For instance, some might think he meant that anybody who is on social security is a slave, a notion reinforced when the managing editor walked in and said, “Boy, you call that PR girl about the boat show special? Ain’t you on social security? You think you’re entitled to lay around all day drinking beer like a schmuck? You do your blog yet, boy? You know it’s Tuesday, and I need your stupid blog on Tuesdays.”
Back on topic. Congressman West complained that around 3.2 million people went on social security disability since 2009, suggesting there are lots of louts looking for any excuse not to work. Now that gets close to home because one of our brother slaves, a highly skilled engineer whose had an ability to dominate young engineers who worked for him, wound up on the street when too many of his slaves complained to the boss man. So he applied for social security on the grounds that because his boss would no longer let him treat his engineers like slaves, he was unable to work, i.e. disabled. He got his check.
We started getting ours the legitimate way a few years later, and this has been going on for a decade. We feel pretty guilty, even though we are still paying FICA, even after 60 years. FICA is the money they take out of your paycheck every week as long as you work so that you can feel good when you starting getting some of it back when you are too old to spend it.
Which prompted a call to our CPA to find how it is going into FICA compared with our monthly check. He got on his computer and ran a bunch of numbers and said, “Understand?" and we said no, and he ran more numbers and we were even more confused. Then he said, “One has nothing to do with the other – if you had the money you gave the government since you were 15 and put it in a mutual fund, you’d be a millionaire.”
That really made us feel like slaves, and we began to understand Congressman West’s point, and that depressed us so we went to a bar and when we came back the managing editor said, “Boy, you call that PR girl back?” and then, a little groggy and set upon, we fell asleep and dreamed we were somewhere far away and people were rounding us up and putting us on a boat.
“What’s up?” we asked.
“We’re shipping you out, boy. You’re a slave.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means you get a check from the U.S. Treasury every month for doing nothing.” The nice man put down his whip and handed us a check for more money than we had ever seen.
“Boy, I like this job!” we chirped.
“And you get one like this every month, and every year it goes up with the cost of living over there.” We thanked him profusely and pushed aside people who were fighting to get on the boat. And as we sailed into the sunset, we heard the nice man shout: “Bon voyage, and tell them Allen sent you.”