Carmen Sandiego’s Secret Hideout Was In Clarksburg

I just love our computer age and how people trust the Internet to provide infallible information.  I especially love how drivers trust the directions that float down from the map gods of cyberspace. 

Having been a reconnaissance platoon leader in the U. S. Army, I trust old-fashioned, paper maps.  If I want to travel from point A to point B, I look for a paper map to guide me.  I do not trust Internet maps.

Take my residence for example.  You cannot locate it by using MapQuest, Google or Yahoo.  Ever since MapQuest went online, the service has located my domicile about two miles south and west from its actual site to a spot on Old Davisson Run Road, a secondary road. 

I live on Davisson Run Road, the fast lane, state Route 98, also known as Clarksburg's South Bypass. So MapQuest performed bypass surgery and grafted me onto another neighborhood where, presumably, people live in the slow lane. Yahoo must rely on MapQuest, or the same source data, because it displays the same (wrong) map location.

Google, on the other hand, is the mother lode of all information. Google is infallible. Google has mapped the Earth and scanned every book published since Gutenberg's Bible. Google does not use the map god's directions.  Google is The God.

And so it is that Google, The God, points to my domicile as being located at 300 Davisson Run Road. Google even provides a street-level view of the entrance driveway.

Google goes the extra mile in its map search.  Google tells us that 500 Davisson Run Road is also located at the same spot as 300 Davisson Run Road. When I say that Google goes the extra mile, I mean this: 400, 500, 600, 700, 800, 900, and even 1000 Davisson Run Road all show up at 300 Davisson Run Road.

But wait!  Reboot your computer, go back to Google, and search these addresses again.  On this go around, Google might point you to the same spot on Old Davisson Run that MapQuest and Yahoo point to.

You cannot get here from anywhere if you rely on the cyberspace map gods.

The best computer map story I have heard came from a nurse.  Her agency supplied her with a laptop and map software. One day, she had to drive from Shinnston to Smithburg.  Her laptop selected the shortest route which took her across Five Points hill, a place so-named because five county roads meet at the top of the hill.

Five Points is a place accessible usually by Jeep or Land Rover.  Fortunately for our nurse, her trusty sedan made it through, but at the cost of an extra hour driving time to save a few miles.

As smart as computers purport to be, they are illogical linear thinkers when it comes to routing a trip.  Why?  Because computer programmers are illogical linear thinkers. 

A friend of mine who trusts his OnStar recently took a scenic, backroads trip from Ithaca, N.Y., to Rochester.  I would have looked at a road map and opted to drive to Elmira and then follow Interstate 86 and Interstate 390 to Rochester. 

Just for kicks, I asked Google for directions from Elmira to Rochester.  Google, The God, ignored the Interstate 86 routing because it was several miles longer than backcountry New York Route 14 to Watkins Glen and along Seneca Lake.

When I travel, I know that Interstates are the fastest way regardless of mileage.  If I have time to sightsee, then I will do a map recon. In this regard, I am like John Travolta as "Michael" when he detoured to see the world's biggest ball of twine. 

Now that's a real map quest!

If you are looking for Carmen Sandiego, she has gone.  I will miss her as she has been a good tenant.  But she had insisted on a lease clause that allowed her to terminate should I ever divulge the secret nature of 640 Davisson Run Road, and by extension, Carmen's sublet.

"Where in the World Is Carmen Sandiego?" went off the air a year or so before 640 Davisson Run Road was built, and the U.S. Postal Service provided it with a street address instead of a rural route and box number.  That's when Carmen showed up and why you haven't found her since.

Carmen, best wishes in finding your new safe house.  Let me know when you are settled in, and I will forward your security deposit.

West Virginia got two wake up calls this week

It is unfortunate that West Virginia could not interest Shell Oil in building its proposed ethane cracker plant here.  But Shell's decision to locate in Monaca, Pa., did not surprise me in the least.  Bigger states can offer more.

Monaca is 25 miles from Pittsburgh.  The Pittsburgh metro area's population is one-third larger than West Virginia's entire population. 

West Virginia proposed a site in Hancock County (population estimated at 30,500 and on a downward trend from 2000).  One quick look at the map tells you that 90 percent (or more) of the plant's work force would have to commute from Ohio and Pennsylvania. Unless, of course, I have overlooked an indigenous tribe of intelligent forest creatures who could be trained to crack ethane.

West Virginia should feel very fortunate that Toyota Motors chose Putnam County to locate an engine plant.  This has been wonderful for our state.  The plant just keeps growing.

But a change is brewing.  Japanese business executives are the most polite people in the world.  A Toyota executive would never say anything derogatory about West Virginia's work force.   But the executive would drop a hint when appropriate.

Recently, Japanese corporate executives convened at the Toyota plant and started dropping hints.  They worried that West Virginia students tested poorly in math and science.  And they worried that West Virginia needed more skilled workers to operate modern equipment.  And they worried about illegal drug use.

If the Japanese were more forthright, like New Jersey plant managers, they would simply say: "Your kids can't add; your young men are wrench-turners in a robot age; and all of them are pot heads."

Here is what happened recently.  The state made a pitch to bring hundreds of new skilled jobs to Hancock County while simultaneously being told in Putnam County that we barely have enough skilled workers to fill the available jobs.

As for students who rank at or near the bottom in math and science, there can only be three reasons.  A). The kids are born with the "stupid gene" and will never learn anything.  B). The public education system has failed to educate our children.  C). The tests used to measure math and science comprehension are faulty.

West Virginia educators have opted for "C" to explain this phenomenon.

As for workers who lack those "tech savvy" skills that everyone likes to talk about, we just don't have an environment to learn these skills.  West Virginia has always been a natural resources state.  "Tech savvy," then, means chainsaws.  We know how to saw logs.  But we export our logs to the furniture manufacturing plants in North Carolina. 

When your job options are coal mine, saw mill or drilling rig, then it's very difficult to learn the skills to operate a complex milling machine at Toyota's engine plant.  Conversely, if you can operate a milling machine, you'll take a machinist's job in another state before going to the mines.

If West Virginia does ramp up tech savvy vocational schools, then the grads of those schools will leave the state if the skilled jobs aren't here. This is no different from losing our college grads to other states for the last 60 years. 

As for West Virginians being dopers, we need to face the fact that drug abuse in our state is a health epidemic. But we have treated the problem as a crime. We have built new prisons and overfilled them. A lot of good this has done.

Drug use is an attitude.  And until our elected leaders, our preachers, our teachers, our doctors and our civic leaders get on soapboxes and shame everyone who gets blitzed on bath salts, Percocet or pot, then our youth will continue to think it's cool when Mom and Dad do drugs.

Believe it or not, drug abuse was not a problem until the 1960s. That's when doctors hooked housewives on Valium, and rock stars glorified marijuana.  Attitudes, how shall I say, changed.

Going forward, West Virginia has some daunting challenges if it hopes to maintain a work force. Consider the biggest hint that the Japanese executives dropped at the Toyota get-together.  They worry about baby boomers retiring and not having skilled workers to replace them.

In New Jersey speak, this means:  No workers?  We're outta here. Bada bing!

In Japanese speak, this means:  We worry about West Virginia's future.

Payroll Tax Cut Is a Recipe for Disaster

"We put those pay roll contributions there so as to give the contributors a legal, moral, and political right to collect their pensions and their unemployment benefits. With those taxes in there, no damn politician can ever scrap my social security program."

President Franklin D. Roosevelt  (Memo to Luther Gulick, 1941)

               Beginning in October of last year, unleaded gasoline traded on the NYMEX for under $2.75 per gallon, and it remained below $2.75 until the end of the year.  For the first nine months of 2011, and except for a few brief dips, gasoline traded at prices over $2.75 per gallon.  Gasoline traded at its highest price for 2011 in April and early May; the wholesale price then was over $3.00 per gallon.

                For the nation’s economy, an economy that measures success by the Christmas shopping season, the downturn in gasoline prices was a boon.  Money saved on gasoline poured into the retail stores, which in turn made the fourth quarter of 2011 look like a turning point in the recovery.

                To examine only gasoline prices does not tell the whole story of the fourth quarter rebound.  The payroll tax cut in effect for 2011 is where consumers’ extra disposable income came from.

                The payroll tax is FICA—the Federal Insurance Contributions Act payment that funds Social Security.  The New Dealers wanted to avoid any mention of a new tax to fund the program.  The plan, after all, was hatched during the Great Depression.  Hence, FICA and not FITA.

                In 2010, tax cutting was on the minds of both the Republicrats and Demolicans.  They got together in a rare bipartisan effort and reduced the employee’s FICA rate from 6.2% to 4.2%.  They unashamedly pronounced this reduction a “tax cut”.  Apparently, maintaining the illusion that Social Security is funded through contributions was no longer necessary.

                As the tax reduction is two per cent of wages, the tax cut varies widely.  A minimum wage worker pockets $5.80 per week.  A clerk who makes $3,000.00 per month pockets $60.00.  A professional making $10,000.00 per month keeps $200.00.

                All in all, the payroll tax cut does not benefit any worker in noticeable fashion.   But the aggregate amount of every worker’s tax cut in a community does add up. 

Some economists maintain that the payroll tax cut is not spent immediately.  Rather, they say that the cut is saved or used to reduce debt such as credit cards.  I believe differently.  I see the tax cut as pure disposable income.

For nine months last year, I would argue that most consumers used their payroll tax cut to offset higher gasoline prices.  Then as gasoline prices fell, the tax cut was spent on groceries and the holiday season splurge. 

The holiday season has become a season of self-gratification first and foremost.  It is human nature to drive more, eat more, and buy the blu-ray version of “Transformers”.  The holiday season is a powerful urge to spend those disposable dollars.

In our current fiscal condition, cutting the payroll tax is neither very smart nor very productive.  We have been told in no uncertain terms that Social Security is running out of money.  We have crossed the threshold—current payroll taxes no longer pay the current benefits to retirees.  We are borrowing money to make up the difference.  There is no trust fund to dip into—just a filing cabinet in Parkersburg filled with IOU’s.

The stimulus effect of the payroll tax cut is negligible if it even exists.  Spending stimulus money on gasoline and groceries just seems to make them go up more in price while wage rates stagnate.  While it would be difficult to calculate the inflationary impact on gasoline and groceries just from the payroll tax cut, one can make the general argument that any artificial subsidy dampens the market’s ability to regulate prices. 

As for stagnant wages, employers have an incentive to pass up giving the workers a 2% raise.  Why bother if Congress is increasing the paycheck by cutting deductions in a like amount?

Here we are in 2012, and the payroll tax cut has been renewed for the year.  When will it become politically feasible to restore the FICA tax back to 6.2%?  Probably not for a long time.

President Ronald Reagan, a conservative Republican, and House Speaker Tip O’Neill, a liberal Democrat, worked together in 1986 to reform the Social Security program.  The FICA rate was raised to 6.2% to preserve the program.

In time, we will regret this payroll tax cut.  A rational worker would never drain his 401(k) or IRA plan to pay for this week’s gasoline.  But our national leaders are so desperate to win elections that they will drain the Social Security program.  This is a formula for disaster.

In a Time of Shadows, Watch the Names With 'K'

"The shadow government is basically a scaled-down version of the one in Washington, with everything necessary to continue critical government operations, including lobbyists, an exact working replica of Dick Cheney, a Starbucks, a five-foot-high Washington monument, and a miniature "congress" made up of gerbils wearing tiny suits who have been trained to hold hearings and authorize the construction of unnecessary highway projects named after Robert C. Byrd.”

Dave Barry, The Miami Herald, April 14, 2002

    After the tragedy of September 11th, 2001, someone of importance announced that there was a shadow government that would replace the elected, constitutional government should an enemy attack wipe it out.  This revelation made headlines.  The American people were not thrilled that there was a secret government operating under cover of the legitimate government.

    I remember when Secretary of State Al Haig announced that he had taken control of the government shortly after President Reagan was shot.  Haig’s coup attempt was more terrifying than the news of the assassination attempt.   

    Call me old fashioned, but I don’t like it when “someone of importance” unilaterally changes the Constitution.

    I have been keeping an eye on Washington DC, and I am now convinced that the shadow government has taken control.  Only recently did I discover how the shadow government is financed.

    The story begins on April 14, 2002.  Dave Barry, the Pulitzer Prize-winning columnist for The Miami Herald, published his annual tax advice column.  Mr. Barry pointed out that taxpayers would have to write two checks to the IRS.  One was for taxes due to the legitimate government.  And the other check was for taxes due to the shadow government.

    Mr. Barry, as you know, is a joker extraordinaire.  But I fear that his light-hearted jest gave someone of importance in the Bush administration the idea of funding a secret government with borrowed money.

    I suspect that “someone of importance” was Karl Rove.  I have never trusted people whose names begin with “K.”  Remember Kim Philby, the infamous double agent in Britain’s MI-6?  The Kardashians?  Boris Karloff?  Former WV state treasurer John Kelly?  (He went to prison for extortion.)  Kato Kaelin?  (OJ’s buddy.)

    My paranoia notwithstanding, it is no mere coincidence that Washington DC lobbyists have offices on K Street.

    Karl Rove’s plan to finance the shadow government with borrowed money was devious.  Enacting the PATRIOT Act laid the groundwork for a weak form of martial law.  What better way to hide a shadow government than by wrapping it in the flag?  Authorizing the Pentagon to shoot its way into Afghanistan and Iraq to search for non-existent WMDs got the military out of the way.  Passage of Medicare Part D, however, was the stroke of Machiavellian genius.

    Medicare Part D did two things.  First, it charmed the silver-haired citizenry with a mega-entitlement to pay for their relentless hypochondria.  Then, the huge profits going to Big Pharma were used to hire more lobbyists to persuade the elected government that mind-boggling deficits in medical accounts were good for America.

    The trap was set.  All the shadow government needed was more deficit spending.  But the Republicans, hapless as they are when it comes to deficit spending, had to be gotten out of the way.  Democrats took control of Congress after the mid-term elections of 2006, a power shift that all but guaranteed huge deficits.

    A shadow government needs a leader; it cannot operate by committee.  So the shadow government decided to hire a community organizer, a friendly pie-server if you will.  This made the ascension of Barack Obama from the Democrat-controlled Senate to the White House possible.

    The rest of the story is history.  Budget deficits exploded.  The elected government gave up trying to pass an annual budget. 

    The elected government abdicated its Constitutional duties last year.  Hopelessly deadlocked on every issue, the elected government appointed a committee of six Representatives and six Senators (including Sens. Kyl, R-Ariz., and Kerry, D-Mass.) to strike a deal to raise the debt ceiling and enact some paltry budget cuts by the year 2075.  In the end, this Super Congress could agree on nothing.  The shadow government had won by default.

    Looking forward in 2012, the elected government will remain paralyzed while the shadow government is on autopilot to borrow another $1 trillion before year end.  The national debt recently surpassed annual GDP making the United States look rather third-worldish.

    Who would have thought that a shadow government could take over the country in a mere decade?

    In the wake of the collapse of the legitimate government, I am on guard.  I have become suspicious of people whose names end with “k.”  Dick Cheney, Barack Obama, Chuck Schumer and Barney Frank are just a few whom I’m keeping an eye on.  These “little ks” are sneakier than the big Ks.



Dave Barry's Shadow Government article

Haves, Have-Nots Both Losing To Inflation

In 1971, a U.S. Army private's basic pay was $3,936 per year. Today, a private's basic pay is $19,739.  When adjusted for inflation, the 1971 Army private was paid more than his modern counterpart. 

Today, one gallon of gasoline costs 10 times more than it did in 1971. After adjusting for improved average automobile mileage rates, fuel per mile driven costs five times as much as it did in 1971. 

The U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics recently released a chart showing that the purchasing power of $1 in 1971 has decreased to a mere 18 cents today. The dollar went off the gold standard in August 1971. Inflation is the cause for the dollar's devaluation.

People don't readily realize the withering effects of four decades of inflation because habits change and comparable goods aren't always available.  For example, television has changed drastically.  You cannot compare a 1971 tube-type color TV to a 2011 high-definition, flat screen TV.  Home video recording was not available in 1971.  Nor were programming packages with 100+ channels.

Fixed base, rotary dial telephones have evolved into cellular phones. The personal computer did not exist 40 years ago. Medical technology — the MRI scan for one — also was impossible before the silicon chip. And GPS satellites have replaced paper road maps to direct motorists to their destinations.

Automobile costs are hard to compare.  On one hand, modern autos are a bargain when it comes to routine maintenance such as replacing tires, brakes and batteries.  On the other hand, the cost of repairing a fender bender can easily total a modern car. 

There are many comparables that have not changed.  Jack Daniels whiskey is one. Disposable diapers are another. Anything made with 100 percent cotton. Aspirin. An 8-pound sledgehammer. One food economist recently calculated that Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings would cost 13 percent more this year than in 2010.  Plywood, framing lumber, copper wire, pipe and concrete are pretty much the same although new houses are generally bigger. Amenities and furnishings have changed, but a one-bedroom apartment is still a one-bedroom apartment.

Over the decades, the Department of Labor has collected a tremendous amount of data while tracking the prices of everything we buy.  The bean counters at the DOL face obstacles in determining the "market basket" of goods and services on which to base the Consumer Price Index.  Sometimes, the CPI calculation can overstate inflation.  If Brand X, a market basket staple, goes up in price, the consumer may very well switch to Brand Y, which sells at a cheaper price. Compiling the CPI also misses coupon shoppers and special sales. 

The CPI market basket includes food and fuel.  Due to their "weight" in the basket, an increase in either cost can ratchet the CPI upward very quickly. Elected politicians do not like this, especially in an election year. Since 2000, our government has relied more and more on the Federal Reserve Price Consumption Expenditure, or PCE, index to measure inflation. The PCE does not consider "core inflation," better known as food and fuel. 

Despite its own shortcomings, the CPI is useful and more relevant to everyday living than the PCE. 

In my opening example using an Army private making $3,936, he would need $22,000 today to stay even with inflation. His high school classmate who took a construction job at $8,000 per year would need $44,725 to stay even.

In 1971, the contractor made twice what the soldier did. In 2011, he still makes twice as much. But look how the gap in nominal dollars between the two has grown from $4,064 in 1971 to $22,725 presently. 

Year after year for 40 years, inflation has clawed away at an annual rate of 4.5 percent. Through pay raises and COLAs, wages have increased to try to keep up with inflation. But as you can see, the compounding effect of incremental percentage increases has led to the wide gulf in nominal dollars between the private and the contractor.

The populists' view of the inflation indexing phenomenon has led them to see America as a nation of haves and have-nots.  In reality, however, wealth measured in inflation-devalued dollars becomes an illusion of wealth. Even the haves are falling behind.

Next year, it appears that both political parties will gin up class warfare rhetoric to win elections.  I hope that the American people will have the good sense to realize that inflation is the enemy, not the haves who resist tax increases or the have-nots who want more income redistribution.

The Battle Beween North, South Continues

I was born in Clarksburg, well south of the Mason-Dixon Line, but not far enough south to be considered a Southerner.  I was born two blocks away from where Stonewall Jackson drew his first breath and one block further from the Stonewall Jackson Hotel.  Still, Clarksburg never has been a Southern town, not in any sense of its Virginia roots or the Old South in general. 

But I did learn what it’s like to live as a Southerner when I went to college in Virginia.  Richmond may have been the capitol of the Confederacy, but Lexington (my college town) was the sacred burial ground of the Old South.  Both General Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson are buried in Lexington. 

To live as a Southerner requires one to learn the riddles of Southern life.  And there are a few distinct riddles that only a Southerner’s mindset can solve.

The riddle that stands out in my experience is: How many Southerners does it change a light bulb?

Forthrightly, the answer is “One.”  Southerners are as dexterous as any folk, and due to the humid heat of the Old South, Southerners work effortlessly to change their light bulbs so as not to work up more of a sweat than is necessary.

The changing of the bulb is a riddle rather than a question because changing a light bulb in the Old South is a ritual.  While one Southerner can physically change the bulb, the ritual is not complete unless a handful of Southerners congregate to wax nostalgic about the faithful service that the old light bulb gave them.

Perhaps this riddle of the Old South stuck in my mind more than the others because Lexington, the burial ground of Lee and Jackson, was still a place where visitors congregated to praise the service of these two men.  Even Yankees who loathed the Confederacy and its stand on slavery have been overheard praising Lee and Jackson as generals and absolving them of their participation in the hostilities.

I was reminded of my Old South education the other day when I went to the hardware store to buy light bulbs.  I could not find a 100-watt bulb anywhere.  The clerks all told me the same thing—that the old bulbs were not being re-stocked because the new bulbs that look like corkscrews are soon to be the law of the land.

Then it hit me like a bowl of day-old grits served cold.  I will be losing all of my old, Edison-style light bulbs.  Their warmth, a warmth that can only be created by heating a tungsten filament, will soon disappear, possibly forever.  Their warmth, a warmth that 100 watts of electricity adds to man-made global warming, is the reason the government has turned on my old friends.

This global warming fever is the handiwork of Al Gore, a supposed son-of-the-south who bought into Yankee Imperialism just to meet haughty women on his Facebook page.  To genteel Southerners, he is their Aaron Burr, a traitor to the light bulb cause.  Some of my esteemed Virginia friends (all from old families I might add) mock Al Gore by referring to him as “Aaron Brrrrrr!”, and then they shiver in disgust.

My visit to the hardware store resulted in my buying a corkscrew bulb that advertised itself as “equivalent” to a 100 watt bulb.  What posh!  A hollow corkscrew full of inert gas pales in comparison to Edison’s tungsten masterpiece.

And whoever heard of a light bulb coming with instructions?  Well, these globe-saving corkscrews do.  It seems they contain mercury and you aren’t supposed to toss them in the garbage can.  The instructions tell the buyer to call a toll-free number or visit a website to learn the disposal rules.

After I read the instructions for disposing this gaseous imposter, I fixed myself a pitcher of mint juleps and celebrated John Barleycorn’s gift to mankind.  The same government that now outlaws Edison’s light bulbs tried outlawing whiskey.  Prohibition was a great boon for Yankee bootleggers and Canadian distilleries, but we Southern bourbon drinkers eventually won that war.  To this day, NASCAR reenacts our battle tactics.

All that the Yankees really want is more tax revenue—Prohibition proved that.  If we agreed to a $2.00 per Edison bulb carbon tax, the Aaron Brrrrrs of this world would declare victory and give us back our tungsten bulbs.

If we win the light bulb war, maybe we could get our old showerheads back and enjoy a cascade of hot water.  Maybe we could buy commodes that flush like they mean it.  And just maybe, we could again buy washing machines that use enough water to launder our clothes.

The tungsten light bulb shall rise again, so sayeth the South.

Keypunched Confessions of an Untaxed Millionaire

I was a millionaire who paid next to nothing in taxes. I used to laugh it off. But when my president began chastising millionaires for not paying more in taxes, my conscience and my patriotism forced me to regret my greedy ways.

It did not help that Warren Buffett was cheering on President Obama and the White Whine Party to oppose Tea Party millionaires who want to keep their money. The pendulum had swung.

My saga began in late November 2010, when the Social Security Administration notified me that my 2009 income was $1,967,732.00. This amount is wrong; I will explain why later. But wouldn't you know? The SSA picked the one year of my tax-paying life that I didn't make more than a million dollars to say that I did!

(Serious readers take note: The previous sentence contains a wild exaggeration.)

I thought a fool's thought. I thought it would be a simple matter to correct SSA's records.

I went to the SSA website, downloaded Form 561-U2, and filed a request for reconsideration on Dec. 9. I even attached information from my tax return to make SSA's job easier.

I did not hear a word from SSA until March 9. Then, SSA replied that the error was due to incorrect information sent to them by the Internal Revenue Service. The letter also instructed me that it was my responsibility — not the SSA's — to contact the IRS and have it correct the error.

This is government at its finest. You wait three months only to be redirected to another government agency.

My next step was to call the IRS to seek advice. After explaining the situation, I was told that the error was mine; that I had keypunched the wrong number when I e-filed my return. The blame game ended, however, when I told the agent that I only file paper returns. Therefore, if it was a keypunch error, it was an IRS keypunch error — not mine.

After considerable study, the IRS called back and advised me to file an amended return. I asked how I could file an amended return when there was nothing to amend. My return, after all, was correct.

The agent then recommended that I dump the problem on the Kansas City office. That's where I had filed my paper return, and perhaps the Kansas City office could override the IRS computer.

It was May 23 when I wrote the Kansas City IRS office. They acknowledged my letter with their standard "45-day letter", which means "Don't expect any action for 45 days."

I got another 45-day letter.

I had the feeling that I was locked in a Twilight Zone curiosity shop that sold grandfather clocks. And for the worse, the clocks chimed but once every three months.

On Sept. 7, the IRS informed me that it had corrected the error. However, the agency failed to send me a transcript that I could forward to the SSA office. To get a copy of the corrected transcript, I had to call an agent. The waiting time alone was 45 minutes, and it took as long for the agent to correct the IRS computer record.

The SSA advised me on Oct.7 that their records had been corrected. It took 10 months and probably 50 hours of my time to correct a split-second keypunch error.

At the outset, I was amazed that the IRS data input system would allow such an obvious error. A clerk had entered a line item ($19,143.00) without inserting the decimal point. Thus, my income was inflated by $1,914,300.00. Bells and whistles should have gone off when this happened.

In this age of precision scanners, why is the IRS relying on keypunch clerks? It's not like Google hired monks to keypunch all of those library books!

The SSA and IRS computers obviously talk to each other. Why couldn't the SSA initiate my request? The SSA should have forced the issue if for no other reason than to discover how junk data from IRS corrupted its database.

Between the SSA, IRS and yours truly, at least 100 man hours were spent correcting this mistake. Maybe even 200 man hours. Maybe 300 man hours.

Like the taxpayers, the IRS and SSA workers are every bit as overwhelmed. It's no wonder. What I went through this year is a case study in poor management of both data and personnel.

To President Obama (and Warren Buffett), I would offer this advice. Before you criticize taxpayers at any level, you should go to the IRS and look under the hood. The search engine that you rely on needs repaired.