A Study in American Paradoxes A little background is necessary here. I misplaced my Social Security card sometime in the late 1980s. The last time I remember handing the card to anyone was at a U.S. Army processing center in Texas. Fortunately, I havent actually needed to produce it since then. Ive never bothered replacing it. Perhaps that’s because I am opposed to the entire concept of Social Security. Or, perhaps it’s because I have tried on at least a few occasions to opt out of Social Security altogether. I guess I like the idea of not having a physical reminder of the costly Ponzi scheme which the federal government has forced me to participate for my entire working life. Not possessing a peremptory piece of paper proving my proletariat pool position pleased me plenty. But, having absolutely no form of government identification in my possession occasionally makes everyday life unpleasant and complex. Considering that a SS card is the most innocuous to obtain, or so I thought, I decided to get a replacement card. This afternoon, I had a small break in my schedule and I happened to be passing a Social Security Administration building. I pulled into the Social Security Administration parking lot and entered the building. Thus, I encountered the first paradox of the day. Being on the edge of 45 years old, Im no youngster. But, Im still a spry couple of decades away from retirement age. While I assumed that I would not be the youngest kid in the joint, I expected most of the patrons to have grayer hair and weaker bladders than me. To my surprise, most of the standing-room-only crowd of roughly 80 people looked more like they should be in line at the opening of the hottest new nightclub. The majority were 20-ish, hip and fashionable. Several were sporting trendy clothes and expensive jewelry. Judging from the parking lot, every single person there was driving a newer car than me. It was 2pm on a Thursday, and I was pretty sure that I was the only person in the building who had engaged any productive Austrian economic activity today. And, I was without question the only person who actually paid into Social Security today. Notwithstanding the SSA employees, but thats kind of a wash anyway...kind of like loaning money to your spouse. After attempting to circumvent hours-long take a number and now serving dance, I spotted a very bored looking security guard in the back of the room. As I approached him, he glared at me as if he was annoyed his peace was about to be disturbed by one of the great, unwashed masses. With as friendly a demeanor I could muster under the circumstances, I said to him, I just need a replacement card.” He instructed me to take a number. I persevered. “Isnt there some form I could take with me and mail in? He grudgingly directed me to a kiosk on the other side of the room, where I found the proper form. Thinking my mission was at least partially accomplished, I headed back out the front door. As I sat in my aging sedan amongst a sea of gleaming late-model SUVs and imports with outrageous rims, I briefly wondered how many of these vehicles I was at least partially paying for. I shook off the unpleasant thought and began reading the instructions on how to obtain my replacement Social Security card. Then came the second paradox of the afternoon. It was right there on the form, in Times New Roman font. In order to obtain a replacement Social Security card, one must present one of the following forms of identification: - A state-issued drivers license - A state-issued identification card - A U.S. passport Of which, I have none. As many of you know, the reason that I do not have a Florida Drivers License or a U.S. Passport is the unconstitutional Real ID Act of 2005. And, under the Real ID Act, in order to be issued a Drivers License or a U.S. Passport, one must present....drum roll, please....A Social Security card. So, without a DL, I cant get a SS card. Without a SS card, I cant get a drivers license. For many people, this paradox would present an incredible hardship. For me, its just fodder for a humorous article. To me, government is like a Bengal tiger living in my village. I avoid it whenever possible. I feed it when absolutely necessary to prevent it from devouring me. Under no circumstance do I expect it to ever take care of me. I am hoping that at some point, the tiger will think that I have ceased to exist. Or, better yet, it will surmise that I never actually existed in the first place. A man can dream, cant he? Either way, I doubt that will absolve me of paying FICA.
Posted on: Thu, 22 Jan 2015 22:14:30 +0000