Po-boy Views
By
Phil LaMancusa
Mba-kayere
Or
Rhapsody In Blue
Monday we got together for farewell cocktails with Robert, who has moved back to The City of Angels. Tuesday we met at Claire’s to wish Nita happy Birthday, she stayed for a few days after the storm and her cat made it, she’s staying for now. Thursday, Matt the cook, from down the block, came by to tell us that he’s going back to (don’t call it ‘Frisco) San Francisco. Friday at May Bailey’s we said goodbye to Bea, who is moving to New Mexico. Larry’s in from Saint Louis, but, he’s going back.
People that have moved back are moving away again, maybe this time for good. The first cook at Muriel’s is moving because he can’t find an affordable place for his family to live. It’s a damn shame.
Mba-kayere is a Sudanese word whispered in the dark, a mantra if you will. It is a survivor’s word of exhalation. When screaming Arabs waving scimitars are coming at you in your dreams; and hunchbacks, lepers, amputees and aliens of all descriptions have come out of their secret hiding spaces to watch the fun… When ‘no one speaks English and everything’s broken’… When you lose both chimneys, roofing siding, gutters and a big ass tree is occupying space on your upstairs front porch where you sat last night…
When the levees vomit into your city and “when the levees break…Mama you got to move”. When you’ve commandeered a car after six days and get the hell out of Dodge with seven critters and three nervous wrecks of human beings, you can rightfully say Mba-kayere---I am passed over.
But is being spared enough? People that I know are not/have not evacuated…they’ve evaporated. Do I know what it means to miss New Orleans?
I joke with people who don’t know or suddenly, without warning I start regurgitating my frustration and my rage. The sandbox has gotten smaller, but it’s still a sandbox.
Here’s what I tell people before they slowly back away --- I still need to lock my doors, my bike and my inner most feelings. What’s for dinner, even almost a year later, is what my local grocery store can get in. Not having a car is claustrophobic and I won’t be able to fully breathe until I have a way out of a place that I never before could conceive I would want to leave. I’m just now catching up on making my living space comfortable enough to live in, and it’s dangerous again to be out in the streets without a Sherman Tank.
I used to think that it was funny that, when you went into a restaurant and asked for the non-smoking section, the waiter removed the ashtray from the table and told you to sit down. Now I want to scream: “THIS IS NO JOKE!!”
This city is a logic vacuum. No matter what you may think or say that comes close to logic is swallowed into nothingness, like the dreams that you had where you were screaming and nothing comes out, where you’re running and your feet won’t move, where the Arabs with scimitars are breathing down your neck. And you suddenly woke up. And your dream faded into nothingness. And you wonder what it was that troubled your sleep, certainly it was nothing logical.
And just to speak into that vacuum let’s try these out; and you know this is no post K bandwagon that I’m jumping on. Those of you (both of you) that have been reading me for the last six years know that I’ve been saying things like this for years:
Why do we have murders, muggings and armed robberies and no one has considered gun control? Are we afraid that we’re gonna piss off some dirt bag that wants us to believe that there is any reason to own a working assault rifle?
I guess that maybe gun control is too logical, besides, it would take away from my right to own a gun so that I could defend myself against some dirt bag that wants to murder, mug or armed rob me. Now why didn’t I think of that?
Or how about this one: we can’t bring back over half of our citizens because there’s no place to live. That’s BS. There are plenty of places to live, but try to find one that you can afford and that becomes a different ball of wax. I know people that came back from evacuation to find their stuff on the street and their apartment rented to FEMA. I know people who’s rent was doubled and they were evicted and their space rented to a FEMA family, forcing them to go to FEMA to find a place to live. Here on Royal St. there was a business that was paying over $5,000.00 a month rent, they left because of the storm and the storm ruined their store. With the repairs not finished even into November, the land lord told them that he needed September, October and November’s rent and that come December to be prepared to pay rent of at least $7,000.00 Now with this type of activity abounding, does it sound too logical to consider some form of tenants rights or rent control? I guess so.
San Francisco has raised it’s minimum wage to $8.50 an hour. San Francisco is doing fine. We voted a couple of years ago to up ours by a buck (yes we did, we voted for it!) IT NEVER HAPPENED and we complain about our poverty level.
Well, our citizens are coming back, our children are tap dancing in the streets again, our hustlers are working their corners again and our populace complain about the garbage as they throw their trash and cigarette butts into our streets. And when you take this rhapsody as the pulse of our city maybe we deserve to flat line. I don’t think so. My porch light is always on to keep away the boogey men. My street is kept cleaned. I walk home at night praying that one of the statistics of street crime tomorrow won’t be me, and when I’m home, and when I wake up in the morning and when the weather report doesn’t mention a storm…. Mba-kayere.
Showing posts with label Finances in New Orleans. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Finances in New Orleans. Show all posts
Friday, August 15, 2008
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Paying Taxes in New Orleans
Po Boy Views
By
Phil LaMancusa
April Fool
0r
Death And Taxes
Well yes, death and taxes are reliable constants in our lives, despite several treatises, on both subjects, to the contrary. AND, as you know, coming up April fifteenth, the subject of the thirteenth amendment (income tax) will be once again at your throat and pocketbooks like a frothing, filthy rabid cur. Whether you like it…….or not.
Starting in January with our I9s and W2s, the evidences of taxes that were taken out and statements of the money that we earned for the previous year will rear it’s ugly head, for a reckoning, not to be assuaged until your Uncle is paid his pound of flesh. It doesn’t matter that your bills (another of the constants in our lives) have eaten away every penny that you’ve made, like a school of piranhas.
When it comes to money, my motto is “If you’ve got it…SPEND IT!!!” That’s it, pass it around, tip huge, pick up the tab, spring for it, buy it now. Take life in big bites. You know why? Because Trouble, with a capital T, is right behind that tree, and one aspect of Trouble is that whatever form it takes is gonna cost you! Chalk that up as another constant: Trouble.
An additional constant in life is work (a four-letter word, of course). Why do we work, you may or may not have asked yourself? Of course, to pay for other constants in our lives, namely: food, clothing, shelter and…Trouble, and they all come in many forms and all cost money.
Food, as you know, comes in many forms; from that coffee and croissant in the morning to Cote du Rhone and raclette in the evenings. Coke and popcorn, spaghetti and meatballs, tofu and brown rice, and filet of reindeer with duck liver foie gras and a red wine chocolate sauce; all feeding the hunger of our souls and bodies. Garlic.
Clothing? Well; aside from our ever-changing sizes from all that eating, clothing is the ‘front’ that we exhibit, to the world, spotlighting our image of ourselves. Clothing is our costumes, our disguises, our identities, our statements about who we are. Those simple black dresses, wife beaters, overalls, cowboy boots, Guayabanas, Hawaiian print shirts, tight ass jeans, straw hats and ‘catch me- fuck me’ pumps. Clothing says “see who I am” or in some cases “see who I’m not”.
Shelter is another story. Shelter basically is what we can afford, as close to being comfortable with the person that we would like to be, that meets the our individual needs of light, resting space and toilet facilities. If we are higher on the shelter chain we’re likely to add ambiance, cooking and dining spaces, closets for all that clothing and perhaps a home entertainment section complete with digital clock radio. It goes without saying that a lock on the door is always a good idea. Fresh towels and clean bedding bridge the clothing/shelter criteria gap.
Here’s a disclaimer: none of the above have any relevance if you throw family members into the mix. When you are part of a family; Papa, Mama or Baby bear, you have absolutely no individual rights. Why do you think kids want to run away from home? Why do you think people have affairs? Why do you think we are glued to the television watching programs where every character has individual rights?
If a person on a television show has a relationship and doesn’t have a break-up impending…that show is on the ropes. Many shows have multiple individuals in the throes of beginning, ending or ‘happy ever after’ affairs. They don’t count.
The other reason for working; and believe me there’s no future in work, is to support and pay for our passions, obsessions, luxuries, compulsions, and the other things we need in order to spoil ourselves.
From that weekend getaway to the South of France to buy art, to trips to the groomer for Rover, books that we’ll never read, fine beverages and smart cocktails and all the sex, drugs and Rock and Roll between; we pay to please ourselves.
Compound that with the twelve major insurance policies that we need, credit card fees, fines, utilities, tune ups for the evacuation vehicle, student loans and that penalty for early withdrawal (you know who you are). It’s a wonder that we can sleep at night. Internet and cell phones? Co-payments and deductibles? We must be nuts!
And then, your income tax, Social Security, sales tax, unemployment deductions, 401K, IRA, CDs, money for stamps and that special cat food because the vet told you Fluffy’s got kidney disease. Your toilet paper is taxed, how wrong is that? You get taxed to wipe your…never mind.
Steve Martin once gave a short sermon entitled “How to be a millionaire and NEVER pay taxes” He said it was simple: first you get a million dollars, and then, don’t pay taxes. Simple. Oh, then he added that if the government asked you why you didn’t pay taxes, just say “I forgot!” that’s right, he explained, just say “I forgot!” Yeah, try it.
There are two ways around taxes 1. Claim that you are a writer, critic, consultant or tutor. Then get a good tax person. Part of your rent, utilities and office supplies will be written off. Trips that you take, books that you buy and the cost of cleaning your clothes are all tax deductible down to the laundering of your socks. Also what you pay the tax person is, itself, tax deductible. I knew a woman once that went to Italy for five months, came back, wrote an article about it (never published) and took the whole trip off her income tax. Moral: spend it and then write it off. And if you have a business…don’t make money that you can’t write off. I heard about a man in a mansion with a half a mil a year trust fund, always spent it all and never had to pay a dime in taxes. If I had room, I’d tell you how.
The second way to avoid taxes is simpler, but more extreme. Die.
By
Phil LaMancusa
April Fool
0r
Death And Taxes
Well yes, death and taxes are reliable constants in our lives, despite several treatises, on both subjects, to the contrary. AND, as you know, coming up April fifteenth, the subject of the thirteenth amendment (income tax) will be once again at your throat and pocketbooks like a frothing, filthy rabid cur. Whether you like it…….or not.
Starting in January with our I9s and W2s, the evidences of taxes that were taken out and statements of the money that we earned for the previous year will rear it’s ugly head, for a reckoning, not to be assuaged until your Uncle is paid his pound of flesh. It doesn’t matter that your bills (another of the constants in our lives) have eaten away every penny that you’ve made, like a school of piranhas.
When it comes to money, my motto is “If you’ve got it…SPEND IT!!!” That’s it, pass it around, tip huge, pick up the tab, spring for it, buy it now. Take life in big bites. You know why? Because Trouble, with a capital T, is right behind that tree, and one aspect of Trouble is that whatever form it takes is gonna cost you! Chalk that up as another constant: Trouble.
An additional constant in life is work (a four-letter word, of course). Why do we work, you may or may not have asked yourself? Of course, to pay for other constants in our lives, namely: food, clothing, shelter and…Trouble, and they all come in many forms and all cost money.
Food, as you know, comes in many forms; from that coffee and croissant in the morning to Cote du Rhone and raclette in the evenings. Coke and popcorn, spaghetti and meatballs, tofu and brown rice, and filet of reindeer with duck liver foie gras and a red wine chocolate sauce; all feeding the hunger of our souls and bodies. Garlic.
Clothing? Well; aside from our ever-changing sizes from all that eating, clothing is the ‘front’ that we exhibit, to the world, spotlighting our image of ourselves. Clothing is our costumes, our disguises, our identities, our statements about who we are. Those simple black dresses, wife beaters, overalls, cowboy boots, Guayabanas, Hawaiian print shirts, tight ass jeans, straw hats and ‘catch me- fuck me’ pumps. Clothing says “see who I am” or in some cases “see who I’m not”.
Shelter is another story. Shelter basically is what we can afford, as close to being comfortable with the person that we would like to be, that meets the our individual needs of light, resting space and toilet facilities. If we are higher on the shelter chain we’re likely to add ambiance, cooking and dining spaces, closets for all that clothing and perhaps a home entertainment section complete with digital clock radio. It goes without saying that a lock on the door is always a good idea. Fresh towels and clean bedding bridge the clothing/shelter criteria gap.
Here’s a disclaimer: none of the above have any relevance if you throw family members into the mix. When you are part of a family; Papa, Mama or Baby bear, you have absolutely no individual rights. Why do you think kids want to run away from home? Why do you think people have affairs? Why do you think we are glued to the television watching programs where every character has individual rights?
If a person on a television show has a relationship and doesn’t have a break-up impending…that show is on the ropes. Many shows have multiple individuals in the throes of beginning, ending or ‘happy ever after’ affairs. They don’t count.
The other reason for working; and believe me there’s no future in work, is to support and pay for our passions, obsessions, luxuries, compulsions, and the other things we need in order to spoil ourselves.
From that weekend getaway to the South of France to buy art, to trips to the groomer for Rover, books that we’ll never read, fine beverages and smart cocktails and all the sex, drugs and Rock and Roll between; we pay to please ourselves.
Compound that with the twelve major insurance policies that we need, credit card fees, fines, utilities, tune ups for the evacuation vehicle, student loans and that penalty for early withdrawal (you know who you are). It’s a wonder that we can sleep at night. Internet and cell phones? Co-payments and deductibles? We must be nuts!
And then, your income tax, Social Security, sales tax, unemployment deductions, 401K, IRA, CDs, money for stamps and that special cat food because the vet told you Fluffy’s got kidney disease. Your toilet paper is taxed, how wrong is that? You get taxed to wipe your…never mind.
Steve Martin once gave a short sermon entitled “How to be a millionaire and NEVER pay taxes” He said it was simple: first you get a million dollars, and then, don’t pay taxes. Simple. Oh, then he added that if the government asked you why you didn’t pay taxes, just say “I forgot!” that’s right, he explained, just say “I forgot!” Yeah, try it.
There are two ways around taxes 1. Claim that you are a writer, critic, consultant or tutor. Then get a good tax person. Part of your rent, utilities and office supplies will be written off. Trips that you take, books that you buy and the cost of cleaning your clothes are all tax deductible down to the laundering of your socks. Also what you pay the tax person is, itself, tax deductible. I knew a woman once that went to Italy for five months, came back, wrote an article about it (never published) and took the whole trip off her income tax. Moral: spend it and then write it off. And if you have a business…don’t make money that you can’t write off. I heard about a man in a mansion with a half a mil a year trust fund, always spent it all and never had to pay a dime in taxes. If I had room, I’d tell you how.
The second way to avoid taxes is simpler, but more extreme. Die.
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