New York: Takers’ Paradise
Here’s a quick roundup of stories detailing the death spiral of once-mighty New York.
New York’s top marginal income tax rate (state and federal combined) will be 56.92 percent, assuming ObamaCare passes, and further assuming no increase in New York’s already confiscatory tax rates. As an added bonus, if you live in one of the five boroughs, your top marginal rate will be 58.68 percent.
New York’s Senate is back in business, unfortunately. And back to business as usual. Senators are skipping out on their work, permitting necessary bills to languish, entrenching themselves further and holding taxpayers hostage. Thanks, guys!
The tax story and the Senate story are united by a common theme: productive New Yorkers are being taxed out of the state in order to give (mostly) freeloaders gold-plated benefits.
‘Puter’s advice? Don’t move to New York, and if you’re already here, relocate if you can. Unless, of course, you plan on leeching off the productive.
Always right, unless he isn’t, the infallible Ghettoputer F. X. Gormogons claims to be an in-law of the Volgi, although no one really believes this.
’Puter carefully follows economic and financial trends, legal affairs, and serves as the Gormogons’ financial and legal advisor. He successfully defended us against a lawsuit from a liquor distributor worth hundreds of thousands of dollars in unpaid deliveries of bootleg shandies.
The Geep has an IQ so high it is untestable and attempts to measure it have resulted in dangerously unstable results as well as injuries to researchers. Coincidentally, he publishes intelligence tests as a side gig.
His sarcasm is so highly developed it borders on the psychic, and he is often able to insult a person even before meeting them. ’Puter enjoys hunting small game with 000 slugs and punt guns, correcting homilies in real time at Mass, and undermining unions. ’Puter likes to wear a hockey mask and carry an axe into public campgrounds, where he bursts into people’s tents and screams. As you might expect, he has been shot several times but remains completely undeterred.
He assures us that his obsessive fawning over news stories involving women teachers sleeping with young students is not Freudian in any way, although he admits something similar once happened to him. Uniquely, ’Puter is unable to speak, read, or write Russian, but he is able to sing it fluently.
Geep joined the order in the mid-1980s. He arrived at the Castle door with dozens of steamer trunks and an inarticulate hissing creature of astonishingly low intelligence he calls “Sleestak.” Ghettoputer appears to make his wishes known to Sleestak, although no one is sure whether this is the result of complex sign language, expert body posture reading, or simply beating Sleestak with a rubber mallet.
‘Puter suggests the Czar suck it.