It has been suggested that if every time you received a paycheck you had to physically write a check to the state and federal government to cover your taxes there would be a second American Revolution. We are taxed far more than we realize or even want to realize. Our happy government feeds us figures based on surveys of what people THINK they pay in taxes, and it leaves out little things like, oh say Social Security contributions. The independent Tax Foundation, takes it a little more seriously and the National Taxpayer's Union even more so. The NTU says out of what we work to earn, we pay 10.6% in Federal taxes; 7.1% in Social Security taxes; employers pay 7.1%; 0.2% for gasoline and other excises; 2.2% in sales taxes; 3.9% for state and local income taxes; 0.6% share of corporate income; 15% on production taxes and 3.7% on "other" taxes. They contend we pay over fifty percent of our hard-earned pay on taxes. Whatever the actual figure is, if we wrote separate checks for these taxes every pay period and dutifully sent them off to Washington we'd be outraged and righteously so. As it is, we're being bled dry by hidden costs underlying all our earning and spending. Time for another tea party.


I have to learn Lingo so I can put fun Shockwave stuff on my personal sites. I'm looking at my Lingo books. I should read them. I should learn them. I don't want to. I hate code. Like music, I play by ear not by little black dots with stems on a staff. Ugh, that's not music that's code. You can't really depict music with a pen. You can only give a graphical representation of a mathematical evaluation of what happens when in time and where on the scale. That's code. My ex-brother in law, (now I guess he's my brother outlaw) wrote computer programs that would compose music in the style of famous dead composers. He used math. It sure sounded like classical music but it was math. Oh well, I guess into each life a little code must fall and if it allows me to do Stupid Net Tricks then I will have at it. My favorite Shockwave site this week is a punching match between you and some celebrity you're likely to dislike. I chose Tori Spelling and Rush Limbaugh and beat the hell out of both of them. It was an oddly satisfying experience.


So alleged child molester-cum-King of Pop Michael Jackson's dermatologist is having his baby. (Cue Paul Anka please.) What a lovely way of expressing a desire for a lot of money. But hold on, here is what Wacko Jacko (soon-to-be the King of Poppa?) has to say: "The reports speculating that Ms. Rowe was artificially inseminated, and that there is any economic relationship, are completely false and irresponsible." Oh, well excuse us. As a loyal employee of Mr. Jackson's I'm sure Debby Rowe didn't feel any economic pressure to have his offspring, and saw no benefit in same. As I understand it, if this soon-to-be biological mom decides at the last moment she doesn't want to give the child to Michael, she is within her rights to simply keep it. I would suggest she do this, then sell the kid to Paul McCartney, who could then trade it back to Jackson for all of the Beatle songs Michael now owns. A little bargain. This could mean we wouldn't have to hear our favorite Fab Four songs used in GTE and Nike commercials anymore. By the way, if Michael insists on giving the kid a nose job, would this be considered child abuse?


I live in Boulder where yuppies drive around in sixty thousand dollar designer Jeeps with bumper stickers like: "Animals Have Rights Too!" I started thinking about animal rights. An animal's basic god-given right is to run like hell when a predator is trying to eat it. That's about it. Anything beyond that is a privilege, usually granted by a sentient human nearby. Do cows in corrals have rights? I would say instead of rights, the rancher who raised, fed and will deliver them to slaughter has responsibilities to those cows. Animal traps are a trickier issue. Here in Colorado ranchers need to keep varmints from killing their cash crop as animal activists tell horrifying tales of creatures gnawing their own limbs off to escape a painful leg trap. Does that predetor have a "right" to hunt calves on the farmer's land? And does the predetor have a "right" to be dealt with in a humane manner upon discovery? The answer I've chosen is to simply eliminate meat from my diet, live longer, healthier and cheaper, and not be part of the problem. That's my right.


In honor of the release of The Beatles Anthology 3 album and chatrooms everywhere, I give you: HELL IN A CHATROOM

(sung to the tune of Elenor Rigby -- with apologies to Paul McCartney)

See poor Patricia
She has no friends so she tries to find some on the net
Look what she gets

Goes to a chat room
Wastes all her time on the line with a loser from France
Wearing no pants

All the lonely chatters
They lie about their sex
All the lonely chatters
They'll have your address next

Look at them whining
Say "wassup" three times and be sure to ask them their age
Reload the page

Pretence and posing
Acting like someone you're not as if anyone cared
Your password's shared

All the lonely chatters
Nowhere real to go
All the lonely chatters
Why is the web so slow?
AHHHHH look at all the lonely chatters
(tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap)
AHHHHH look at all the lonely chatters
(tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap)

Johnny come lately
His newbie mistakes get him flamed but he doesn't care
At least someone's there

Ten year old Billy
His online avatar Fabio flirts with the girls
But they aren't girls

All the lonely chatters
Where do they all sign on?
All the lonely chatters
With a smiley face they're gone