“Nothing in life is certain except death and taxes,” the old saying goes. But we are also born, those of us fortunate enough not to fall prey to the abortion industry. Today marks my thirty-fifth birthday. I celebrated by paying $162.57 in vehicle property taxes to Darlington County, South Carolina.
Yesterday, I purchased a new vehicle, my first new car in thirteen-and-a-half years, and only the third I’ve ever owned. It’s a 2017 Nissan Versa Note SV. The other two were a 1988 Buick Park Avenue Electra, which I bought from my older brother for $800, after my grandparents gave it to him one year, and a 2006 Dodge Caravan, which those same grandparents gave to me as a college graduation gift (after the Buick was totaled when a lady ran a yield sign and smashed into me).
The Buick is long gone, but I kept the Dodge. I figure it’s worth more to me as stuff-hauler than I would have gotten in trade-in value. Of course, that means maintaining insurance on both vehicles, and paying taxes on each.
Well, I awoke today to the news that our military assassinated Iranian General Qassem Soleiman last night. When I first read that Soleiman was “assassinated,” I was picturing a fate similar to the death of the “austere religious scholar,” the ISIS guy, al-Baghdadi: covert operatives swooping in under cover of darkness, swiftly and surely relieving the general of his life.
The Portly Politico 