American Consequences - July 2017

in body armor rappelling from helicopters into my backyard target range demanding an explanation for my blowing holes in 1,000 empty beer cans. And they’d probably be accompanied by a Department of Health and Human Services counselor insisting I go into a treatment program for drinking 1,000 cans of beer. That’s the case in favor of cryptocurrency. But I feel guilty (or feel like I should feel guilty) because I don’t support or advocate cryptocurrency. I don’t even find the idea of cryptocurrency very interesting. In fact, I have no use for the stuff. As of this writing, the market value of one bitcoin is about $2,500. But if you wanted to buy the banged-up Volvo station wagon that I got for my teenage kids to bang up some more and you offered me six bitcoins for it, I’d tell you to bite me. This is because I feel ignorant. I am confused by the mathematical intricacies used to form the computer-programmed blockchains that underlie cryptocurrencies. Of course, I’m confused by lots of things. I’m confused by women, which didn’t stop me from marrying a delightful one. I fly on airplanes all the time while having no idea why they take off or how they land. But I am particularly sensitive to confusions

light when I’m on an empty street corner in the middle of the night. I don’t even cheat on my taxes – any more than federally mandated tax loopholes force me to. I wouldn’t use cryptocurrency for any criminal scheme. (Well, except maybe getting some Cuban cigars.) But no matter how legal the purchases I make are, I don’t like those private purchases being on the public record in sales receipts and credit-card records available to who-knows-which nosy snoop government agency. And I don’t like other people’s purchases being on the public record either. If somebody buys an inflatable, anatomically correct Minnie Mouse doll for intimate relations in the privacy of his home, I sure don’t want to know about it. I don’t want government to know about it either, for fear the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) may impose endangered plastic rodent regulations on us all. Or maybe some high-minded EPA functionary will leak the information to animal-rights group PETA, causing the inflatable mouse doll store to be vandalized when my car is parked nearby within paint-tossing range. I’m more worried about government abusing its police powers than I am about individuals abusing their purchasing powers. My taking delivery on 1,000 rounds of 9mm ammunition is information the government does not need to have. No thank you to Homeland Security agents

One small step for man, one giant leap for accountants!

American Consequences | 7

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