Well, more precisely, to this blog. It’s been three years and began with this post on November 2, 2003. Other than eventually deciding to allow comments, which I’m very glad I did, it has pretty much gone as expected. In fact, as to my continued and often increasing enthusiasm for it, it had exceeded my best imaginations. It’s truly a lifetime’s project for me. At least, that’s how I view it now.
As of today: 873 posts and 2,931 comments. We’ve had 235,000 unique visits, and over 300,000 page views in that time. Downloading all the posts and opening in Word, it comes out to 2,400 pages. Back in around 1996 I totaled up everything I’d posted to Usenet and sent out in email on these more-or-less "socio-political" issues, and it came to over 3,500 pages, done in about two years time. So, I’ve backed off my normal pace a bit. But I’ve got to admit: sometimes I really love doing this.
There’s likely a post or two in here that I could really do without, and I’m always wondering in the back of my head when (not if) something is going to come back to bite me real hard. Now I’ll digress into a story I’ve been wanting to tell, and this seems like a good time. But I’m going to be brief with it because I still don’t know how I ultimately want to play it in Technicolor, if at all.
I’ve already had the "pleasure" of the IRS looking up a bit of what’s included in that 3,500 pages referenced — I know because they told me so — as part of a full-blown audit covering three years of both personal and corporate returns (six years; full proctological audit). Between corporate and personal "adjustments," not to mention dozens of hours of employee time, CPA time, and tax attorney time, it cost upwards of $50,000. Just a cut; not enough to knock me out of the game. They were determined, you see. I came on their radar as a "tax-protester," and as soon as they did their little "asset searches" and figured they could score, they embarked. Sixteen months, it took. I wisely stayed completely out of the fray, other than a single 30-minute interview to put a face to their demon. For the first twelve months, they didn’t find a thing. You see: my views on taxation, without a penny’s worth of equivocation, are very well known around here. It’s theft. I understand that I’m dealing with thieves — thieves with guns, clubs, handcuffs, "investigators," prosecutors, "judges," their very own court system, and jails. As such, I harbor no illusions about who and what I’m really dealing with, and so I submit to the men with their guns and keep a clean set of books as meticulously in accordance with their "formulas" as I possibly can. But come to their attention, have something to "go after," and they will go until they find something, and of course they did, and we paid.
Ah, the price of "freedom."