Wednesday, March 08, 2006

When you're sitting back
In your rose-pink Cadillac
Makin' bets on Kentucky Derby days

Interesting article on taxpayer "revolt" over increased property taxes. I say "interesting," because it is funny (to me) that so many people are riding high on the real estate bubble... and then turn around and bitch that their homes are assessed at such high values for tax purposes.

It's kinda like taking a hardcore "CLOSE THE BORDERS" stance after you just immigrated from Canada.

(Hey, we all saw Red Dawn. Canada is this close to going full-blown Commie and taking over the entire Eastern United States. I say Eastern, because you know there are a bunch of crazy fuckers in Montana, Idaho and Wyoming dug in deep with some Neo-going-to-rescue-Morpheus firepower. There will be a Western Front, and it will not be quiet.

For instance, when the Quebec Separatist Army Special Forces Unit: The Jaunty Berets reaches Baxter Meadows in Bozeman, Montana, they're gonna get a face full of this:



Shit is vicious, yo.

I ain't foolin'.

But I digress.)

After all, real estate taxes are supposed to be based on fair market value of the home.

Back in the day, I handled a few cases for homeowners who contested the tax appraisals of their property.

It was actually kind of fun, because I was the only one doing it at that time. With any degree of success, anyway. Not that it was due to any Johnny Cochran-like "skillz" on my part.

In law, success is almost entirely fact-dependent. If the facts are on your side, you win. If the facts aren't on your side, you settle.

And like our Lord and Savior, Kenny Rogers, once said,

"You gotta know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, when to walk away and know when to run.

You never count your money when you’re sittin’ at the table.
There’ll be time enough for countin’ when the dealin’s done.

Now every gambler knows that the secret to survivin’
Is knowin’ what to throw away and knowing what to keep."


Words to live by.

And I guess that is why Kenny Rogers is our Lord and Savior, and you're sitting there, staring at your computer.

For realz.

I am thinking about starting a Scientology-style religion based on the teachings of Kenny Rogers: The Gambler.

We'll make millions.

On a warm summer’s evenin’ on a train bound for nowhere,
I met up with the gambler; we were both too tired to sleep.
So we took turns a starin’ out the window at the darkness
’til boredom overtook us, and he began to speak.

He said, son, I’ve made a life out of readin’ people’s faces,
And knowin’ what their cards were by the way they held their eyes.
So if you don’t mind my sayin’, I can see you’re out of aces.
For a taste of your whiskey I’ll give you some advice.

So I handed him my bottle and he drank down my last swallow.
Then he bummed a cigarette and asked me for a light.
And the night got deathly quiet, and his face lost all expression.
Said, if you’re gonna play the game, boy, ya gotta learn to play it right.

You got to know when to hold ’em, know when to fold ’em,
Know when to walk away and know when to run.
You never count your money when you’re sittin’ at the table.
There’ll be time enough for countin’ when the dealin’s done.

Now ev’ry gambler knows that the secret to survivin’
Is knowin’ what to throw away and knowing what to keep.
’cause ev’ry hand’s a winner and ev’ry hand’s a loser,
And the best that you can hope for is to die in your sleep.

So when he’d finished speakin’, he turned back towards the window,
Crushed out his cigarette and faded off to sleep.
And somewhere in the darkness the gambler, he broke even.
But in his final words I found an ace that I could keep.

You got to know when to hold ’em, know when to fold ’em,
Know when to walk away and know when to run.
You never count your money when you’re sittin’ at the table.
There’ll be time enough for countin’ when the dealin’s done.

You got to know when to hold ’em, know when to fold ’em,
Know when to walk away and know when to run.
You never count you r money when you’re sittin’ at the table.
There’ll be time enough for countin’ when the dealin’s done.





Tell me, honestly, that you weren't reading those words, nodding to yourself, thinking, "True. True."

Admit it.

And send me 10% of your pre-tax earnings.

Because they citizens of Bozeman just voted to build an brand-new state-of-the-art Middle School in Baxter Meadows.

Which means my property taxes are gonna go through the roof, and the Church of Kenny needs YOUR help to hire a lobbyist.

All these assholes who have INVADED Bozeman within the last 8 months and 26 days have pretty much ruined the place for those of us who have lived here, raised families and paid taxes in this valley for the last 8 months and 27 days!

Please Support the Church of Kenny.

2 Comments:

Blogger Jimmy D said...

Amen Brother...The facts are as follows (I learned these from the dude with the "Johnny Cochran-like "skillz""-1) I didn't do it! 2) It wasn't that bad! 3) shit...I always forget 3 - please refresh my memory so I can continue to espouse from the book of ex-lawyer dude.

9:01 AM  
Anonymous aerotica said...

Well, that's as solid a foundation for a new religion as any other I've heard. Tell you what - I'll sign over the advance on my first book IF you can convincingly incorporate into your theology the lyrics to "Islands In The Stream".

8:10 PM  

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