If you’re reading this, you’re no doubt asking yourself, “Why did this have to happen?” The simple truth is that it is complicated and has been coming for a long time. The writing process, started many months ago, was intended to be therapy in the face of the looming realization that there isn’t enough therapy in the world that can fix what is really broken. Needless to say, this rant could fill volumes with example after example if I would let it. I find the process of writing it frustrating, tedious, and probably pointless… especially given my gross inability to gracefully articulate my thoughts in light of the storm raging in my head. Exactly what is therapeutic about that I’m not sure, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
We are all taught as children that without laws there would be no society, only anarchy. Sadly, starting at early ages we in this country have been brainwashed to believe that, in return for our dedication and service, our government stands for justice for all. We are further brainwashed to believe that there is freedom in this place, and that we should be ready to lay our lives down for the noble principals represented by its founding fathers. Remember? One of these was “no taxation without representation”. I have spent the total years of my adulthood unlearning that crap from only a few years of my childhood. These days anyone who really stands up for that principal is promptly labeled a “crackpot”, traitor and worse.
While very few working people would say they haven’t had their fair share of taxes (as can I), in my lifetime I can say with a great degree of certainty that there has never been a politician cast a vote on any matter with the likes of me or my interests in mind. Nor, for that matter, are they the least bit interested in me or anything I have to say.
Why is it that a handful of thugs and plunderers can commit unthinkable atrocities (and in the case of the GM executives, for scores of years) and when it’s time for their gravy train to crash under the weight of their gluttony and overwhelming stupidity, the force of the full federal government has no difficulty coming to their aid within days if not hours? Yet at the same time, the joke we call the American medical system, including the drug and insurance companies, are murdering tens of thousands of people a year and stealing from the corpses and victims they cripple, and this country’s leaders don’t see this as important as bailing out a few of their vile, rich cronies. Yet, the political “representatives” (thieves, liars, and self-serving scumbags is far more accurate) have endless time to sit around for year after year and debate the state of the “terrible health care problem”. It’s clear they see no crisis as long as the dead people don’t get in the way of their corporate profits rolling in.
And justice? You’ve got to be kidding!
How can any rational individual explain that white elephant conundrum in the middle of our tax system and, indeed, our entire legal system? Here we have a system that is, by far, too complicated for the brightest of the master scholars to understand. Yet, it mercilessly “holds accountable” its victims, claiming that they’re responsible for fully complying with laws not even the experts understand. The law “requires” a signature on the bottom of a tax filing; yet no one can say truthfully that they understand what they are signing; if that’s not “duress” than what is. If this is not the measure of a totalitarian regime, nothing is.
How did I get here?
My introduction to the real American nightmare starts back in the early ‘80s. Unfortunately after more than 16 years of school, somewhere along the line I picked up the absurd, pompous notion that I could read and understand plain English. Some friends introduced me to a group of people who were having ‘tax code’ readings and discussions. In particular, zeroed in on a section relating to the wonderful “exemptions” that make institutions like the vulgar, corrupt Catholic Church so incredibly wealthy. We carefully studied the law (with the help of some of the “best”, high-paid, experienced tax lawyers in the business), and then began to do exactly what the “big boys” were doing (except that we weren’t steeling from our congregation or lying to the government about our massive profits in the name of God). We took a great deal of care to make it all visible, following all of the rules, exactly the way the law said it was to be done.
The intent of this exercise and our efforts was to bring about a much-needed re-evaluation of the laws that allow the monsters of organized religion to make such a mockery of people who earn an honest living. However, this is where I learned that there are two “interpretations” for every law; one for the very rich, and one for the rest of us… Oh, and the monsters are the very ones making and enforcing the laws; the inquisition is still alive and well today in this country.
That little lesson in patriotism cost me $40,000+, 10 years of my life, and set my retirement plans back to 0. It made me realize for the first time that I live in a country with an ideology that is based on a total and complete lie. It also made me realize, not only how naive I had been, but also the incredible stupidity of the American public; that they buy, hook, line, and sinker, the crap about their “freedom”… and that they continue to do so with eyes closed in the face of overwhelming evidence and all that keeps happening in front of them.
Before even having to make a shaky recovery from the sting of the first lesson on what justice really means in this country (around 1984 after making my way through engineering school and still another five years of “paying my dues”), I felt I finally had to take a chance of launching my dream of becoming an independent engineer.
On the subjects of engineers and dreams of independence, I should digress somewhat to say that I’m sure that I inherited the fascination for creative problem solving from my father. I realized this at a very young age.
The significance of independence, however, came much later during my early years of college; at the age of 18 or 19 when I was living on my own as student in an apartment in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. My neighbor was an elderly retired woman (80+ seemed ancient to me at that age) who was the widowed wife of a retired steel worker. Her husband had worked all his life in the steel mills of central Pennsylvania with promises from big business and the union that, for his 30 years of service, he would have a pension and medical care to look forward to in his retirement. Instead he was one of the thousands who got nothing because the incompetent mill management and corrupt union (not to mention the government) raided their pension funds and stole their retirement. All she had was social security to live on.
In retrospect, the situation was laughable because here I was living on peanut butter and bread (or Ritz crackers when I could afford to splurge) for months at a time. When I got to know this poor figure and heard her story I felt worse for her plight than for my own (I, after all, I thought I had everything to in front of me). I was genuinely appalled at one point, as we exchanged stories and commiserated with each other over our situations, when she in her grandmotherly fashion tried to convince me that I would be “healthier” eating cat food (like her) rather than trying to get all my substance from peanut butter and bread. I couldn’t quite go there, but the impression was made. I decided that I didn’t trust big business to take care of me, and that I would take responsibility for my own future and myself.
Return to the early ‘80s, and here I was off to a terrifying start as a ‘wet-behind-the-ears’ contract software engineer… and two years later, thanks to the fine backroom, midnight effort by the sleazy executives of Arthur Andersen (the very same folks who later brought us Enron and other such calamities) and an equally sleazy New York Senator (Patrick Moynihan), we saw the passage of 1986 tax reform act with its section 1706.
For you who are unfamiliar, here is the core text of the IRS Section 1706, defining the treatment of workers (such as contract engineers) for tax purposes. Visit this link for a conference committee report (http://www.synergistech.com/1706.shtml#ConferenceCommitteeReport) regarding the intended interpretation of Section 1706 and the relevant parts of Section 530, as amended. For information on how these laws affect technical services workers and their clients, read our discussion here (http://www.synergistech.com/ic-taxlaw.shtml).
SEC. 1706. TREATMENT OF CERTAIN TECHNICAL PERSONNEL.
(a) IN GENERAL – Section 530 of the Revenue Act of 1978 is amended by adding at the end thereof the following new subsection:
(d) EXCEPTION. – This section shall not apply in the case of an individual who pursuant to an arrangement between the taxpayer and another person, provides services for such other person as an engineer, designer, drafter, computer programmer, systems analyst, or other similarly skilled worker engaged in a similar line of work.
(b) EFFECTIVE DATE. – The amendment made by this section shall apply to remuneration paid and services rendered after December 31, 1986.
Note:
• • “another person” is the client in the traditional job-shop relationship.
• • “taxpayer” is the recruiter, broker, agency, or job shop.
• • “individual”, “employee”, or “worker” is you.

Admittedly, you need to read the treatment to understand what it is saying but it’s not very complicated. The bottom line is that they may as well have put my name right in the text of section (d). Moreover, they could only have been more blunt if they would have came out and directly declared me a criminal and non-citizen slave. Twenty years later, I still can’t believe my eyes.
During 1987, I spent close to $5000 of my ‘pocket change’, and at least 1000 hours of my time writing, printing, and mailing to any senator, congressman, governor, or slug that might listen; none did, and they universally treated me as if I was wasting their time. I spent countless hours on the L.A. freeways driving to meetings and any and all of the disorganized professional groups who were attempting to mount a campaign against this atrocity. This, only to discover that our efforts were being easily derailed by a few moles from the brokers who were just beginning to enjoy the windfall from the new declaration of their “freedom”. Oh, and don’t forget, for all of the time I was spending on this, I was loosing income that I couldn’t bill clients.
After months of struggling it had clearly gotten to be a futile exercise. The best we could get for all of our trouble is a pronouncement from an IRS mouthpiece that they weren’t going to enforce that provision (read harass engineers and scientists). This immediately proved to be a lie, and the mere existence of the regulation began to have its impact on my bottom line; this, of course, was the intended effect.
Again, rewind my retirement plans back to 0 and shift them into idle. If I had any sense, I clearly should have left abandoned engineering and never looked back.
Instead I got busy working 100-hour workweeks. Then came the L.A. depression of the early 1990s. Our leaders decided that they didn’t need the all of those extra Air Force bases they had in Southern California, so they were closed; just like that. The result was economic devastation in the region that rivaled the widely publicized Texas S&L fiasco. However, because the government caused it, no one gave a shit about all of the young families who lost their homes or street after street of boarded up houses abandoned to the wealthy loan companies who received government funds to “shore up” their windfall. Again, I lost my retirement.
Years later, after weathering a divorce and the constant struggle trying to build some momentum with my business, I find myself once again beginning to finally pick up some speed. Then came the .COM bust and the 911 nightmare. Our leaders decided that all aircraft were grounded for what seemed like an eternity; and long after that, ‘special’ facilities like San Francisco were on security alert for months. This made access to my customers prohibitively expensive. Ironically, after what they had done the Government came to the aid of the airlines with billions of our tax dollars … as usual they left me to rot and die while they bailed out their rich, incompetent cronies WITH MY MONEY! After these events, there went my business but not quite yet all of my retirement and savings.
By this time, I’m thinking that it might be good for a change. Bye to California, I’ll try Austin for a while. So I moved, only to find out that this is a place with a highly inflated sense of self-importance and where damn little real engineering work is done. I’ve never experienced such a hard time finding work. The rates are 1/3 of what I was earning before the crash, because pay rates here are fixed by the three or four large companies in the area who are in collusion to drive down prices and wages… and this happens because the justice department is all on the take and doesn’t give a fuck about serving anyone or anything but themselves and their rich buddies.
To survive, I was forced to cannibalize my savings and retirement, the last of which was a small IRA. This came in a year with mammoth expenses and not a single dollar of income. I filed no return that year thinking that because I didn’t have any income there was no need. The sleazy government decided that they disagreed. But they didn’t notify me in time for me to launch a legal objection so when I attempted to get a protest filed with the court I was told I was no longer entitled to due process because the time to file ran out. Bend over for another $10,000 helping of justice.
So now we come to the present. After my experience with the CPA world, following the business crash I swore that I’d never enter another accountant’s office again. But here I am with a new marriage and a boatload of undocumented income, not to mention an expensive new business asset, a piano, which I had no idea how to handle. After considerable thought I decided that it would be irresponsible NOT to get professional help; a very big mistake.
When we received the forms back I was very optimistic that they were in order. I had taken all of the years information to Bill Ross, and he came back with results very similar to what I was expecting. Except that he had neglected to include the contents of Sheryl’s unreported income; $12,700 worth of it. To make matters worse, Ross knew all along this was missing and I didn’t have a clue until he pointed it out in the middle of the audit. By that time it had become brutally evident that he was representing himself and not me.
This left me stuck in the middle of this disaster trying to defend transactions that have no relationship to anything tax-related (at least the tax-related transactions were poorly documented). Things I never knew anything about and things my wife had no clue would ever matter to anyone. The end result is… well, just look around.
I remember reading about the stock market crash before the “great” depression and how there were wealthy bankers and businessmen jumping out of windows when they realized they screwed up and lost everything. Isn’t it ironic how far we’ve come in 60 years in this country that they now know how to fix that little economic problem; they just steal from the middle class (who doesn’t have any say in it, elections are a joke) to cover their asses and it’s “business-as-usual”. Now when the wealthy fuck up, the poor get to die for the mistakes… isn’t that a clever, tidy solution.
As government agencies go, the FAA is often justifiably referred to as a tombstone agency, though they are hardly alone. The recent presidential puppet GW Bush and his cronies in their eight years certainly reinforced for all of us that this criticism rings equally true for all of the government. Nothing changes unless there is a body count (unless it is in the interest of the wealthy sows at the government trough). In a government full of hypocrites from top to bottom, life is as cheap as their lies and their self-serving laws.
I know I’m hardly the first one to decide I have had all I can stand. It has always been a myth that people have stopped dying for their freedom in this country, and it isn’t limited to the blacks, and poor immigrants. I know there have been countless before me and there are sure to be as many after. But I also know that by not adding my body to the count, I insure nothing will change. I choose to not keep looking over my shoulder at “big brother” while he strips my carcass, I choose not to ignore what is going on all around me, I choose not to pretend that business as usual won’t continue; I have just had enough.
I can only hope that the numbers quickly get too big to be white washed and ignored that the American zombies wake up and revolt; it will take nothing less. I would only hope that by striking a nerve that stimulates the inevitable double standard, knee-jerk government reaction that results in more stupid draconian restrictions people wake up and begin to see the pompous political thugs and their mindless minions for what they are. Sadly, though I spent my entire life trying to believe it wasn’t so, but violence not only is the answer, it is the only answer. The cruel joke is that the really big chunks of shit at the top have known this all along and have been laughing, at and using this awareness against, fools like me all along.
I saw it written once that the definition of insanity is repeating the same process over and over and expecting the outcome to suddenly be different. I am finally ready to stop this insanity. Well, Mr. Big Brother IRS man, let’s try something different; take my pound of flesh and sleep well.

The communist creed: From each according to his ability, to each according to his need.
The capitalist creed: From each according to his gullibility, to each according to his greed.

Joe Stack (1956-2010)
02/18/2010

I dont take Tuesday or Thursday classes, but I still work a screwed up schedule. If it wasn’t for my car, I would be busing it at all hours of the evening and more then likely would not get home until after 10pm during my evening class days. This makes it really inconvenient when it comes to riding the bus.

But remember the exponentially worse part? Yea my car just broke down. I am in dire straits right now. I have no idea what I’m going to do, but something tells me that me and my bike are going to get a little more acquainted. That might not be such a bad thing.

There are a couple of things going for me. I have a day off on Monday, well at least from work. School is still happening. If I can tear apart my car and mend the problem, I might be able to get it going by Monday. What I need right now is a miracle. It seems that I may be in the market for a newish car. Not something I can really afford right now, but I guess I have no choice. Oh well. Here goes nothing.

Safety should be a concern as riders run to the bus thinking that they have been seen by the bus driver. If the driver is not looking in the direction of the patron and drives off, the patron could be seriously injured if he or she crosses the path of the bus. If  the driver decides to leave, the customer is left standing in the heat or rain having to wait for another bus. This adds another 15 minutes to 45 minutes or even more to his or her ride. This is a serious customer service issue. One that Via Metropolitan Transit should be concerned with.

It seems that sometimes these drivers do this purposely. There is a saying, the rider waits for the bus, the bus doesn’t wait for the rider. What would their reaction be if the driver required assistance and was just told to hold on. If they went to discount tire and waited as everyone else got their tires but them. How would they feel?

I understand that some of these guys are running late and can’t wait for everyone, but please. I’ve seen many insances where the driver just doesn’t have any compassion. Too bad they’re too stupid to find other employment where they don’t have to serve anyone.

Honestly, Via Metropolitan Transit has to teach their drivers complete customer service, because even the poor who ride transit deserve some sort of dignity. They don’t need another person taking a crap on them.

Don’t get me wrong. Not every transit driver is a jerk. There are those who take pride in their job and treat everyone of their customers of with respect. That is the model that all Via drivers should adhere too. Respect your patrons. You never know when you are going to need their services and I guarantee, if you are at my mercy, I will hesitate to turn my head.

I knew I needed to increase my level of activity, eat healthier, and get my diabetes and blood pressure under control.  I needed to change my lifestyle in more then just an environmental standpoint.

It was time to have a conversation with a cardiologist. I don’t remember her name, and I probably will not ever see her again, but she reminded me of the Mrs. Garrett from Facts of Life.

She came in at 6 in the morning, which interrupted my 3 – 4 hours of sleep. After asking me the same questions about what happened to me, she gave me my options, and there weren’t too many.

One, I could take a stress test and if things turned out ok, I could go home. If things turned out less then optimal, I would have cardiac catheterization intervention. Or two, I could skip the stress test and just get the cardiac catheterization to see what was going on.

I said the hell with the stress test lets just get the Cardiac thing done. So now it was more waiting. In fact, by the time I had my heart cath, it was 48 hours after the onset of my first symptoms.

Next came the somewhat humbling part. I had to wear nothing but my gown, and because of the room traffic, had a hard time getting to bathroom, so I held my bladder.

By noon, I was taken to the OR holding, then to the OR where I would be having my procedure done. I was covered with blankets, had my gown taken off, covered with a hand towel on my groin, shaved, and covered with sterile sheets.

By 12:30 the cardiologist came in and started talking to me, I was given a sedative intravenously, and then without any notification, the procedure started. In fact, I didn’t realize the procedure started until I felt a little pressure. I thought that was the local anesthetic they were injecting me with, but it was actually her hands inserting the catheter into my femoral artery.

I was dozing off and on, and then I felt the burning sensation throughout my entire body. I mentioned that and the cardiologist acknowledged that that was the radiological contrast flowing through my body.

And then as quickly as it started it was over. My procedure lasted only 20 minutes. Others tend to last 30 to 45 minutes. Usually it’s because there is some intervention needed such as a Palmaz Stent insertion, or balloon angioplasty. I didn’t require any. I did have a slight blockage, but nothing that required any intervention yet.

I say that lightly because the intervention I require is correcting my diet and increasing my exercise level.

Though my procedure lasted only 20 minutes, my recovery was very different. I was required to lie flat on my back for over 5 and a half hours. Remember I had not gone to the bathroom since before the procedure, so I really had to go.

My ER doctor came to visit me after my procedure around 7 pm. He gave me the stern warning that I had to change my lifestyle if I wanted to live a comfortable life and he also said I could leave that evening. And so came more waiting.

In all, the physical stress my body is under has to change. I will need to increase my activity, change my diet, and control my blood pressure and diabetes. I want to live a long and fruitful life.  And if I want to run to my next bus stop without felling like my I may collapse any moment, I need to take care of and respect my body, because it’s the only one I have. 

I know I should have just stopped at the nearest hospital and get treatment right away if I suspected a heart attack or stroke. Instead, I took the bus home and ate dinner, took a shower, and then got a ride to the hospital where I was promptly seen.

First things first, I was taken back without questions, hooked up to an EKG machine, asked what seemed like thousands of questions, and quickly taken to a bed to await a doctor.

About 10 minutes of waiting, blood work was drawn. I can’t say exactly what was ordered, but my guess was a comprehensive panel, cbc, cpk, ck, A1C, Lipid Profile, and who knows what else.

Soon after a doctor visited me and showed genuine concern for my well being and asked me some questions concerning my symptoms to which I explained the details of my previous days event. He thought it would be best for me to stay, have a cardiologist see me and have a stress test to determine if I had any lessening of my heart capacity.

He left.

Then the wait occurred. I waited for at least 2-3 hours in the ER waiting to find out what was going to happen. I fell asleep, woke up, heard neighbors come and go, but nothing. I thought I was forgotten. Then another doctor came to visit. He did a more thorough examination, explained the same that the previous doctor had explained and thought I should be admitted.

When I arrived at the ER it was about 6:30 pm. By the time I made it to my hospital bed on the fifth floor, it was after midnight. I was weighed, had more blood drawn, my blood pressure was taken again, I was asked the same questions I had been asked twice before and then I was allowed to sleep for about 2 hours before I had to get my blood drawn and my blood pressure taken again.

To read more Continue to Part 3

I started to feel very uncomfortable, but luckily I was heading inside a mall store (my shortcut), but I knew I was hurting. People stared at me strangely as I walked past them, breathing hard with pressure in my upper torso.

I had to trot another 2 city blocks before making it to my bus, but had to wait in the 103 degree weather while the bus driver to his break at the Crossroads Park and Ride. I felt horrible. I knew I was out of shape, but this was not something I had ever experienced before. The pressure in my chest and pain in my left arm, the numbness in my legs, were all too much. I couldn’t catch my breath and I was sweating profusely.

When I did make it home, I took a nap and didn’t wake until 8 pm. The next day at work, I had a hard time keeping awake. I helped deliver some pay stubs to various floors when I finally realized I was hurting again. I actually walked down 1 flight of stairs. Yes, that’s right, I walked DOWN 1 flight of stairs and became short of breath and felt the same pressure as the day before.

This is when I decided enough was enough. I know I work in a hospital, but I had to go home and get to the hospital of my choice.

Stay tuned tomorrow for the rest of the story.

He replied, “Mom and Dad are both dead; I’m going to jump.”

She said, “Well, think of your wife and children.”

He replied, “I’m not married and I don’t have any kids.”

She said, “Well, Remember the Alamo.”

He replied, ”What’s the Alamo?”

She replied, ”Well bless your heart, just go ahead and jump, you dumb ass Yankee.”

Running Late

I’ve spent a while learning the transit system and I seem to have gotten the hang of getting around town. I understand the nature of timing my moves depending on either the time I have to be there or the time the bus is arriving.

Today I thought I would be a little adventurous and took a gamble. I planned on taking an express bus home which would have bought me about 15 minutes. I thought, if I could make the connection downtown, I would not have to sneak out so early from work and still make it home at the same time. I would also spend less time out waiting for my connecting bus meaning less time in the heat. For me, that would be a blessing I would enjoy.

So as I lead off in my excursion, testing the so-called waters, I realized I was doomed to fail. The bus was 5 minutes late. This meant there was no room for error since by I would be dropped off at my connection at 4:35 instead of 4:30. No problem, the express bus wouldn’t arrive until 4:35 or 4:40 at the latest. Halfway through the route, the driver notified us we were switching buses. Grrrrr. No problem the last time I took the express bus it was 8 minutes late. I could still make it.

We switched buses and sat there and waited.

One minute passes.

Two minutes pass.

Three minutes pass. Anytime now!!!

5 minutes later the bus driver finally leaves the switch point explaining that he hasn’t driven an old bus in a long while. Thinking to myself, maybe if you speed up I might make it. Then, one stop before my connection, figuring I still might make it, twenty people want to get on.

“This is not the 36?”

“No it’s not,” the bus driver says.

“Well the bus says it’s the 36,” the angry patron says.

“No, it’s the 26, “ explains the bus driver. I’m thinking to myself, “you have got to be kidding me” as I was three bus cross my path 3 blocks away. Anyone of those could have been my express, but the driver spent too much time trying to find the right code to get the sign righ

I had to take the 51 down to my side of town, which is no problem, only I’m going to be 30-40 minutes later getting home and I have to smell the “sweet” aroma of homeless person trying to get out of the heat. In any case, I will attempt this new adventure tomorrow. If it works, I will probably do this from now on. I hope the driver isn’t late tomorrow.

Cya,

Art