#income
Wake up at 4.30 am every day except Sunday
When I wake up at 5.00 am, coz it's a day off work
Same routine day in, day out, like it or not
Coz there's no alternative, for a working man
Except to churn the wheel of the Daily Grind
Grinding away, Grinding away, Grinding away
Wake up at 4.30 am, and start on the pranayam
Then some light exercises, before it's time
For the morning prayers, which are a must
Then a bath followed by breakfast
Out of the house by 7.00 am is my target
To catch the public mini bus to my workplace
Arrive by 7.30 am, ready to start the work
Grinding away till 5.00 pm when it's time to leave
But I am grateful, grateful to the Almighty
I have work and earn a reasonable income
Meet the needs of my family, even if just the basics
Always be grateful that my wife tells me, and it's true
But it's not my ideal life, not at all
Some lucky people do have it all
A seven or eight-figure income, a happy family
And they work as and when they want
No Daily Grind For Them
For the rest of us, the Daily Grind
Grinding away, grinding away on the wheel of life
Till the Almighty says, Enough grinding done
Now join me in a new world where there is no Grind
Sep 8, 2025
Sep 8, 2025 at 7:01 AM UTC
(It’s that vernal, infernal, tax season. How about a tax avoidance vignette? It’s poetic—in it’s own way)
Some students at a table near us in the dining hall were discussing America’s financial inequities. One guy was saying that we ought to “tax the crap” out of billionaires and their billions—and there was agreement all around—the consensus was downright mob-like.
I had to chuckle though, because these guys have no idea how wealth is managed in the world today. I bet, for instance, they think Musk has 200 billion dollars in his basement somewhere, but no, Musk’s 200 billion is his ‘net worth,’ the theoretical value of his stock portfolio (or his unrealized assets).
Just between us chickens, I’m related to a few ‘filthy rich’ people, (no, NOT my parents) and I’ve met many others and I can assure you, dear reader, that the ‘filthy rich’ have nothing you can tax. Now, I’m not a finance major. Everything I know, I learned from my Grandmère and my parents who thought a girl ought to know about money. So anyway, just for fun, here’s a quick (I’m condensing and simplifying), lesson on how taxation and wealth work in 2025.
The wealth of the rich lies in their assets—the value of companies they own or stocks they’ve invested in. Those “paper assets” can only be taxed when they’re sold—or, in tax terms, when their intrinsic value is “realized.”
Now instead of selling off (taxable) assets to live, the superrich use those assets as collateral for “securities backed loans” which are nontaxable. Elon Musk, for instance, takes no salary. He uses his ($94 billion) Tesla stock as collateral for loans he uses to fund his lavish lifestyle and provide ready cash as needed.
Mark Zuckerberg, Larry Ellison, Warren Buffett and Jeff Bezos—to name a few billionaires we all know of, take little or no salary—their compensation comes in the form of untaxable stock options they can leverage.
If you think this can’t go on forever, you’re wrong. Even when these billionaires die, the value of assets gained during their lifetimes are immune to taxation. At that point, some assets can be sold by heirs to pay off the outstanding loans, again, without worrying about taxes.
TA DAAAA. Now you know how the rich do it. How they avoid taxes in both life and death, and manage to leave massive fortunes to their heirs.
.
.
Songs for this:
Done Changed My Way of Living by Taj Mahal
Run On by Elvis Presley
Mar 20, 2025
Mar 20, 2025 at 11:30 PM UTC
Have you been searching for that perfect gift?
Want to say something special, give someone a lift?
Are you popping the question? Is it someone's birthday
But you're just not quite sure of the right words to say?
Is the one that you love feeling lonely or sick?
If a card or a letter just won't do the trick...
Pick up the phone call Poetically Correct
With our help, you'll achieve the desired effect
Just give us some details, and in a short time
You can send someone special, a gift that's sublime
Anniversaries ~ Apologies ~ Any Occasion ~ Baby Dedications ~ Bachelor/Bachelorette Party ~ Birth Announcements ~ Condolences ~ Congratulations ~ Eulogies ~ Father's Day ~ Get Well ~ Graduation ~ Holidays ~ Love ~ Proposals ~Reunions ~ Roasts ~ Secret Admirer ~ Special Friend ~ Surprise ~ Tell 'Em Off ~ Told U So ~ Valentines ~ You Name It
Jun 16, 2019
Jun 16, 2019 at 11:48 AM UTC
Who is a real man?
A man with a hard rock body,
Can hold his liquor without puking,
Has many ****** encounters,
Lots of money,
Wins many fights,
Muscular with ten packs.
No!
A real man seeks knowledge for himself and his family's betterness,
He is focused,
Stays away from glitz and glamour.
He is gentle but firm,
Does not holler to get his point,
Is not a punk.
He is a family man,
Makes time for his family,
Brings up his children to be upright human beings.
Keeps his promises,
He is trustworthy,
Does not break deals,
Pays his debts,
Is upfront and honest.
Respects all women,
Doesn't leer with lust at women,
Stays faithful to his wife,
Treats women with respect.
Keeps his house in order,
He does chores around the house,
Helps with dishes,laundry and ironing,
Cooks sometimes.
Pays his bills on time
Handles his own money,
Doesn't go looking for hangouts,
Or depend on his wife or parents.
Works his tail to earn a decent income,
Budgets his money and saves,
Gives to charity and good causes.
Does not whine or complain,
Solves his own problems,
In my opinion that's a real man.
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 3:17 PM UTC
Skull and Bones free markets calling,
we're sailing off with your income's falling...
Skull and Bone's gain, -your hurt;
all your fetid industries we do subvert...
Skull and Bones my outlaw swear!
on the altar I cremate the care!
Nov 13, 2016
Nov 13, 2016 at 11:40 AM UTC
He was too lazy
to put pennies in his loafers
and too cheap
to offer a penny for your thoughts
nickel & diming
his way through life
until the pennies had no value
and the thoughts weren't cost effective
and the income was disposable
and the outcome was predictable.
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 6:44 PM UTC
Blank faces, hopeless dreams
Scattered down the boulevard
Thank the barren local streets
That shatter thoughts of working hard
Lonely moms, dying friends,
Barefoot children in the dark
Play behind a chain-link fence
Instead of in the park
Fast food & news stations
Feed on troubled minds
Claiming that the stipulations
Are changing with the times
These days you can’t wake up
Without that cup of Joe
Problems all those drugs shake up
Most people never know
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 12:54 AM UTC
Snow White isn't easy
Maybe she just needs seven extra sources
of income
Maybe she gets depressed
easily
Maybe she is very good friends
with every single one
Why does everyone have to assume she's sleeping with all of them?
Snow White is better than that.
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 12:50 PM UTC
Swipe in to enter
The machine said
And we did
we intend to do the same
on a daily basis,
Immerse ourselves into a fake promise called
Income, stability and a preconceived notion
called “life, the way it is”
For once the machine, couldn’t recognise
The faded lines on the thumb,
Walk away,
we walk away till we reach
the queen’s necklace
where it all began,
Dreams, hope and salvation.
The perfect place to revisit
Decisions, choices and the way forward
But we fail to look into any as we take a pause
From all that is normal.
To gaze at the surreal horizon
Ebbed in the promenade that is home to all of us.
“Swipe out to exit” Nobody says
As we dwell in the possibility of a better tomorrow
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 3:39 AM UTC
Jingle, jingle, Mr. Kringle
Please drop by my house.
Don’t miss it like you did last year
Don’t be that seasonal louse
That brought cheesy kinds of toys
From the local dollar store
We shopped there all the time
So we had seen them before.
I don’t want to sound ungrateful
But Action Tommy is not the same
As GI Joe. Between the two there’s
More difference than the name.
And Lego blocks fit together
To build some amazing things
Those copycat toys from Taiwan
Do not build much of anything.
Jingle, Jingle, Mr. Kringle
If you are real, please heed.
None of those toys and junk
Is really what we need.
It would be better if you could
Bring a job for my poor Dad.
Make it better than minimum, like
The one he most recently had.
And maybe a raise for Mom
Who works a full time job too.
Would a dollar an hour be such
An earth-shaking thing to see to?
So, just in general, Kringle dude,
If it wouldn’t make you awful mad
Could you twitch your nose and
Make this Christmas not be sad?
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 10:39 PM UTC
"My home life isn't the best," I said.
"It doesn't have to be," she said.
BADLANDS BLEAT
Okay, I said it again. Getting out of bed was the worst part of the day. To begin, the marijuana haze from the night before never went away and left me sore. Sure it was likely enough to ease some of the pain, but in the morning my body stood and got to working slowly like it wasn't eager at all. Only the thought of fast food coffee got me pumped up, not even half-mast at that. If the **** I called erotica to save face couldn't bribe a competent rise out of me, the daily grind certainly couldn't get it done. Impetus again, every time in two week increments. Sure, I had money in the pockets of my sweat pants for the coffee and treats that I charged on a credit card years ago when I had the means -- but I was living with family. A prison sentence delivered by a cruel twist of fate that I caused myself in the first place. Nothing to blame but the errors in my own transactions. Much better than before, still not in charge of anything more than my mistakes. I didn't talk much. Who needed to know? I fulfilled the bare basic requirements of my peers so I could stay stealth. I had pills to eat. I ate them at home. I had meals to eat, and I ate them alone. Company was always safer to keep in a cigarette. Lucky me, when I ran into other smokers you would think they spoke for a need to keep their lips wet. There was a freedom in the chance to sit around a circle taking in information without the pressure to reciprocate. Four years running, I'd made choices in the Fall that brought all my work down. The scribbles and notes attached to cork board, reliably lost in a pile of clothes, paper and thumb tacks. Living with no other luggage made the journey more bearable during the dark days. It helped practice ignorance of others when I barely kept myself well.
Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 5:26 AM UTC
I used to live in a country
That was based on liberty
And where just anybody
Could achieve prosperity
That with assured equality
And working diligently
One could expect definitely
To succeed economically
If you saved all the money
Left over from your salary
To save to bring your family
A step closer to solvency.
Not an impossible proposition,
It was based on the condition
Of a grand national institution
Which promised that stabilization
By taxing us and corporations
With an equitable correlation
Between folks of humble station
And the larger organizations
Working in happy syncopation.
A welcome feeling of elation
Would descend upon our nation
And keep us from stagnation
Or going into nationwide deflation,
Or just as scary, a huge inflation.
Now I look upon our history
And see decades of misery
Laid upon us by calumny
By those meant to fortify
And build up our security.
The constant forces of calamity
If we accept less than probity
From those who have no honesty
Choosing leaders based on beauty
A national cult of personality
Then permit political chicanery
By people with no dignity
Only a greedy criminality
That pretends to propriety
And a devout base of spirituality
When what we have is actually
A kangaroo court of dishonesty
Without a care for the citizenry.
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 9:18 AM UTC
what city this is, it's clear to me,
where silver steel is all i see,
winding, turning, to the left and right,
where no man is content to simply be.
it glitters and gleams even in the darkest night,
flickers with flashes of flint-edged light,
o, the people, with their long-dead eyes,
they know not the secrets this city hides.
o, the people, and their anguished cries,
i hear them all, the lies, the sighs,
alas! these very things i dread,
the city moves on, the clock ticks by.
a penny for drink, sir! a penny for bread,
a pound so i might find a city-bed,
no place to lay my city-head,
no place to lay my city-head.
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 8:59 PM UTC