Night of the Living Corporate Tax Cuts
Night of the Living Corporate Tax Cuts
by William Rice
The progressive tax activist’s young son wasn’t sleepy.
“Tell me a story, Daddy—a scary story, ‘cause it’s nearly Halloween!”
The activist smiled as he tucked in the bedcovers.
“Scary, huh? Promise you won’t tell Mommy if you get nightmares?”
His son grinned conspiratorially. “Promise!”
The activist perched bedside and consulted the corner of the ceiling for inspiration. “Let me see…did you ever hear the story of the undead corporate tax provisions?”
His son’s eyes opened wide.
The activist’s voice took on a dreamy quality. “It all happened one dark and misty night as I was walking down the long empty corridor outside the deserted House Ways and Means Committee offices. At least, I thought they were deserted.” The boy’s face slid half under the covers.
“Click, click, click my heels echoed on the marble floor. Then just as I passed the open door, I heard something.” The boy drew in his breath.
“It was an eerie voice, calling in the night.”
“What did it say?”
“Ebitda! Ebitda!”
The boy’s brow crinkled and his mouth emerged. “ ‘Ebitda’? What does that mean?”
The father’s voice lost its spooky tone. “Earnings before interest, taxes, depreciation and amortization. It’s a measure of corporate profits.”
“Is it scary?” The boy sounded dubious.
“When used as the basis for the 30% interest deduction ceiling? Terrifying: you lose $50 billion in revenue! And EBITDA was supposed to be dead.”
The boy seemed dissatisfied. “Did you hear anything else?”
“Yes—but it wasn’t as scary as what I saw!”
His son ducked back undercover. “What? What?”
“It was a mummy! Coming towards me, its shrouded arms reaching for me! But it was disintegrating even as it approached, much faster than a mummy should. And it said… ‘Bonus Depreciation!’”
“‘Bonus Depreciation’? Is THAT scary?”
The man looked surprised. “The 100% variety? Expensing? Nothing chills the blood of a tax-fairness advocate faster. $325 billion in lost revenue just to inflate the profits of huge corporations. And again: supposed to be dead but brought back to life.”
The boy sat up in bed. “Did you see anything else?”
“Well, the mummy collapsed in a pile of bandages before he got to me. So I decided to investigate further. I crept into the room and from the back office I heard what sounded like the bubbling of beakers!”
“Like a mad scientist’s lab?”
“Exactly! I tiptoed to the doorway and there I saw it: steaming cauldrons, terrible creatures in cages, and the maddest scientist you ever saw: wild hair, crazy eyes, and a monstrous laugh. But behind him was someone even scarier!”
“Who? Who?”
“An accountant—writing off all the research and experimentation expenses just as they occurred! There was no amortization!”
“No what?”
“No amortization! Not a single blessed bit of amortization. $277 of billion wasted on a corporate tax-handout. And that’s when I knew I’d stumbled into something truly evil.” The man was standing now and covering his eyes at the memory.
“I think I’ll go to sleep now.” The boy switched off the light and turned away from his father.
The man’s wife encountered him in the hallway. “Any luck?”
“He’s asleep.” The mom smiled and began to walk on, but the man tugged her arm. “But what about the American people, honey? Will they sleep through the Republican attempt to bring EBITDA, bonus depreciation and research expensing back from the dead? At a total cost of $650 billion in lost revenue over 10 years? Will they slumber through the outrage? I wonder.”
THE END?