Who Pays The Federal Income Tax? December 29, 2010
Posted by Michael in Economics, Politics.trackback
ME, that’s who.
Thanks to Doug for the tip. (Click to enlarge.)
Sure, Obama, tax the rich some more. Great idea.
Fairness compels me to point out that federal income taxes are only a portion of the tax burden. If you look at the total take of government, including Social Security and Medicare taxes, state and local property and sales taxes, gasoline and other excise taxes, etc., the system is far less progressive than this graph suggests. It is mildly progressive, but not as outrageous as the graph suggests.
Still, the graph makes a valid point. Soaking the rich with higher federal income taxes won’t work. The problem is spending.
It would be nice if that had figures for gross income, in dollars, to go with those percentages.
IIRC,it only takes a little more than $100K in annual income to be in the top 10%.
So, can I put you down for “maybe?”
http://giveitbackforjobs.org/
Tax the rich! Feed the poor!
Until there are no rich no more!
Sang some now very rich dude.
Huh. WordPress is now notifying me by email when someone subscribes to our site. This must be new; we have numerous subscribers but I have not gotten this email notification before. WordPress tells me the subscriber’s approximate location and the email address they used.
Apparently we just got a new subscriber from Sydney. I sent him/her a howdy email. I’ve never met an Aussie that I didn’t like.
Imagine a Canadian who likes to drink and have fun and be rowdy.
That’s what Aussies are like.
In my experience, if you can drink with Aussies or Koreans, you can keep up with anyone. Except the Russians, of course.
What makes the US and Israel so entrepreneur friendly? Its their history.
http://haphazardcontemplations.wordpress.com/2010/12/29/what-makes-an-entrepreneurial-society/
Good chart, Michael. Yea. STOP THE SPENDING!!!
Tea Party Rules!
wow this pie is good.
The Irish can drink too. Most of them are very nice drunks.
Have you ever seen that show “No Reservations” with Anthony Bourdain? This guy travels the world under the guise of “experiencing exotic cuisines”, when in fact all he does is get hammered on the local hooch and then drunkenly gobble down whatever is placed before him.
Great show.
I saw one show of him experiencing “exotic cuisine” in Mexico, which amounted to him getting hammered on tequila and eating stir-fried goat burritos or something, and declaring they were DELICIOUS.
I wanted to go there and try it.
wow this pie is good. Thanks, Dave. I love you. You get pie anytime.
Kevl, I used to watch that show a lot but haven’t watched much lately. Maybe I’ll give it a try again.
Read two of Anthony Bourdain’s books and made our son read one of them, “Kitchen Confidential,” before he went to the CIA (where Bourdain got his culinary degree, btw). I remember one of his shows in the far east where he was doing drugs to get ‘hammered.’
He’s quite the entertainer. Our son told his about a time when Anthony Bourdain came to speak at one of the events on the CIA campus, and Bourdain took out his cigs and lit up right there in front of everyone while he was talking — and it’s a NO SMOKING facility. And no one told him to put it out. Hahahah. Guy’s got guts.
He’s an interesting feller. Down for anything.
He’d be a great traveling companion.
Cathy, your son studied at CIA? That is great. NY, TX or CA? The CIA in NY (main campus, I think) runs a restaurant that has a waiting list stretching into months. A co-worker once went went there and was floored by the experience.
**goes off to lunch. Sigh. Noodles…**
He studied at the NY campus mostly, which is beautifully sited on the banks of the Hudson River, plus a summer at the CA campus in the Napa Valley. Got the bachelors degree, not just the culinary degree, which includes courses in restaurant management, etc. This is not a cheap education. The bachelors program takes 38 months, and it is continuous. They don’t get summers off. On the good side, the students eat well — they eat what they cook.
The NY campus actually has four different restaurants for different types of cuisines (Classic French, Italian, American, Farm-To-Table), and they are all renowned. Andy worked in them, of course. The Escoffier style French restaurant is the most ritzy. And they are very hard to get into unless you have reservations, as you said. People drive out to Hyde Park all the way from NYC to dine there. They also do a lot of banquets, so the students get some experience with mass-production cooking and logistics.
>>On the good side, the students eat well — they eat what they cook.
The ultimate exams. If you perform poorly, it leaves a bad taste in your mouth.
Michael, is Andy as tall as you? I have realized that most kitchen counters (including those in professional kitchens) are not really built for people over 5’8″. Bad on the back because you have to hunch a little.
Yeah, he is almost as tall as me. He was mostly shorter than his friends as a kid, but unexpectedly grew like a weed in his late teens and early twenties.
The ultimate exams. If you perform poorly, it leaves a bad taste in your mouth.
Actually, if a student screws up a dish, the food just gets thrown away. They would never serve food that was done wrong. The dining experience is part of their education.
I’ve often wondered how many millions the CIA spends on groceries every year.
>> He’s an interesting feller. Down for anything.
He’d be a great traveling companion.
Yes, I am, and I would.
Dave, you would not like traveling with me.
I like daylight.
Oh good grief, Kevl, are you one of those dreadful “morning people”? One of the rise-and-shine types?
I knew there had to be something wrong with you.
Daylight?
Just because I get up at 5:30 to go to work every day doesn’t mean I like it. On the weekends I don’t move until 6:45.
I do like to get up in teh morning, but I’m quiet.
Although lately it’s been a drag; walking in 5 degrees across a tundra is not exactly invigorating. It’s painful.
I think I’ve experienced 5 degrees maybe once in my whole life.
It hurts down in the bones. In the teeth.
Interesting data and something that’s been everywhere BUT the Lame Stream Media. You’ll notice how they also complain how “the top 1% holds 24% of the wealth in the U.S.”, but they never follow it up with that the top 1% PAYS 40% of the federal income taxes. But then, that doesn’t fit their class warfare mantra.
They talk about spreading the wealth and making sure everyone pays their fair share. I couldn’t agree more: that 50% paying only 3% needs to step it up and pay more.
I’d love it if you could find the reverse chart: one that shows expenditures per person based on income. I suspect that many of those in the 50% that pays only 3% are on the upper end of federal, state, and local outlays to them.
Frozen bone?
Do not want.
Dave, you are indeed a pussy. I remember earning my Polar Bear patch as a Boy Scout the hard way. The rule was you had to camp out when it was below freezing. The night I did it, it was sub-zero Fahrenheit. We were sleeping in a canvas tent, on snow covered with a thin layer of hay. This was at Bruin Lake Boy Scout Camp in Michigan.
The hard part was when I woke up in the middle of the night and realized that I had to get out of my bag and go out to take a pee. It’s not good for a young lad to expose his dick to that kind of temperature. I’m pretty sure my dick would be larger today but for that experience.
Fuck you, guy who lives in Texas now where winter ain’t shit.
wow this pie is good.
Fuck you, Dave. I know what you did with that comment. You were trying to incite jealousy and rage because Cathy made you a pecan pie, as if she likes you better than me, which may be true.
Hah! I laugh at you. Do you really think I spent any time fantasizing about me ass-raping you with a Louisville Slugger coated with axle grease?
Of course not. I am above such thoughts. It never even occurred to me to ass-rape you with a Louisville Slugger coated with axle grease. I am a Lutheran, and you are my brother in Christ.
As a Baptist, you are just barely so, but still . . .
>> Do you really think I spent any time fantasizing about me ass-raping you with a Louisville Slugger coated with axle grease?
I sincerely hope not.
I thought we’d have to wait until tomorrow for drunk commenting.
Suggestion: New Year’s Eve 2010 Drunk Commenting Thread for tomorrow night.
Idea people have to write the posts.
Get busy.
I sincerely hope not.
You are the best straight man EVER!
I think what we are doing is basically the Smothers Brothers “Mom always liked you best” routine from the late 60s. I’m not sure we can claim any points for originality. We’ve just cast Cathy and the other IB Wimmens as Mom.
thiiiiiiiird base.
I’ve studied both parts for so long I can do either one effortlessly.
Suggestion: New Year’s Eve 2010 Drunk Commenting Thread for tomorrow night.
No can do. I’ve gotta go to a real party with real people, and wear my tuxedo.
Life is hell.
IB Community Theater — here is how my New Year’s Eve shaped up:
Cathy: Hey Michael, how would you like to go to a New Year’s Eve party?
Michael: There are a lot of drunks and cops on the road on New Year’s Eve.
Cathy: Our friends and neighbors have reserved a table, and invited us to join them. Including Christie and Robin, whose wedding you just attended, so you can’t pretend you don’t know anyone.
Michael: Yeah, but where the hell is this party?
Cathy: It is at The Four Seasons resort which is right across the street from our subdivision, so all you have to do to drunk drive home is make it across one public right-of-way when the light is green. I will help you. It will cost $250, which includes champagne at midnight.
Michael: How am I supposed to dress? Will jeans be OK?
Cathy: Formal. You should wear your tux, and I am going to make you a mask. I will look awesome. It’s a masked ball.
Michael: A what?
Cathy: I went to the hobby shop to buy the makings for nice fitted masks for you and me. You will like your mask.
*Cathy gives Michael the stink eye*
Michael: OK, sure, that sounds like a great idea. Only $250? That sounds like cheap eats to me.
Fin.
if you don’t wear the Batman mask and cape you don’t have a hair on your ass.
Not. One.
Never fear, my IB-Darlings. Michael will be home in time to do some drunk blogging. Party is over at 1:00 a.m.
if you don’t wear the Batman mask and cape you don’t have a hair on your ass.
Not. One.
I hate to say it, but you are making a valid point. After all, I am personally responsible for preventing crime in my neighborhood, and I need to inspire the good citizens to be alert for criminals, and let me know when they are present (having somehow passed the peripheral defenses of our guard gates).
Await pic on New Years Day.
Cathy: It is at The Four Seasons resort which is right across the street from our subdivision, so all you have to do to drunk drive home is make it across one public right-of-way when the light is green.
*looks up the Michaels’ address*
*looks at Google Earth and finds The Four Seasons and the public intersection in between both addresses*
*calls the Michaels’ town’s police and helpfully suggests they set up a holiday drunk driving spot check at this intersection*
I got stopped at one of those spot checks once on New Year’s Eve coming back from my girlfriend’s house.
It was, I don’t know, maybe 11 pm and I had had one strawberry daquiri three hours prior. Thank goodness.
My dog was young then; he was in the car and going apeshit. He had never been in a situation where I was talking to a strange man at night out my car window who was shining a flashlight at my face.
Bubba leaped forward to my car window with his front feet in my lap, barking and growling at the officer who was asking me if I had had any drinks that evening.
I told Bubba to get in the back seat and he did it, and shut the fuck up too (mostly). After that everything was copacetic.
“Is that an Australian Cattle Dog?”
“Yes it is Sir”
“Cool dog”
Yes. He is. But that’s only because of the beatings. Mostly he’s an asshole. Points are all mine.
can you drunk check a golf cart?
Only on an Interstate, I think.
which is kind of Nazi-ish if you ask me
Oh Laura, you won’t do that. You don’t fool me. I know you love me.
Ima gonna walk outside right now, and get me some mint from Connecticut to throw in my bourbon.
. . .
Done.
Tastes good.
Oh you should not have done that-
*internet persona automatically becomes 5% wartier*
SIGH.
We actually imported your spearmint and peppermint from Ohio to Texas in pots. They survived the three-day trip in the truck at 100°+ with no water. I don’t know how.
What I really need now is some wintergreen.
*bats eyes at Laura*
Wintergreen. Eh. That stuff won’t survive anywhere in my yard that I have planted it, but it’s a weed in the woods around here.
fuckn spearmint, how does it work?
it’s a weed in the woods around here.
I bet that weed could survive a trip to Texas, if somebody knew how to pack and ship it properly.
*Michael makes big Cabbage Patch Doll eyes at Laura*
fuckn spearmint, how does it work?
Only grow it in pots. You must confine the root system. Otherwise, it will take over your yard, creep into your house, and strangle you to death while you are sleeping.
*Michael makes big Cabbage Patch Doll eyes at Laura*
Stealing wild plants from public lands is bad and WRONG.
*eyes dart involuntarily to pond, house foundation plantings, south side of yard, edge of woods*
WRONG.
I would never.
NEVER.
*tucks trowel into fanny pack*
BAD.
We decided to eradicate the lemon mint that was infesting our tulip vine wall, which has a scarce water supply from the drip irrigation system.
That stuff is tenacious. It was a two-year battle between the mint and Roundup. I think the Roundup has won, but I’m not sure yet. The mint can show up in the tiniest crack in the pool deck from its root system. We will see in the spring.
The point being, don’t fuck with mint. Keep it in a pot. Do not let the root system escape into real estate that you own.
Once again, my IB-Darlings, never fear. I’m driving the little Spyder on New Year’s eve as the designated driver.
… and there will be photos… with masks.
Yay!
For all that stuff above.
Especially Lauraw’s dog.
The axle grease shows he cares.
Sweet.
I’m, I’m sorry, I don’t speak Spanish.
Dave, you are a smelly pirate hooker.
Why don’t you go back to your home on Whore Island?
We have a saying in Texas – the coyote of the desert likes to eat the heart of the young and the blood drips down to his children for breakfast, lunch and dinner and only the ribs will be broken.
If you are confused, Dave and I are doing –
I’m not installing a new browser for you either.
Also, jazz clarinet is for little girly men.
I’m in a glass case of emotion.
I like scotch. Scotchy scotch scotch, down it goes, down into my belly.
Wimmins like jazz clarinets, Dave. STFU.
that isn’t in the movie.
Dave is like a miniature Buddha, covered in fur.