Fresh Meat

Why I Renounced My Citizenship

moneyUp until December 31, 2014, I had held a dual citizenship with Canada and the US.  Canada, because by a geographical circumstance I was born there to American parents.  Because I was born prior to a change in the law in 1952, I didn’t have to choose between the two countries when I reached 21.

Some of you who follow me on FaceCrack, know that I have been working and mostly living in Canookistan off and on for sixteen years.  You also would know that in that period of time when I was living and working there exclusively,  I had not filed tax returns for those years, and the IRS finally caught up to me about two years ago wanting a huge pile of money from me.

(Interestingly, neither Israel — another citizenship I hold — and Canada didn’t require me to pay taxes on anything I earned while living and working in the US)

Well, about eighteen months ago, I made the decision that I would go to court, straighten up my tax issues, and get rid of my US citizenship, since my work is in Canada and I live full time here now.  Eighteen months of court, over $100,000 in legal fees, and an IRS settlement fully paid, I made it official at the end of 2014.

That should have been the end of it, right?

Remember, we are talking about the IRS…

Friday, I got one of those official letters from the IRS delivered to my sister’s house. She opened it up and faxed it to me. The letter said that I had failed to file my 2012 income tax return, and that I owed the US government $13,240 plus penalties — by March 9th.

What an inept bunch of buffoons! Not only was the return filed, I have a court document listing that fact, along with the exhibit in the court record of the actual filing.

For shits and giggles, I tried to bring up my account on the IRS dot gov website, and I no longer exist, because their system no longer recognizes my social security number.

I was of the mind to just ignore the whole thing, because I didn’t want to spend an hour on hold waiting to hear a human voice, but the urge to fuck with the IRS overrode my initial thought to just ignore it.

So this morning I called them.

An hour and twelve minutes after I called, I finally got the human voice, who proceeded to tell me her name followed by what seemed to be a thirty digit number that might identify her if I ever needed to. She then asked me for my Social Security number. I gave it to her. I could hear the clacking of keyboard keys and she asked me again. I told her again. She asked me if I was SURE that I had given her the right number. Yes, I was sure, since I was also sure that I’ve had that number much longer than she has been alive.

I also told here it was the number that came off of the notice that the IRS sent me telling me that I owed money.

“You received a notice?”

“Yes”.

“What is the caller ID number?”

I gave it to her.

She found the notice, and was able to access my entire account from there.

“You failed to file a tax return, so we did it for you. You owe us $18,500. How would you like to pay?”

Now comes the fun part.

“I’m NOT paying you a dime,” I said.

“Sir, you do realize that we can get a lien, go into your bank accounts, and levy your paychecks if you fail to pay us don’t you?”

“No, you cannot. And if you did, You would probably create an international fiasco that would make the IRS look even worse that you look right now”.

“Sir, you need to read the law. As a US citizen …”

I cut her of right there. “Here’s your problem. I am NOT a US citizen any longer.”

“Are you one of those militia people? If so, I am going to have to hand you off to my supervisor”

“No, I am a Canadian citizen. I have been all my life. Up until December 31st 2014 I had a dual citizenship with the US, but I renounced my US citizenship. This is probably why you cannot pull me up in your system under my former social security number.”

“I have never heard that happen before. People don’t leave the US,” she said.

I laughed and said people are leaving the US all of the time. I then told her that it was going to be obvious that SHE wasn’t going to be able to do anything here, so I guess I should be talking to her supervisor.

I was transferred.

I got this guy on the phone who pretty much went through the same exact steps that the woman did, except that you could tell by his “hmmmmm” as he tried six times to pull up my social security number on his computer that he was getting a bit frustrated.

I had already been on the phone longer than I had wanted to be, so I then told him about the letter, and the fact that I had already been through a long drawn out court thing to clear up past IRS issues, and that I had renounced my US citizenship at the end of last year. I gave him the court case docket number, and faxed him the court order that listed the 2012 IRS filing and payment.

Finally I was getting through to him. He understood what was going on. But…

“Okay, I see the problem here”.

[Finally]

“So when can you pay this outstanding bill of $18,500?”

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! DID YOU BUMP YOUR FUCKING HEAD?”

“Sir, our system is not set up to adjudicate something like this unless you are up to date on your account. Only then can we send it up the line to where it can be reviewed and any money that you are entitled to can be refunded. The problem is that you are in a penalty phase, and that stops the entire process until you are out of that phase.”

I just hung the phone up.

In other words, even though I have a court order that permanently closes my IRS account, that shows that I have satisfied all of my IRS bill — including the 2012 return — because of some stupid snafu at the IRS which now shows that I have a “penalty” they cannot do anything until I pay them (again) just to figure out that they were wrong in the first place.

So I just called my attorney, and he is going to deal with it — and send his bill to the IRS.

Any questions why I am no longer a US citizen?

There’s Still Hope

Yes, we have been notably absent, and for that I apologize. I will explain why later on, but for now I beg your forgiveness and ask for your patience. Yes, I’m still alive, as is Misha (although in his case barely so. Nothing serious, some penicillin and a few shots of vodka will clear him right up, provided he can hold his liquor this time.)

In the mean time I present to you one C. J. Pearson, a 12 year old Georgian kid who is definitely an articulate patriot, knowledgeable about the greatness that was and can once again be our glorious republic, and has an obvious love for our nation. A refreshing breath of fresh air midst the rancid and vile putrescence that has so overwhelmed us these past 7 years. Enjoy what may be a possible future of our society, provided we manage to leave enough debris for his generation to rebuild with.

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The Great Hall Seems a Bit Empty

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Where the hell is everybody?  This place looks about as dead as Jeb Bush’s campaign headquarters.  You KNOW it is pretty bad when a Canadian Liberal is posting on the front page of the Rott.  (yeah, I made it official finally)

How come n0body has sent out the search party for the other Management-types here?  Did someone leave the front door to the asylum open and they all escaped?

To top things off, I thought it would be nice to share a song here, but for some reason it won’t post the player.    Of course, with the blogging platform being almost three years obsolete, it’s no wonder.

I would have posted my Jukebox here just to give y’all a reason to come by, but no, even those hooks are broken here.

Anyways, for those complaining about not having any new meat here, this should be a bone you can chew on for a while.

Iwo

On February 19, 1945, Marines of the 3rd, 4th, and 5th Marine Divisions landed on a volcanic island in the Bonin Island chain of Japan called Iwo Jima. The strategic importance of the island was self evident and the Marines had no doubt of the ferocity of the battle that they were about to commence. But of even stronger importance was that to its defenders, Iwo was Japanese Home Islands. This was not a far off possession on the outer fringes of the Japanese defensive ring. This was Japan, a village of Tokyo itself. The 22,060 Sendai would sell it dearly.

The landings were unnervingly calm. No torrents of enemy fire mowed down the Marines of the first wave. Or the second. Perhaps finally, after all of the Navy’s boasting, they had actually succeeded in killing all of the defenders with the pre-invasion bombardment. But war-wise vets remembered that the reconnaissance photos had showed a striking absence of any permanent structures on Iwo. They would soon learn that this was because the Japs were not on Iwo, they were in Iwo.

 On cue the entire island erupted in a sustained and deadly fire from rifle pits, machine gun nests, AA guns and heavy artillery, all burrowed deep under Iwo’s volcanic rock. Every square yard of the island was covered with preregistered fire. The slaughter had begun, and it would continue for 36 more days until March 26th when the island was finally declared “secure”, a term that only meant the battle was officially over. Three thousand Japanese remained unaccounted for, the last not surrendering until January 6th, 1949. Of the 22,000 defenders, only 216 were captured alive and to this day Iwo Jima remains sacred ground to the Japanese.

 And it is sacred to the Marine Corps as well, for here 6,821 American’s died, and 19,217 were wounded, the only battle in the Pacific Theater where Marine casualties were more than the Japanese. It was also where the image of the flag raising on Mt. Suribachi entered the pantheon of military legend and forever seared the ethos of the United States Marine on the soul of the American spirit.

 A dispirited and war weary American public saw Joe Rosenthal’s immortal photo of February 23rd and glimpsed the final victory. But to the Marines on Iwo the flag raising was only the opening act, and of the six flag raisers three would be dead and one wounded before the battle was over.

 During the night of March 25th, 300 Japanese led by General Kuribayashi launched a banzai attack on the airmen and depot Marines at Motoyama #2. By morning they all lay dead in and around the tents of the airfield. The last of 28 Medals of Honor was awarded that night, and the last American had given his life taking the scab of volcanic ash that lay only 650 miles from mainland Japan.

 At the dedication of the 5th Marine Division cemetery Navy Chaplain Lieutenant Roland B. Gittelsohn said of the dead;

“Here before us lie the bodies of comrades and friends. Men who until yesterday or last week laughed with us, joked with us, trained with us. Men who were on the same ships with us, and went over the side with us as we prepared to hit the beaches of this island. Men who fought with us and feared with us. Somewhere in this plot of ground there may lie the man who could have discovered the cure for cancer. Under one of these Christian crosses, or beneath a Jewish Star of David, there may rest now a man who was destined to be a great prophet to find the way, perhaps, for all to live in plenty, with poverty and hardship for none. Now they lie silently in this sacred soil, and we gather to consecrate this earth to their memory.

It is not easy to do so. Some of us have buried our closest friends here. We saw these men killed before our very eyes. Any one of us might have died in their places; Indeed, some of us are alive and breathing at this very moment only because the men who lie here beneath us had the courage and the strength to give their lives, for ours. To speak in memory of such men as these is not easy. Of them too it can be said with utter truth: ‘The world will little note nor long remember what we say here. It can never forget what they did here.’

No, our power of speech can add nothing more to what these men and the other dead of our Division have already done. All that we can even hope to do is follow their example. To show the same selfless courage in peace that they did in war. To swear that by the grace of God and the stubborn strength and power of human will, their sons and ours shall never suffer these pains again. These men have done their job well. They have paid the ghastly price for freedom. If that freedom be once again lost, as it was after the last war, the unforgivable blame will be ours, not theirs. So it is we the living who are to be dedicated and consecrated.

We dedicate ourselves, first, to live together in peace the way we fought and are buried in this war. Here lie men who loved America because their ancestors’ generations ago helped in her founding, and other men who loved her with equal passion because they themselves or their own fathers escaped from oppression to her blessed shores.

Here lie officers and men, Negroes and whites, rich and poor together. Here no man prefers another because of his faith or despises him because of his color. Here there are no quotas of how many men from each group are admitted or allowed. Among these men there is no discrimination, no prejudices, no hatred. Theirs is the highest and purest Democracy…

…Thus do we memorialize those who, having ceased living with us, now live within us. Thus do we consecrate ourselves, the living, to carry on the struggle they began. Too much blood has gone into this soil for us to let it lie barren. Too much pain and heartache have fertilized the earth on which we stand. We here solemnly swear: This shall not be in vain!

Out of this, from the suffering and sorrow of those who mourn, this will come we promise the birth of a new freedom from the sons of men everywhere. AMEN.”

They went to war for their country, they fought for an ideal larger than themselves, but they died for their brothers. We are the beneficiaries of their sacrifice.

Continue Reading »Iwo

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