My father once left for Far Away Country and returned to Homeland empty-handed and starving. Since he had squandered his part of grandfather’s fortune on prostitutes and riotous living, he feared that the villagers of Homeland would not accept him. He was grateful however that grandfather received him back warmly, saying, “For this my son was dead, and is alive again. He was lost and is found.” But my uncle, whose name is Sam, seethed.
When I turned eighteen, my father sent me on business to Far Away Country where he still had friends who had now become his business partners. I met the daughter of one of the partners; she was fair and so we wed. I worked for my father-in-law, and we wisely saved our money. I became a citizen of Far Away Country. After many years, we had two sons and two daughters, a house with no mortgage, and investment and retirement accounts. One day, I said, “I shall return to Homeland to see my aged father and to greet the villagers.”
While I was still at a distance, Uncle Sam saw me and was not amused. Uncle Sam was the mayor of Homeland. He had squandered its wealth, and it now had an official debt of sixteen trillion shekels, owing many shekels to foreign countries, even to Far Away Country. Uncle Sam had divided the villagers between the producers and the beneficiaries. The producers paid taxes and the beneficiaries voted for Uncle Sam. Soon however the Homeland’s debt exceeded its entire GDP, and so Uncle Sam was desperate to find new taxes to prolong his prodigal budget deficit. For he had also promised the villagers another eighty-four trillion shekels in entitlements that he could not pay, and he feared that the villagers would rise up against him when they stopped receiving their benefits.
So Uncle Sam sent armed thugs with hollow-point bullets to meet me on the path. They informed me, as they took me into custody, “Your Uncle Sam is not amused. All these years that you lived in Far Away Country and never once did you think of the village. You didn’t pay your taxes. You must now pay your taxes for many years going back, and FBAR fines of 383%. We will hold you in prison until you pay every last farthing. What is more, we have heard nothing from your two sons and two daughters. They must also pay their taxes and FBAR fines. If they ever return to Homeland, they can expect this same greeting.”
Then, the armed thugs with hollow-point bullets brought me into the presence of Uncle Sam. Standing as judge over me in the presence of all the villagers, Uncle Sam proclaimed, “I am not amused. This nephew of mine is a tax evader traitor. He left Homeland to avoid paying his fair share. He has failed to file his taxes and his FBARs. He must pay all back taxes and an FBAR fine of 383% of all his wealth. We will hold him in prison until he pays every last farthing. What is more, we have heard nothing from his two sons and two daughters who are the children of this village. They must also pay their taxes and FBAR fines. If they ever return to Homeland, they can expect this same greeting.”
The villagers of Homeland jeered at me and cried out, “Away with the selfish and greedy expat who dared to leave the Homeland!”