Comment by Meg Raven

# January 1, 2007,

I just purchased 10 copies and will be renting this DVD for free in my video store. It’s that important.

Income taxes are an abomination and were never intended to exist in this country. It wasn’t “by mistake” that the founders of this country “omitted” a personal income tax in the Constitution. They didn’t “omit” it - they forbid it! They told Congress that the only way they could legally raise funds for the governance of this Nation were the methods clearly delineated in Article 1, Section 8 and specifically forbid an income tax and other shady methods of ripping the people off in the following Section (9) of the same Article. They intentionally put Congress on a budget and made the methods of raising revenue so simple and onerous that, if they tried to step out of line, the people would be sure to rise up and slap them back into place. But that wasn’t good enough for the cheating, lying, thieving, backstabbing, double-talking, no-good scoundrels we somehow manage to keep on electing, was it? Oh, no. No sirree, Bob. Not nearly enough. Now look at the mess we all have to contend with.

Consider this:

Suppose you lived above a small shop that you owned and operated in a nice quiet neighborhood. Business is okay, though nothing to scream about. You are happy and content and you are not hurting anyone. You consider yourself to be an upstanding citizen. Your business is one that brings goods and/or services the community needs and you provide jobs for others - both in the shop, and by purchasing your goods and business supplies from wholesalers.

One day a couple of burly young fellows with Italian sounding names and Brooklyn accents walk in and comment on what a nice life you’ve made for yourself. Pretty shop, pretty family, nice customers - be a shame if anything happened to all that…

You try to be nice because you’re a bit naïve. You smile and explain to them that you have insurance for those types of things and besides, this is a quiet neighborhood and nothing like that ever really happens. The bruisers laugh and explain the facts of life to you. They don’t want to hurt you or your family or your business - but you are living in their little piece of paradise, and they have a lot of needy mouths to feed. They are here to protect you from all that nastiness, and it’s really not cheap or easy keeping those thugs from the next neighborhood away from here. You have to step up to the plate! You have to get with the program and pay your fair share!

The whole time they are explaining things to you they are also moving closer. Very imposing, and you notice that somewhere along the line they’ve stopped smiling. Something goes “Click!” inside your brain and you suddenly see things the way they really are. You ask them how much it’s going to take to be considered a productive and “patriotic” neighborhood citizen. The smiles return and you realize it’s okay to take another breath. It’s not easy, but you manage to keep from swallowing your own tongue.

The smaller of the two Cro-Magnons wraps his tree-sized limb across the back of your shoulders and gives you what he figures is a comradely little shake and while your senses are still reeling in adjustment he explains how much they “value your contribution to society” and how they wouldn’t want to put you out of business by asking for too much. “Golden Duck.” The big one quips over his shoulder as he walks across to the room to the cash register. “Yeah!” the little one agrees, “we wouldn’t want to kill the Golden Duck, now would we?” You notice (aside from the fact that you’re dealing with literary geniuses) that he has recently ingested large quantities of garlic and the Altoids he swiped off your shelf don’t seem to be working.

You don’t want to piss him off so you just slowly shake your head and (inhaling when you’re facing away from him) hope that’s the response he’s looking for. Apparently it is because he goes on to explain that you’ll be required to pay 20% of whatever you take in. “In Advance” says talkative one as he opens your till and starts counting bills. Somehow he’s figured out how to run an X report and you can’t quite wrap your mind around that.

The little guy goes on to tell you the rules. You have to pay. There’s no way around it and you have to pay in full and on time. You can’t cheat. If you cheat, and they find out, you’ll pay a lot more than you can afford, and they will have to rough you up a little as an example to the others. Maybe even rough up your family a little too, just to get the point across. If you’re late or if you are short, you pay a fine. The longer it takes you to pay the fine (as well as make up any shortages) the greater the fine becomes. That’s a deep hole you don’t want to get into. As long as you continue to pay in full and on time, there won’t be too many “visits” like this one. “If we see that you’ve paid too much, we’ll kick a little back to you at the end of the year. Give you something to buy all those Christmas presents with. You see? We’re not such bad guys, and we really want to see you do well! Oh yeah - if you have any employees? Well, we’d really appreciate it if you collected their fair share for us. You can just take it out of their paycheck each week and send it in. We’ll take care of the rest, and if they have any problems, you tell them to come see us. We’ll be happy to straighten them out.”

The little guy grins and releases your shoulders. It seems like they are about ready to leave. With the weight off your shoulders you feel almost as if you might float up to the ceiling. That, or pass out. Hard to tell. The big guy is stuffing an astonishingly large wad of your cash into his pocket. You don’t know if it’s 20% or 100% and you really don’t care because, Thank God!, it really looks like they are getting ready to leave. No Luck.

The big guy bends down and whispers in your ear: “If you mess with us, we will destroy you - but not before we destroy your family and your reputation. Then we’ll take your business and your property and anything else that you have left and give it to someone who knows how to show us the proper respect. We’ll be watching you. We are always watching you. Remember that, and do the right thing. Have a nice day, sir.”

As they leave the shop, you decide that you’re going to call the big one Shakespeare. He really seems to have a way with words…

The above scenario is what is known as a “protection racket.” It is prosecutable by law. If you feel sufficiently reckless, you might go to the police and file a restraining order in a court of law. In which case, if you were dealing with the mob, you would wind up very dead, or very non-existent. There’s really not much of a difference. OR you might go to the FBI who would want you wired and would put up cameras in your shop in an attempt to capture the evidence - and the results would be pretty much the same unless you were very, very lucky, managed to make it through the witness stage, and joined the witness protection program.

Of course, we’re not talking about “The Mob,” are we? We are talking about the government. The bruisers are actually lightweights in knock-off Brooks Brothers suits. They are auditors for the IRS. These are not the enforcers - they are the bad accountants who couldn’t make it in the real world, but get off on threatening productive Citizens with, apparently (at least as far as YOU know) the full force of the government behind them. Unfortunately, if you attempt to resist them, that’s when they call in the real enforcers and then it’s pretty much all she wrote. Your “Duck” is cooked.

But if you are offended by the thought of a bunch of gangsters conducting themselves in this manner (and God help you if you are not!), how could you possibly be any less offended when the Government does exactly the same thing (and worse) under the guise of the Income Tax!?! If anything, you should be even more outraged. Keep in mind that if anyone else tries to do this IT’s ILLEGAL!!!

Get the picture? WATCH THE MOVIE!!!