Friday, April 17, 2009

ALL MAXED OUT!

Or should I say taxed out? April 15th, along with my money, came and went. Uncle Sam decided that I needed to pay. When you go to sleep tonight, rest assured that the Air Force is flying high, the Navy is sailing, and the Army is over hill and dale. Also rest assured that those &$%#@^*&$ in Washington are spending it before they even get it. And to think, I made it all possible. A simple “Thank you, taxpayers “ would be nice. Not even a card at Christmas!

I love America, where else can you write a blogue, say what you want and not worry about anybody reading it?

Actually, when my grandparents came to these shores, they took with them the sense of hope and found that you could buy pasta and make a brazziola in either pork or beef!

Now take my Great Uncle Felix, or Zio Felice, as we called him. Uncle Felix was about 4’ high and had a 4’ mustache. Coming over from “the other side”, he wore a black suit, with a gray fedora and brown shoes. As he stood on the stern of the ‘Joe Garibaldi’, right out of Naploli, he asked if they had macaroni in America. When they told him; “No” he jumped over-board. His wife, Rose, a sweet young thing leaned over the railing and yelled: “Ritornare a bordo, lei l'idioto!” (Roughly translated: “we were only kidding!”)

Paying taxes is a privilege. So is jury duty. Any more privileges and I defect to Connecticut, which left the Union years ago, but never told anybody!

Speaking of my great uncle Felix. My Great Uncle Felix, along with Aunt Rose had been experiencing declining memory, so they decided to take a power memory class where one is taught to remember things by association.

A few days after the class, Uncle Felix was outside talking with his neighbor about how much the class helped him.

"What was the name of the Instructor?" asked the neighbor.

"Oh, ummmm, let'sa see," Uncle Felix pondered. "You knowa that flower, you knowa, the one that smellsa really nizea but hasa those prickly thorns, what'sa that flower's a name?"

"A rose?" asked the neighbor.

"Yes, that'sa right," replied Uncle Felix. He then turned toward his house and shouted, "Eh, A Rose, what'sa the name of the Instructor we tooka the memory class from?"

As they say: It’s so cold outside, the politicians have their hands in their own pockets! Really, they say that.

Please remember my brother-in-law John, and all those that need our prayers.

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