Pay no Taxes, But Watch out for Jealous Boy Friends
Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be a plant?
For one thing, you wouldn’t get to go anywhere. You’d be stuck in one place. You couldn’t jump in car and run to the supermarket for a six-pack of beer and 64-ounce bag of potato chips and eat and drink it all in the parking lot and then throw it all up in a flower bed in front of bank.
You couldn’t go to a bar and sit down next to a hot chick with big boobs popping out of her blouse and get invited to her house and have her boy friend come home early from his poker game and threaten to beat the crap out of you and you escape by diving out a window and jumping into your car just in the nick of time. But the car wouldn’t start at first and the ape would be coming at you now with a big rock and then the car starts just at the last second… Yes, you’d miss all that if you were a plant.
If you were a plant, you wouldn’t have to pay any income tax, unless a bunch of those tax and spend Democrats get control of both Congress and the presidency in 2008. Maybe they would finally bring the troops home, but the quid pro quo would probably be some kind of onerous tax on plants, simply because plants don’t vote and pay taxes and can’t afford high profile lobbyists.
If you were a plant, you would probably get fed. But the food might be somebody throwing a shovel of cow manure on you and then drenching you with cold water. Or a shovel of horse manure. Wouldn’t that be worse then cow manure? I read somewhere that sheep manure is stupid, just like sheep.
One thing about being a plant is that you wouldn’t be expected to go out an get a job, because just being a plant would be your job. And there wouldn’t be a lot of office politics, since everybody would look alike, more or less, and there wouldn’t be much of a chance of a promotion and pay raise, since there probably wouldn’t be much upward mobility.
I mean, how often have a you looked a a group of plants and said, “Ah ha! That’s the boss plant over there. I’ll bet he has a nice house up on the hill with a swimming pool and three-car garage and a basement recreation room with a hot tub.” No, if you were a plant there wouldn’t be much to aspire to in terms of career advancement. So, in that respect, being a plant might not be too stressful.
You would probably be expected to make blossoms. But how hard can that be? Surely it wouldn’t be any worse than sitting on the toilet and straining to do your business while constipated because you drank a six pack of beer and ate a giant bag of potato chips.
But what if you had an allergy and were allergic to plant blossoms, but because you were a plant and you didn’t have a car and you couldn’t drive, you wouldn’t be able to go to the drug store and get some anti-histamine?
Would there be some higher authority you could go to to get an exemption from making blossoms because you’re allergic to them and don’t have a way to get to the drug store? Probably not. Plants have never struck me as being particularly assertive and capable of organizing pressure groups to bring social change.
Bottom line? The worst thing about being a plant would be that you’re stuck there in somebody’s dirt with all those other plants and totally at the mercy of your neighbors. Imagine that you were next to Donald Rumsfeld and you had to endure his ceaseless yadda, yadda, yadda.
Or, gasp, Hillary Clinton, right next to you screeching in your ear. Enough to make you shout, “Bring on the lawn mower, Dude!”