This week Caesar came for me, demanding my tax obligation. As a one-percenter, my burden was substantial, but I'm not whining. I love my country and understand it needs money to fulfill its obligations. So the check is in the mail.
Thirty-five years ago, I was broke, having just graduated from Boston University with a Master's degree in Broadcast Journalism. I was lucky enough to get hired as a reporter in Scranton, Pennsylvania, at $150 a week. One problem: I couldn't pay my rent on that. So I picked up another $80 a month writing dopey gag lines for "Uncle Ted's Ghoul School," a Saturday night monster fright fest. Stuff like, "Listen, Drac, here's what's at stake."
Over the years, I worked hard, took chances, moved all over the country, and finally attained affluence. Along the way, I always felt I was paying my fair share to the government. I still do, and I'm getting a bit teed off by President Obama implying I am not. Hey, Mr. President, the massive debt is partly your fault. I have nothing do to with it. This is not a give-and-take situation. I've taken nothing from the government.
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