We’ve long said that we have the smartest damned blog readers on the planet. They are manufacturers, of course, smart innovators always on the cutting edge. They run businesses and in so doing create enormous wealth for this country in the form of jobs and livelihoods to millions of employees. And taxes. Don’t forget the taxes. Lotsa taxes.
As if we needed to be reminded of how great our readers are, we caught this comment posted by a “C Bamford” (he is a manufacturer) to our “Nowhere to Hide” entry below about the Death Tax. It never ceases to amaze us how articulate our manufacturers are. This is a well-written and passionate comment that we thought you shouldn’t miss:
I was born in the South Bronx. My dad died when I was 11, leaving my mother and I literally penniless. Predictably, I became a juvenile delinquent and a school dropout — until I discovered an undreamt talent for engineering.
I worked at the apprentice level in that field for a few years, then paid my own way through college (yes, with the help of some student loans). I graduated cum laude — and went to work. I built a fortune in my early 30s, lost it due to bad business judgments, and earned it back again tenfold after 25 years of working even harder.
Although I never had the “old boys club” contacts that rich kids did, I never felt I had been dealt an unfair hand — I often competed with huge industrial players and often won contracts bidding against them — their “old boy” connections and family connections sometimes beat me, but not often.
Today I’d like to put my fortune in trust for my son, who has had serious health problems all his life — bad enough to interfere with his ability to hold down a job. $3.5 million in trust is not remotely enough to insure adequate coverage for him. So instead I will buy a ton of term life insurance, and spend another $50K on estate planners and lawyers, to insure the money gets to my boy, and stays out of the pork-barrel in Washington.
Read my lips: no matter what, the estate tax is not going to enrich the US treasury with my money — it will merely insure it goes to Prudential before it goes to my son.
But let’s leave my son out of this argument for the moment. Suppose I decided to bury my money in my casket with me. Maybe you CAN take it with you, after all. I certainly have earned the right to find out, and neither the government nor all the world’s moonbats have earned the right to redistribute my wealth simply because it exceeds their idea of a reasonable bank balance.
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