldn’t be that damned complicated. Some people make shitty decisions whether their 18 or 58. Removing the natural consequences of those decisions isn’t doing any of us a favor.

What Annoys Jeff this Week?

Electronic License Plates. My beloved home state of Maryland is launching a program to test “electronic license plates.” I have no earthy idea why bits of stamped tin that have been good enough and dirt cheap to make for more than a century needs to be made electronic – and more expensive, and trackable, and more prone to being damaged and needing replaced. It can’t possibly be as a means to make some state service less expensive or the process to receive it less onerous because God knows that’s not how we do things in here in Maryland.

Sleeping separately. Over the last ten years you can count on maybe all your toes and fingers how many nights I haven’t slept in the midst of dogs – some in the bed, some in crates, some loose on the floor, but always close enough to hear every snore and snort. With Maggie’s second accident in as many nights, though, I banished both dogs to the laundry room and their crates in wee small hours of the morning. They didn’t like it. I didn’t like it. I’m fairly sure the cat was fine with the arrangement, though. At least for the time being, this will have to be the new order of things. The alternative is planning to scrub the bedroom floor every night between 2 and 5 AM, which feels like a complete nonstarter for any number of reasons. Since we don’t have a definitive diagnosis yet there’s no way of telling if this is the short term fix or the long. In either case, it’s annoying and displeases me greatly.

Landlording. I bought a condo back in about 2001, fresh into my first professional job and figuring I’d be there for the long haul. Two years later, I was pulling up stakes for greener pastures and I’ve been renting the place out ever since. I’ve never been at risk of retiring off the rents received – once the property manager and inevitable repairs are paid for, it’s a break even proposition most of the time. I got a call this week that my property manager was winding down his business and I think that means it’s probably time for me to settle up, take back a little bit of equity, and finally let the condo go. There’s no one thing that’s really getting me out of the landlording business, but the steady drumbeat of needing to find new tenants, make repairs, replace appliances, and now the prospect of needing to learn to work with the quirks of a completely different management company are all combining to tell me it’s time to accept that the capital gains tax isn’t going to get any lower and move on.

The Case of the Mysterious Missing Bone Box…

A trunk containing what were believed to be bones of unknown origin was discovered in the water near Ocean City, Maryland yesterday morning. Twenty four hours later I saw a report that the trunk in question had been “misplaced” overnight because of tides and the shifting nature of the sandy bottom into which the trunk was stuck.

Now, I’m not a fancy big city detective or anything but it seems to me that if someone points out where a big box of bones is laying along the shore, you might want to mark it’s location somehow, or you know, maybe put someone in waders to stand there and keep an eye on things overnight. Knowing that it’s in a zone where water moves pretty quickly as the tides cycle, maybe attaching a buoy wouldn’t have been completely out of the question. Sure, it’s a potential crime scene and all, but given that the tides have managed to wash away the primary evidence, it stands to reason there probably isn’t going to be much trace just laying around there waiting for someone to find.

I’m not exactly criticizing whoever is in charge of investigating the Case of the Missing Bone Box, but seriously? Come on.