Instead of income tax (which is brutal and inelegant in and of itself), what if we called the money we pay to be a United States citizen something like Freedom Investing. We become members, not just taxpayers.

Citizenship seems to have lost it’s meaning and somehow is misconstrued with free. Memberships we understand. You pay for something and you get it (hopefully). A Freedom Investment means a return for the money put into the partnership. So in return, we get security, government services, etc. It is never going to be free, so why not treat it like what it should have always been – an investment in the American way of life? No. It is a tax. 

Taxes are involuntary, so maybe we make it like a service, like your electric bill. We pay into it as part of the privilege for being an American. It can’t be just another word for tax, however, it must actually be an investment and seen as such by the government and by us. We understand paying a fee for a fitness club, country club or nightclub. We pay a fee to join any group that creates value for the members because we get something in return. A tax seems like a penalty for being a citizen instead of an opportunity. An investment is a chance to build something for everyone, not a black hole for everyone.

To make this work, the government has to be totally transparent (it has not had a great history in the sunshine department as of late). Our leaders have to get rid of waste and treat our investment like a real investment, because that is what it is, or should be. If it were an investment, Wall Street may not be a good model, either, as we have seen.

It is not like we are painting black stripes on a white horse, trying to fool people into thinking it is zebra. The goal is to make sure the money we pay is viewed as an investment – by the people paying it and by the government using it. Even the people who collect the money would see what they do in a different light, perhaps, if it were no longer a tax, but an investment.

“Hello, I’m from the U.S. Investment Service.” is a lot better than, “Hello, I’m from the I.R.S.” 

When the biggest lobby group in DC is us, then our “taxes” will be an investment. Until then, coo coo ka, chew.

All of that makes sense. However, I read in the New York Times that child mortality rates go down when the economy falls. And get this: people buy more laxatives. There are less male births. The top songs get longer and have more meaning than in prosperous economies. Even Playboy Playmates look more mature, taller and heavier. Not Janet Reno mature, but you know what I mean.

With Wall Street in turmoil, the scent of Japan’s late 1990’s malaise drifts around banks and investment companies. Remember when Japan’s real estate bubble pushed a square meter of space to $300,000? Is that like when our banks gave unemployed people mortgages? Perhaps. Bubbles are bubbles, no matter what crack they sneak out of.

It could be that greed and hypocrisy have finally gotten a price tag or that our financial wizards are just downwind of Europe’s more successful stimulus packages. Spending billions on a war or two haven’t helped. Maybe it’s the ugliness of a particularly divisive election where, if we disagree, we’re not Americans. Who knows? Things are weird though.

I went to the grocery store last week in Toledo and there was no Advil and (not that I was looking for it) no Metamucil. Steak gets replaced by beans and rice. Beer, candy and pasta sauce are unaffected by fears of a recession. Investing in chocolate is a good idea if Hershey’s profits are any indication.

If you are brave enough to take a peek at your underperforming 401k in the last few weeks, you’ll see that you may have lost enough to pay off your house or buy a Ferrari. But did you notice dresses getting longer? It happens in recessions. Less cash, less leg. More economic pain, longer work hours. I’m not making this up. It’s all Googleable. It’s in the paper. It’s on the news.

People get healthier during hard times, death rates fall (well, except suicides) because people exercise more, smoke and drink less and have fewer traffic accidents. Back pain decreases as do heart attacks. Pollution is reduced. Weird, huh?

Maybe it’s the laxatives and stress combined. No job means people aren’t driving to work so less pollution and wrecks – and less chance to hurt their backs doing heavy lifting. They eat at home, and that usually means healthier meals, so they lose weight. Besides, with no health coverage, people try to stay well. They can’t afford sickness or injury. I guess bungy jumping and skydiving are probably taking a hit.

It gets stranger. I saw last week that the new Apple Powerbooks have lost their Firewire ports. Not sure that has anything to do with the economy, but might as well blame it on hard times.

Bank accounts are smaller. Cars are smaller. Houses are smaller. Human brains are shrinking in relation to the Dow.

Okay, that last one is just a random observation after riding a Metro train from NYC to New Haven last week with a dozen drunk college students (who clearly missed the official recession memo about less drinking).

In the Detroit airport Friday, as the stock market was doing its daily, 3 pm spiral, a little boy stood in front of a flat screen TV watching CNN.

“Mom, what’s an economic bendicator?” he said.

I looked at his inquisitive face and thought: An economic bendicator is what happens when the billionaires on Wall Street, who never wanted governmental interference with their capitalism, cash those bailout checks for $700 billion.

Somehow, I don’t think the little fellow would have understood. Maybe he will understand when he’s still paying for all of this in 30 years.

Our lives are worth $1 million less today than five years ago according to the Environmental Protection Agency’s latest “value of statistical life.” That’s $6.9 million in today’s dollars, down from $7.9 million. Not good news, but the real question is: Can I use that $6.9 million value as collateral on a “life equity loan?” Probably not, mainly because my loan would be worth more than my devalued life.

Here’s why the government puts a price on our heads: If they make up a law or rule or a regulation that puts a monetary value on human life – let’s say they are weighing the cost versus life-saving benefits, for instance – they need to know what that life value actually is. Now we know – $1 million less than just five years ago.

This may explain why I see so many people talking about losing weight on TV. They are. They’re a lot lighter in the wallet.

I can hear Ronald Reagan asking America (in a debate with Jimmy Carter) if they are better off now than four years ago. Ask us that question now and get ready to count to one million and add a dollar sign on the left.

Basically, this means that – depending on the situation – it is now more cost-effective to let us die. I have suspected this for longer than five years, but it is a punch in the gut to see it admitted in an AP story.

So let me get this straight, you and I are worth a lot less, but gas is worth a lot more. Now I get it. Soon, people won’t be worth the trouble we cause, economically speaking, of course, well, unless those people are wealthy. Like automobiles, some of us are BMW’s and some are used Mavericks, Vegas and Pacers. Using that basic reasoning, it would seem that as people become more affluent, their value goes up, statically. And conversely the opposite as they become poorer.

See where this is going?

While pundits debate recession fears, and global warming is treated like Obama addressing his ex-pastor, gas is headed for $7 a gallon. Don’t believe it will get that expensive? Drive and watch. It will happen.

What has happened already is just as amazing: Hewlett-Packard just launched the memristor, a smart memory chip as small as an atom that will change how we interact with all kinds of electronic and digital devises. And as importantly, how those devises will interact with us. The miniscule memristor allows functions like biological memory and recognition and things I don’t understand well enough to convey in a meaningful way. Dr. Richard Feynman smelled it coming in the 1950’s and Leon Chua predicted it specifically in 1971. Hewlett-Packard has patented it. That’s just the tip of the titanium oxide circuitry. “Open the podbay doors, Hal. Do you read me, Hal? Open the doors.”

Soon LCD and Plasma HDTV screens will be crushed by the astounding imagery of the O.L.E.D technology (organic light emitting diode – look it up). Sony is already launching the XEL-1 (using this technology) with a screen as thin as shirt backing cardboard. Your laptop will be as thin as your paycheck as the gas pump dings off a $140 tank-topper.

Starbucks is scrambling and looking back to the future with Howard Schultz in charge again and trying to reinvent the fresh-roasted giant in a world where no one can afford a $4-$5 latte anymore because they lost their house to a bad ARM, lost their savings to unscrupulous investment firms, and lost their ass buying gas.

I am no futurist, but I read a lot and just remember where you read this: Cheap is hot. Cheap is the new black. Cheap is going to be bigger than George Clooney. It’s already started.

Steve & Barry’s (a clothing retailer where nothing costs more than $10) is quietly slipping more than a billion a year into its cheap pockets. We’re talking celebrity labels that limbo under the prices of joints like Old Navy, Forever 21, and H&M. Steve & Barry’s cuts Wal-Mart prices in half. That should fit your post-economic apocalyptic budget like an $8.98 dress.

By the way, that $8.98 dress designed by Sarah Jessica Parker (of “Sex In The City” fame) is so hot people are standing 20-deep in cash register lines to get them. They’re also lining up to get $8.98 Amanda Bynes hoodies and $8.98 Stephen Marbury basketball shoes. See a pattern forming here? $8.98. Cheap is so hot it can cook a Mickey D’s value menu.

Some shop-til-you-drop-aholics have restrained their top-shelf buying binges and instead of a $300 blouse, they load up on a fist-full of $7 lip glosses to change their daily shade on the cheap.

Watch the highway and tell me how many Toyota Yaris, Ford Focus, and Hyundai cars do you see? Casual Friday is creeping into the other six days because ties and high heels aren’t as cheap as khakis and Mary Jane Crocs at Zappos.

Cheap is in. Cheap is ground zero for consumer habits. Unconventional is in. Thinking, not spending is in. Instead of paying a small fortune to take your family out to a ball game, you can Bluetooth USB-up the scoreboard of your favorite team (myliveboard.com) to your computer and get a cheaper thrill without the $44 seats, $15 parking, $12 hotdogs, and $8 beers.

The ancient routine of getting your degree, getting a job, starting on the ground floor and working your way up to no health care, no retirement, assured layoffs and random firings are old school toast. College students like 23 year-old Nick Massari are starting businesses with his classmates (Nanina’s pasta sauce) that are forking over million dollar sales in a year.

When everything you used to buy and do becomes unaffordable, what do you do? You reinvent; you change the paradigm (like Steve and Barry’s) to look where no one is looking but where everyone is going. You use the economic downturn, the health care crisis, the recession, housing disaster, global warming, job insecurity, gas through the roof of your wallet situations for what they are: Business opportunities.

What do you do when everyone is broke? You sell $8.98 celebrity designer apparel. You offer $1 coffee. You build a vehicle that runs on electricity or water or garbage or manure and burps exhaust fumes that smell like Axe. You don’t wait for the Hewlett-Packard biologically mimicking nano-chip; you use the nano-chips God gave you between your nano-ears and head for where the nano-future is going.

Next stop: Cheapville.

I’ll gladly do it. I’ll treat the little yapper better than the late Tammy Faye treated her bowser. I’ll feed him T-bones and caviar if that’s what barks his snout. He can sleep in the big bedroom. I’ll take him down to Barbados for long walks on the beach.

According to the very public news following the death of the hotel czarina, Leona left somebody $12 million to take care of her dog.

Who?

Me! Over here! I can take care of Trouble, no prob! Here, little fella! Smooch, smooch. Sorry Rudy, you’re now playing second fiddle, pal, and say hello to your stinky little $12 mil friend. Arf. Just let me know where to send the limo, I have a garageful of bitches waiting.

Mrs. Helmsley loved this canine, obviously. Unfortunately for them, though, she wasn’t so enamored with her human survivors. The ex-con (tax evasion in the go-go 1980s) billionaire left her brother $10 million and $5 million each to two of four grandchildren. The other two GC’s got snubbed for “reasons known to them.” Bad move on their part.

Note to grandchildren left out of Granny Leona will: Put up with Trouble. It’s worth 12 big and nasties. It won’t be as hard as putting up with Granny, no doubt.

So what kind of human leaves her dog $12 million and leaves her grandchildren less than half of that or nothing? Ask anyone who worked for the hotel magnate. She wasn’t exactly the kind of person you’d invite over to watch the game on Saturday. Sorry to speak evil of the dead, but sometimes the dead do the evil talking all by themselves. I remember that movie with Suzanne Pleshette. Ouch. How can a woman sound just like James Coburn? Amazing.

Anyway, I will say nothing but nice things and take care of the dog if I can find out where to sign up. Mr. Estate Lawyer, are you reading this? I will get the little pooch a luxury box at a major NFL stadium. I’ll take the chomper to Ruth’s Chris every Friday night and chauffeur Trouble around in a Porsche (or a Ferrari, if he has Italian leanings). No trouble is too big for Trouble. Does he like cable? 500 channels here, baby. You like Nancy Grace? I’ll even watch that (but only for 12 mil).

Considering all the bad things that were said and are still being said about the dog’s former owner, I’d say she named her dog aptly. But I can put up with a lot of Trouble for $12 million.

Wait, who are those 400 people lined up in front of me to claim this dog? Good grief, it’s the same people who wanted Anna Nicole Smith’s baby.

Where’s Cesar Millan when you need him?

Not in Paris Hilton’s cell. Not in a 100-mile line to snag an iPhone. Not on either side of the Congressional aisle or between the elephants and donkeys who want to write on White House stationery. The vice president doesn’t even consider himself part of the executive branch anymore. And nobody’s sure if he’s supposed to be.

This summer the CIA opened its half-century Pandora’s box of “family jewels” – and with it, a stench of old-school patriotic hubris that could knock a buzzard off a manure wagon.

I’d love to contribute to my 401(k), but I opted to buy gas for my chunk of Detroit steel instead. Our highways are so dimpled, a bear stumbled onto an interstate last week here in Richmond and broke his ankle in a pothole. I saw this on TV. Michael Moore immediately flew him to Cuba to be treated – for free.

The real estate market is tanking. Wall Street is turning fearful. Jobs are plentiful, however, especially if you like the kind that starts with $6 an hour and ends with, “Drive to the next window, please.”

If it’s July, that means we’re still neck-deep in two wars without a rope. This summer, Baby Boomers are beginning their slow sojourn to sucking Social Security dry while fueling the only real estate boom in sight: Retirement homes.

Are we to the Hawaiian Shaved Ice snow cone shack yet? How many people are in line at that Cold Stone Creamery?

As the thermometer rises, Susan Decker has her work cut out trying to make Yahoo into Google. Wikipedia is beating CNN to the news punch with free contributors. Terrorists are still claiming God hates airports. And last week, Captain America – after 66 years working the superhero beat – got a cartoon burial at Arlington National Cemetery when an assassin’s bullet felled the Marvel icon. It’s even a tough summer on fake heroes.

Baseball bats are not immune from the paradigm shift. Forget the ubiquitous aluminum sticks that cost up to $380 a swing and sting like grabbing a power line when you tork a screamer down third. Wooden bats are coming back, and the buck-fifty ($150), high tech (six-piece hickory construction) 360º Woody is leading the way. To celebrate the return of wood, let’s raise our steroid syringes and toast the occasion by banking a few dingers off some drunk’s head in the cheap seats.

As I prepare to pay for three kids in college next month, I recall our family’s amazing trip to Maui last year as we watched July 4th fireworks on the beach overlooking the Pacific. This year, we’ll be enjoying bottle rockets and rat chasers next to a soybean field in Alabama while a group of Bubbas croon, “I’m proud to be an Amurican, whur at least I know um freeeee.” If you have visited Maui and Alabama, I don’t have to explain the difference between those two experiences.

Just when I thought this summer couldn’t suck any harder, along come nightly predictions of apocalypse on Coast to Coast AM, the highest-rated after-dark radio show in America. Evangelicals, readers of Mayan calendars, environmentalists, amateur scholars and a bus full of people eating high-fiber grains have all reserved a seat on the Big Finale Tour of 2012, the year the Mayans said the world, as we know it, would end. Guess they’re getting a five-year head start.

These groups point to everything from honeybees disappearing and Yellowstone’s volcanic bulge to climate changes and Biblical doom. Increasing UFO activity, migratory birds falling from the sky, glaciers melting, earthquakes, nuclear winter, super hurricanes, magnetic pole shifts, Tom Cruise and Scientology – I am scared to go to Wal-Mart to buy an energy-efficient light bulb because – hell-fire-and-damnation-on-a-seseme-seed-bun – the glow from that meteor landing in my kitchen will get the job done.

This summer is the reason I love fall.