Superb. Barney is a joke here, just happens to be an unbeatable joke.
Just watch the gay rights champion do NOTHING about DOMA. Happens every day for the last 20+ years. Oh wait, he did do something. He refused to co-sponsor its repeal. What a champion On Dec 29, 9:03 am, MJ <[email protected]> wrote: > The Death Tax and Barney Frankby Stephen CoxYesterday I watched one of my > favorite movies,The Bishop’s Wife(1947). It’s the story of . . . well, never > mind; I don’t want to reveal the plot. Anyway, at the end of the movie, the > bishop (David Niven) gives a brief Christmas sermon, in which he says that > the best presents are "loving kindness, warm hearts, and the stretched out > hand of tolerance – all the shining gifts that make peace on earth." > It’s a noble sentiment, nobly expressed. But this year, when I heard it, some > curious, speculative questions occurred to me. It’s good to be a giver of > gifts – but what about the receivers of gifts? Is it morally right for the > receivers to get and keep what others bestow on them? If not, should they be > forced to surrender their gifts to others? > If you have any common sense, I’m sure you’re thinking, "This is crazy. Gifts > are gifts. By definition, they are freely given, to people whom the givers > want to have them. Why worry about that?" > The reason I started to worry was something that Barney Frank said. > In a Dec. 17 interview with CNBC, Frank, who is the outgoing chairman of the > House Financial Services Committee, went into a tirade about the moral > justification of the death tax – the tax that people pay for the wealth they > receive in the estates of friends and family members. Looking and speaking > like Elmer Fudd in a fit of hysterical anger, Frank shrieked the following: > "Heirs, who now inherit, they haven’t done this on their own, they haven’t > worked hard; that’s a pure gift to someone who is lucky enough to be related > to someone or very friendly with someone, who’s [inaudible, perhapslending] > them the money." > Frank has enjoyed great political power. He is famous for his intelligence. > He is, perhaps, a person who deserves to be taken seriously. So I did take > him seriously. I didn’t just think, "Here’s a politician who’s trying to > extract more money, even if he has to get it by robbing the dead." I started > thinking about this idea ofworking hardfor things andearningthem, and thereby > coming todeservethem. > Granted, Frank was wrong on some of the facts. He denied that any heirs have > "worked hard" for what they get. Tell that to the heirs of some crotchety old > person who tortured them for decades, demanding their service, repressing > their criticism, and ignoring their wishes, but who finally forked over some > wretchedly small bequest to them. These peopleworked.Or, to go to the > opposite end of the spectrum, tell that to the people who devoted themselves > to the care of a beloved friend or relative, expecting no reward, and were > then surprised by a kindly remembrance in their loved one’s will. There are > indeed heirs whoworkanddeserve. > So Frank was mistaken about a lot of things that really happen, that often > happen, that usually happen in human life. You would think that an > intelligent person would be well acquainted with these things. But it’s easy > to confuse being verbal with being intelligent. Rep. Frank is certainly > verbal; intelligence is another matter. > At any rate, you would expect a conscientious person, of whatever degree of > intelligence, to reflect on the strange contradiction involved in denying > people the right to unearned wealth, while supporting programs that give > people unearned wealth. Congressman Frank is a great proponent of welfare. > His insistence that people should be enabled to buy a house even if they > don’t earn enough to afford it was partly responsible for the disastrous bust > in the housing market. Of course, he’s not the nation’s only would-be > redistributor of wealth. Modern liberalism (and a great deal of modern > conservatism) would not exist if it weren’t for the idea that people who > haven’t actually earned something should get it from the government. > But putting Frank’s intellectual contradictions aside, what about the general > principle, the principle that he suggested in his interview – the idea that > if you haven’tworked hardfor something, you ought to be prepared to give it > up? > I’ll ignore one obvious issue, an issue that libertarians often bring up (and > it’s a good thing they do): the question of whythe governmentshould be the > entity that takes people’s "unearned" wealth away. Surely the government > didn’twork hardfor anything I inherit from a friend or relative, or even from > someone I never heard of. If working and earning are the justifications for > the possession of wealth, what justification doesthe governmenthave? > As I say, however, let’s put this particular issue aside, and return to the > basic problem: What is the moral status of my unearned wealth? Should I feel > guilty about possessing it? > I’ll be honest with you: I have a lot of this stuff. When it comes to > unearned wealth, I am rich beyond the dreams of avarice. I didn’tworkto gain > the jewel of life, love and friendship. Friendship is a gift. True, it’s not > a gift that is randomly bestowed. Few gifts are. My friends presumably have > some reason, however eccentric, for giving it to me. Nevertheless, it is a > gift. > I did work to get my job, and succeed in it. But myworkhas never been equal > to the enormous pleasure my job provides. And I certainly neverworkedto > create such things as electric lights, motion pictures, books, computers, the > paintings of Andrea del Sarto, the glory of the summer constellations, or a > human history rich with interesting events and inspiring personalities. I > didn’twork hardto be born in America. I didn’tearnthe constitution of the > United States. > Virtually all of my life has been a gift, a shining gift. If I have no right > to such gifts as I’ve received, I have no right to life. > Maybe Barney Frank would acknowledge the same thing about himself, if he were > thinking calmly. I well remember my only sighting of Mr. Frank. It was years > ago, at Washington National Airport. At that time, he wasn’t as fat and > self-satisfied as he is today, but he was self-satisfied enough, and fat > enough, and it was amusing to see him strutting across the concourse, holding > a triple-scoop ice cream cone in his outstretched hand, watching it as > admiringly as if it had been the Hope Diamond. In every aspect of his being > he projected the sense that hedeservedthat tower of ice cream. And he did, in > the sense that he’d paid for it. > But in a larger sense, according to his own theory, he didn’t. He > hadn’tworkedto invent ice cream, or airports, or congressmen, or > congressional salaries. He hadn’tearnedhis birth in a free and prosperous > America, a land flowing with ice and cream. Yet none of these considerations > prevented him from enjoying his dessert. There was no appearance of guilt, no > attempt to share the feast with others. I’m confident that if an agent of the > government had turned up to take some part of Mr. Frank’s ice cream cone, he > would have fought like a tiger to keep and devour it himself. > But wait, you may say – in his interview on CNBC Frank intended to speak only > of money, not of the less abstract gifts, such as ice cream cones, that we > gladly receive from friends or relatives or providence (orluck,as he would > have it). > Well, here again there are some facts that ought to be respected. The estate > taxes that Mr. Frank supports require more than just surrendering some money > that was bequeathed to you. People don’t ordinarily inherit huge chunks of > cash; they inherit other forms of property. To pay the taxes on this wealth, > they have to sell the property, often at the sacrifice of much of its value. > So Frank wasn’t talking just about money; he was talking about farms and > businesses and your grandmother’s china and everything else that may have to > be liquidated to produce the cash he thinks the governmentdeserves. > But, for the sake of argument, suppose that money is the only thing at issue. > Consider the following scenes from human life. Notice how strange they become > when you try to apply Frank’s ideas about unearned wealth. > 1. I want to treat my friend to a trip to Europe – not because heworked > hardfor it, but simply because I want him to enjoy the sights with me. If I > give him $5,000 to cover his expenses, does he have a moral obligation to > surrender, say, $1750 of it to the government? (We’re looking at a 35% estate > tax for 2011, for heirs who happen to receive more than such and such an > amount. Incidentally, what other moral imperative is measured in arbitrary > terms, by a majority vote of Congress – a 35% tax in 2011, a 55% tax in 2001, > and who knows what kind of tax in 2020? ) But if I charge the trip to my > credit card, will Barney Frank demand that my friend surrender $1750 of the > money value of my gift, even if it means selling off some of his property? Or > will he be allowed to claim that he is actuallyearningthe trip, because he’ll > have to put up with me as a fellow traveler? Will he need to file an income > tax schedule in which he itemizes my faults? He’ll need more than one > accountant to complete that form. > 2. Your daughter is getting married. You want to give her something that she > can use in her own way. So you write her a check for $10,000. She > didn’tearnthat money. Does that mean she has a moral imperative to surrender > $3500 of it to the government? If so, you’ll need to write her a check for > $13,500, to make up the difference. Does she then have a moral duty to > surrender the same proportion of the $13,500 as she did of the $10,000? If > so, you’ll need to write her another check, this time for $14,725 – and so on > and so on, in a weird riff on Zeno’s paradox. Is this the way morality works? > 3. You are about to die. You are lying on your deathbed. You hurriedly make > out your will. Suddenly inspired by family values, you bequeath $50,000 to > your nephew Albert, whom you have never seen and know nothing about. Is > Albert morally obligated to give $17,500 to the government, because he > neverearnedthe $50,000? Congressman Frank would certainly answer in the > affirmative. But suppose that you have, like a sensible person, omitted the > unknown Albert from your will – yet five minutes before your death, he bursts > through the door, exclaiming, "Uncle! I’m here at last!" Impressed by this > display of love, you write him a check for $50,000. Then you die. According > to Frank’s system of morality, was it only Albert’s presence in your will > that would oblige him to pay anything, or does he have a moral obligation to > surrender the $17,500 that he received a moment before your death, because > theluckyboy still did nothing toearnit? Or was his journey to your deathbed – > which admittedly may have been much more arduous than any duties performed by > a US congressman – enough likeworkto leave him free and clear? > These questions, though easy enough to come up with, have evidently not > occurred to the sagacious Mr. Frank. Maybe they will, now that his party is > out of power and he will no longer be the head of an important congressional > committee. He’ll have time to think. And maybe – who knows? – he will find > some answers. It would be terrible to believe that he had already surrendered > to government service the best part of hisunearnedgift of > intelligence.http://www.lewrockwell.com/orig5/cox-s4.1.1.html -- Thanks for being part of "PoliticalForum" at Google Groups. For options & help see http://groups.google.com/group/PoliticalForum * Visit our other community at http://www.PoliticalForum.com/ * It's active and moderated. Register and vote in our polls. * Read the latest breaking news, and more.
