Today, I randomly opened Eternal Road – The final stop to page 111. With eyes closed, I pointed to the page. The word nearest my finger is “Wringer,” which is our prompt.
Since August marks the anniversary of the first income tax’s establishment in 1861, I thought it would be fun to travel back and take in the atmosphere of what must have been an eventful time. The income tax was established to pay for the Civil War. Of course, we must follow some time-travel rules, so here is a list to help keep us from creating a time disruption or tear in the continuum.
Top Ten Things Not to Do on the First Tax Day in 1861.
10 On the first tax day, do not try to find an H&R Block office for relief. If you do, at best, it will be an ice supply house. At worst, you will raise so much concern from those you ask that they will point you out to the tax collector. (The belief that you are trying to avoid your tax obligation is what ended up with you behind bars, Issac. Just tell them you made a mistake and intend to pay, and maybe they’ll let you go.)
9 On the first tax day, do not tell Tiny the WWF champ that he can’t come in to assess your net worth. If you do, at best, he will come in anyway. At worst, Tiny, who just left his rejection support group meeting, will reduce the place to sawdust. (The upside to Tiny’s visit, Iulio, is you have no assets and therefore don’t owe any tax. Let’s not talk of the downside.)
8 On the first tax day, do not try to deduct your stay and meals as a business expense. If you do, at best, you will be laughed out of the room. At worst, the tax collector will call the Marshall, and you’ll be labeled as the first tax fraud case in the US. (The first tax was a 3% flat rate over 800 dollars ($13,000 today) of income, Iwdael. There are no deductions. Now tell the man you are sorry and cough up the money.)
7 On the first Tax day, do not carry your “No Taxation Without Representation,” protest sign. If you do, at best, no one will be able to read. At worst, you will be invited to spend the night at the Hoosegow Hotel. (These new revenuers have no sense of humor, Izeyah. I wouldn’t press my luck any further.)
6 On the first tax day, do not try to pay for your tax with corn. If you do, at best, the agent will think you are joking. At worst, they’ll assume you are trying to evade your taxes. (You have to admit, Izreal trying to unload 100 bushels of corn in the tax office looks a little suspicious. You’ll find a broom and shovel in the corner. Best to clean up the mess before you leave.)
5 On the first tax day, do not try to convince the tax collector that you are part of the 97% of the population that does not earn 800 dollars a year. If you do, at best the collector will respect your attempt at avoiding the tax. At worst, the collector just declared to his staff that the next person who tries to lie about their income will be shot. (I think you’d better cough up the tax quickly, Ian. That collector is resting his hand on a very big six-shooter.)
4 On the first Tax day, do not show up in your most elegant clothes on the best horse. If you do, at best, the collector won’t notice. At worst, since your clothes and horse are better than the collector’s, your bill will be higher than it should be. (At this stage, Ibrahim, you might as well just pay it. Why you didn’t think to wear those old shoes and overalls is beyond me. You could have parked your horse down the street too.)
3 On the first tax day, do not try to dazzle the tax collector with stacks of paperwork proving your lack of income. If you do, at best, they’ll ignore you. At worst, the agent will assume you are up to something illegal and double your tax assessment. (It would have been better just to tell them the truth, Igore. After all, 3% is not a lot to pay.)
2 On the first tax day, do not put in an application to join the IRS. If you do, at best, no one will understand you. At worst, you’ll give away your time traveler status since the IRS wasn’t established until 1862. (Well, easy come, easy go, Ishmael. It is now time to hit the bricks and get back to your own timezone. Otherwise, you might be spending a lot of time in a very damp and chilly place.)
1 On the first tax day, do not think you can tell the tax collector to send you a bill. If you do, at best, the collector will share a laugh with you. At worst, the collector will take measures to collect the tax today. ( That big guy in the corner is the enforcer, Ignatius. His job is to extract the payment right now. He has been known to hold some by their ankles until the money falls to the floor. Just save us all the misery and pay the bill.)
Today we are going to the Lakeway Activity Center to stroll around the All-City Garage Sale. Joe’s Bakery and Coffee Shop is catering for us. Our entertainment is Smokey Robinson and the Miracles.
Menu
Hop on. Let’s go
The activity center.
If you don’t want to take your unsold stuff home, you can donate it.
Speaking of donations, here are three ways to do it for an entry fee.
A quick look at the selling area.
Lots of stuff and a chair.
Here is something for everyone. A little Christmas, too.
Looks like a handbag central with some clothes thrown in.
Drinkware, jewelry, and whatnot.
Mostly holiday stuff.
Handmade jewelry.
China and chairs.
Toys.
Cookware and trinkets.
Novelties and a hose.
Golf balls. Lots of golf balls
Well, that is it. I hope you got a good idea of what the Garage sale was all about. Time for food and music. I hope you have a wonderful week.
The only reason survival is possible is coffee. That golden elixir is the only self-medication that stops the spike-driving, rail-laying, metal-on-metal sound in my head from caffeine withdrawal. The aroma alerts my senses to be prepared for soothing peace.
The first sip quells the noise. The second sip, as we are all too familiar, is accompanied by the falling grand piano in the Grand Canyon sound as it hits the floor, a combination of Westminster chimes of the doorbell and the bark to St. Louis, picture window smashing sound of Twiggy and Tempeste treating the idiot who can’t read the do not ring the doorbell sign as a threat to life and limb. A quick toss of peanut butter-stuffed Kong toys into the soundproof room, and a slam of the door hails the arrival of the peace train.
A check of the monitor shows Marc Antony, the Bulldog, with a clipboard and letter. Knowing conversation is futile, the security shutdown process is begun.
The B-2 bomber squadron and the F-35 escort must be called off. One call does it. The tank corps and gunboats are told to stand by. The Apache helicopters are rerouted. The electric shock fence is turned off. The drawbridge over the quicksand is lowered. The robot attack dogs returned to their charging station. The laser-guided machine guns on the roof are set to caution. The nest filled with rattlesnakes put away. The bucket filled with 1000 marbles is locked down. The tear gas canisters shut off. The electrified welcome mat set to off. The fall-away sidewalk into the pit filled with spikes is locked. The hornet’s nest closed. The water cannons are set to safety. Bear traps are set to off. Peregrine Falcons perched on the roof above front door fed. The vat of boiling oil set to warm. Monty Python’s Harmless Little Rabbit’s cage is closed. The front door is opened.
The Bulldog gives me the letter and clipboard, which is signed and returned. A fiver is clipped to the board, so the Bulldog smiles and makes his exit. Once inside, the letter seems to be from Linda Hill and says: Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is ‘reason.” Use it any way you’d like. Enjoy!
To see what others have done with the prompt, visit Linda’s post. Here is the link.
Before we cover the good news today, let’s not forget the innocent people who lost their lives at the hands of fanatic Islamists on September 11, 2001- twenty-five years ago. I planned not to run a good news feature on this tragic anniversary, but I feel we should keep focusing on the good news when there is so much bad news in this world.
Today’s good news story comes from Diario AS and was sent to me by Noelle Granger, reporter at large. Thanks, Noelle
Mexico protected more than 1 million monarch butterflies in 1980. Decades later, they’ve created a one-of-a-kind ecosystem
The monarch butterfly’s migration is one of nature’s greatest journeys. Every fall, millions of monarchs travel more than 2,500 miles from southern Canada and the northern United States to spend the winter in the cool oyamel fir forests of central Mexico.
But behind this extraordinary spectacle lies a story of government protection, scientific discovery, and ecological recovery that permanently changed conservation efforts across North America.
After the first federal conservation decrees were issued in 1980 to protect the butterflies’ overwintering grounds, authorities safeguarded forests that host well over one million monarchs. Those protections laid the foundation for a protected ecosystem that now covers more than 139,000 acres.
The 1980 decree that changed everything
For decades, the exact location of the monarch butterflies’ winter colonies in Mexico’s mountains remained known only to local communities. That changed in the mid-1970s, when international researchers working alongside Mexican scientists mapped key overwintering sites in the Sierra Chincua and Cerro Pelón mountains.
In 1980, Mexico’s federal government issued its first presidential conservation decrees to formally protect the forests where enormous monarch colonies gathered each winter. Individual sites often contained well over one million butterflies.
The move helped curb uncontrolled logging in some of the most important habitats and marked the beginning of what would eventually become the Monarch Butterfly Biosphere Reserve. Today, the protected area stretches across municipalities including Zitácuaro, Ocampo and Angangueo in the state of Michoacán, as well as Temascaltepec and San José del Rincón in the State of Mexico.
A UNESCO-recognized sanctuary
Covering 139,000 acres (56,259 hectares), the Monarch Butterfly Biosphere Reserve sits about 60 miles northwest of Mexico City in a mountainous region filled with dense forests. Its varying elevations create a range of microclimates that support numerous native plants and animals found nowhere else.
Every fall, millions — and in some years perhaps as many as a billion — monarch butterflies from across North America gather in small patches of forest within the reserve. Their bright orange wings blanket the trees so completely that entire hillsides appear to change color.
The sheer weight of so many butterflies can even bend tree branches.
When spring arrives, the monarchs begin their remarkable return journey north. Over the next eight months, the migration unfolds across four successive generations as the butterflies spread through the United States and into eastern Canada.
Despite decades of scientific research, one mystery remains unsolved: exactly how each new generation finds its way back to the same forests in central Mexico where its ancestors spent the winter.
The good news is that the Mexican government’s protection has ensured the Monarch’s survival. Today’s JohnKu talks about government action. I hope you have a super weekend.
Today I randomly opened The Last Drive to page 145 and, with my eyes closed, pointed to it. The word closest to my finger is “transport.” This is our prompt today.
This post ran first on Labor Day 2015 and every Labor Day after that. I thought it was pretty good advice, so here it is again.
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In honor of Labor Day, I’ve decided to boil the top ten list down to the most essential items. Let’s all remember those who make our lives easier and more pleasant. Of course, the remembrance includes us authors.
Top Ten Things Not to Do on Labor Day
10 through 1
On Labor Day, have fun, but do not drink and drive. If you do, at best, you are a fool. At worst, you could hurt or kill an innocent person, not to mention your guilty self.
