Hey there, youngen! Remember me? I'm your uncle … your Uncle JP Pennybags. I was wondering if you'd spare some change for family? What? No, I'm not looking for a handout! Why you think you're on top of the world, don't you? So did I! And let me tell you where it got me …
The year was 1929. I thought I had a
green-light to the top of the world. I was all set to have a
monopoly in real-estate. Land speculation was all the rage.
Fortunes were being made and sold over night in business, stocks …
land. And in land, I thought I was going to build a monopoly. Boy,
was I wrong.
I lost my shirt in railroads at a time
when people stopped traveling across the country for fun. The stock
market went further south than a penguin after a home, and in half
the time! People were traveling the rails just to eat. And when
they were eating, they weren't paying for it, sonny-boy. Why, I was
paying for it. Every last little hobo from Tex-Arkana to Ticonderoga
was riding my rails for free, and if they didn't have the money to
pay for fares, you can bet your bottom-dollar that they weren't
paying for their feed.
Speaking of bottom-dollar, are you
using yours? If not, mind if I …
Skinflint! Anyway, here I was, an
honest businessman with a growing family … of rail-lines! I
controlled four entire railroad companies, which made me a regular
Lord of the Locomotives. And if it wasn't for those darned-able
hobos … I would be still. I petitioned no less than the President
of these United States to reign the scamps and rascals in. Debtors
prisons worked for the British Empire for a century, and if something
is good enough for an empire, I thought it was good enough for an
empire of rail lines.
See, though, this is where things
started to get funny. I spent a fortune cajoling Congressmen and the
President to my point of view. The President agreed with me that
something needed to be done. But he did entirely the wrong thing,
see?
He raised taxes on me. ME! He said
that I had the means to pay for programs to put the hobos to work, of
all things! Have you ever heard of anything so preposterous? Why,
that's not what I wanted, and I can't believe that's what they wanted
either! If those darned hobos had wanted to work in the first place
… well, they wouldn't have been freeloading on my rail cars or
getting paid through my tax-money … I ask you, why should I have to
pay any extra money to buy a yacht today than what I would have paid
yesterday? I worked hard to make other people work for my money, and
I wasn't about to watch some daisy-brained “do-gooder” fritter it
all away by turning my fortune into some sort of Community Chest for
the poor!
I did what any law-abiding millionaire
would do in a situation like this. I decided to run for President!
After all, I had experience with elections - I had been elected
Chairman of the Board more times than most people could count. So,
after hiring a crack team to manage my election, I decided to take a
chance and throw my hat into the presidential ring … which I
shouldn't have done because I lost not only my hat but my shirt, too.
Now, this is about the time in my story
where I went straight to jail. I had poured all of my fortune into
the Presidential race of 1936, and after I lost, it wasn't long
before my creditors came to collect. They took the yacht, my houses,
the hotel chains, the property … everything. I even lost my
marbles … they took my collection of antique marbles, for pity's
sake!
When I lost my marbles, that was all I
could stand. Other people have their things taken away by the banks
because they can't pay. Not me. I had those since childhood, and I
did what any sane person would do. I called a press conference for
my company … JP Penny's Incorporated, and at that press conference,
I demanded my marbles back.
Well, that didn't set well with the
Board of Directors. I lost my job, and I lost my company. Is there
anything wrong with a man missing his marbles? I say, if more people
in America today missed their marbles … if they even had marbles to
begin with … this country would be a better place to live. Marbles
are nice, and you can play great games with them when you aren't
trying to beat out everyone and their uncle through monopolies. I
swear by my marbles.
Or at least I would if I still had
them.
I had to declare bankruptcy, and with
that, my wife, Clarabelle - that wretched cow of a woman - tried to
have me committed to the local sanitarium. I'm not crazy. I just
lost my marbles! At my hearing, I proved my sanity to the judge by
remarking on the beauty of his wife and her many fine qualities. She
and I went to the same college you know? I got to know her quite
well over watercolors when I went through an artist stage there, and
... The judge was not amused, found me in contempt of court in lieu
of a finding of insanity, and sentenced me to ten days in the Pokey!
That's right. Old JP did some hard
time.
No room service. No fine champagnes,
no anything but bread and water. For ten whole days! And the
showers were something akin to a common trough. Common troughs are
for common people, and if they were going to send me to jail, it
could have at least had separate rooms and heated towels.
Isn't that just madness? I know! Now,
do you have any change for your dear old Uncle? No? Well, you're an
old cheapskate just like the milkman, aren't you?
If you haven't got anything for me, let
me give my two cents worth to you.
Friend, this is exactly why people like
me shouldn't pay taxes. Not real taxes anyway. We work hard at
making other people work hard for our money. Taxes go to fund
projects for the common good? Then let them be paid by common
people. When rich people have to pay taxes, it cuts into our
yacht-buying, fancy parties, mistresses … did I just say that?
Technically, the girls were on my payroll, so I guess that would make
them employees. It affects our home-buying and vacations to places
like the Baltic or the Mediterranean. And before you know it, when
we can't afford all of these things because of our taxes … we lose
our marbles! And then the world and the economy truly turn
upside-down.
So, are you sure you can't spare any
change?
PLEASE
NOTE: Dear reader, the preceding installment was of a very long and
rambling missive John Pierpoint penned earlier this month while
experiencing severe fondue withdrawal for Lent. The staff of the
Steam-punk Tintype and Telegraph report that he has never been, to
their knowledge, a homeless, bankrupt hobo. He is also not an
ex-convict. We regret not fact-checking this story before it was
typeset, and we assure you to do better next month. Once again, the
views expressed in this column are solely the thoughts of the
column's author. The Steampunk Tintype and Telegraph endorses
neither the views nor the vantage points expressed by Uncle JP.
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