Mitt Romney says his new tax plan adds up. It doesn't. It means higher taxes for the poor, huge tax cuts for the rich, and huge deficits. Call him George W. Romney.
Well, of course Romney's new tax numbers don't add up.
Romney's plan has gone through several iterations, but through it all the the basic contours and basic impracticality have stayed the same. As I have described it before, Romney's plan is a three-legged stool that doesn't stand. He wants to 1) cut tax rates by 20 percent across the board; 2) fully pay for these tax rate cuts by cutting tax expenditures; and 3) cut taxes for the middle class without reducing the tax burden of the rich.
This is all kinds of impossible. For one, the nonpartisan Tax Policy Center pointed out there aren't enough tax expenditures for the rich to pay for Romney's tax rate cuts for the rich -- in other words, his plan couldn't help but reduce high-end taxes. Romney would have to either abandon his tax cuts for the rich, raise taxes on the middle class, or explode the deficit. The latter seemed most likely given Romney's refusal to name a single expenditure he would eliminate -- although he had previously hinted at a few -- before he switched tacks. Romney's new plan is to cap household expenditures rather than cut specific expenditures. He's floated several versions of this plan, but at the second debate he said he would limit households to $25,000 of deductions and credits. It's a very clever idea. It would spare Romney from the, ahem, taxing battle with special-interest groups over which expenditures get the ax and which don't. But it's not so clever that it makes Romney's tax plan work. Nothing short of suspending the rules of arithmetic can do that.
Meet the new Romney tax plan, same as the old Romney tax plan. It's a massive tax cut for the rich, a small tax cut for the middle class, and a tax hike for the poor. That adds up to mega-deficits. How mega? Well, the Tax Policy Center calculates Romney's $25,000 cap would raise about $1.3 trillion over a decade -- against almost $5 trillion in tax cuts over that period. And remember, that's a $3.7 trillion hole relative to a world with the Bush tax cuts. It's an almost $8 trillion dollar hole compared to a world with Bill Clinton-level taxes.
Here's what this means for households. Combining this table showing the revenue gains with this table gives us, my apologies, what might be the world's least helpful graph that shows the average tax cut each income group would receive under the Romney plan. If you're far-sighted, it's a $150 hike for the bottom quintile, a $722 cut for the middle quintile, and a $496,115 cut for the top 0.1 percent.
Here's a slightly more useful version of the same chart that excludes the top 10 percent of households.
There are three big stories here. First, Romney's plan actually hurts low-income households, because it lets the tax credits from the stimulus, which were renewed in 2010, expire. These credits, all of which are at least partially refundable, include expansions of the American Opportunity Tax Credit, the Earned Income Tax Credit and the Child Tax Credit. Second, Romney's across the board 20 percent rate cuts help higher earners more, because their rates are higher to begin with -- in other words, 20 percent of 35 percent is more than 20 percent of 25 percent. And third, capping deductions hits higher earners hardest, but it doesn't hurt them nearly as much as the rate cuts help them. Still, it's worth emphasizing just how progressive capping itemized deductions would be by itself. The chart below looks at what percent of the overall revenue gained from a $25,000 cap would come from each income group. Over half of the $1.3 trillion the cap would raise would come from the top 1 percent, and 81.7 percent of it from the top 10 percent.
This gets at the fundamental contradiction of Romney's tax plan. He can't raise enough revenue without raising taxes on the middle class, which he has promised not to do. Now, his deduction cap should be a shrewd way to make it all work. The cap raises money mostly from higher income households, because those households take more itemized deductions and those deductions are worth more to them due to their higher tax brackets. Romney's problem is his tax cuts are far too deep to make this math -- or any math! -- work. Even if he set the cap at zero -- that is, eliminated itemized deductions altogether -- the numbers would not come close to adding up. The Tax Policy Center calculates zeroing out all deductions would only generate around $2 trillion over a decade under Romney's plan. That would leave Romney with a big, fat $3 trillion hole -- which, remember, is actually a $3.7 trillion hole when we use his actual plan.
And that leaves us with one caveat and one question. The caveat is the Tax Policy Center only looked at deductions, and not credits, for the $25,000 cap. As Bob Williams of the Tax Policy Center explained to me, deductions and credits are apples and oranges -- deductions reduce taxable income according to tax rates and credits reduce taxable income directly. They can't be combined. The question is what Romney would do about his $3.7 trillion revenue gap. Kevin Hassett, one of his economic advisers, suggested Romney might back off his high-end tax rate cuts, but the campaign quickly dismissed this, as did Romney himself when he was asked about it point-blank during the second debate. Now we're down to doors two and three -- either Romney expands his cap to include tax exclusions or he expands the deficit by a cool $3.7 trillion. I'll give you one guess which looks more likely. Romney has already ruled out including the biggest exclusion, employer healthcare, under his cap -- which means forfeiting the $2 trillion in revenue doing so would raise over the next decade. Romney could include the exclusion for pension contributions -- think IRAs and 401(k)s -- or the exclusion of capital gains on death, but doing so would violate his promise to preserve the preferences for savings and investment. We're running out of big exclusions. In other words, Romney's plan to pay for his tax cuts is not to pay for his tax cuts.
In the final analysis, Romney's tax plan means higher taxes for the poor, huge tax cuts for the rich, and huge deficits. Who does that remind you of? It sounds like George W. Bush, only if George W. Bush thought the 47 percent were a bunch of lucky duckies.
Compassionate conservatism is out. Severe conservatism is in.
There are two types of people in the world: those with hundreds of unread messages, and those who can’t relax until their inboxes are cleared out.
For some, it’s a spider. For others, it’s an unexpected run-in with an ex. But for me, discomfort is a dot with a number in it: 1,328 unread-message notifications? I just can’t fathom how anyone lives like that.
How is it that some people remain calm as unread messages trickle into their inboxes and then roost there unattended, while others can’t sit still knowing that there are bolded-black emails and red-dotted Slack messages? I may operate toward the extreme end of compulsive notification-eliminators, but surveys suggest I’m not alone: One 2012 study found that 70 percent of work emails were attended to within six seconds of their arrival.
This has led me to a theory that there are two types of emailers in the world: Those who can comfortably ignore unread notifications, and those who feel the need to take action immediately.
The plight of non-tenured professors is widely known, but what about the impact they have on the students they’re hired to instruct?
Imagine meeting your English professor by the trunk of her car for office hours, where she doles out information like a taco vendor in a food truck. Or getting an e-mail error message when you write your former biology professor asking for a recommendation because she is no longer employed at the same college. Or attending an afternoon lecture in which your anthropology professor seems a little distracted because he doesn’t have enough money for bus fare. This is an increasingly widespread reality of college education.
Many students—and parents who foot the bills—may assume that all college professors are adequately compensated professionals with a distinct arrangement in which they have a job for life. In actuality those are just tenured professors, who represent less than a quarter of all college faculty. Odds are that students will be taught by professors with less job security and lower pay than those tenured employees, which research shows results in diminished services for students.
In any case, people have probably heard the phrase in reference to something gone awry at work or in life. In either setting, when the shit does hit the fan, people will tend to look to the most competent person in the room to take over.
And too bad for that person. A new paper by a team of researchers from Duke University, University of Georgia, and University of Colorado looks at not only how extremely competent people are treated by their co-workers and peers, but how those people feel when, at crucial moments, everyone turns to them. They find that responsible employees are not terribly pleased about this dynamic either.
New research confirms what they say about nice guys.
Smile at the customer. Bake cookies for your colleagues. Sing your subordinates’ praises. Share credit. Listen. Empathize. Don’t drive the last dollar out of a deal. Leave the last doughnut for someone else.
Sneer at the customer. Keep your colleagues on edge. Claim credit. Speak first. Put your feet on the table. Withhold approval. Instill fear. Interrupt. Ask for more. And by all means, take that last doughnut. You deserve it.
Follow one of those paths, the success literature tells us, and you’ll go far. Follow the other, and you’ll die powerless and broke. The only question is, which is which?
Of all the issues that preoccupy the modern mind—Nature or nurture? Is there life in outer space? Why can’t America field a decent soccer team?—it’s hard to think of one that has attracted so much water-cooler philosophizing yet so little scientific inquiry. Does it pay to be nice? Or is there an advantage to being a jerk?
Science: Humblebragging doesn’t work. If you want to brag, just brag. Even better, just complain.
"Nothing is more deceitful," said Darcy, "than the appearance of humility. It is often only carelessness of opinion, and sometimes an indirect boast." - Jane Austen
Praise and sympathy: They are two of life’s essentials, the oxygen and carbon dioxide of social interaction. The first is most directly elicited by bragging, and the second, by complaining. The humblebrag—e.g. I’m exhausted from Memorial Day weekend; it’s soooo hard to get out of Nantucket—sits at the center of these competing needs. It is a boast in sheepish clothing, kvelling dressed in kvetch. And, like nearly all forms of multi-tasking, the drive to satisfy two goals at once typically results in double-failure.
The military origins of wearable tech, a century before the Apple Watch
On July 9, 1916, The New York Timespuzzled over a fashion trend: Europeans were starting to wear bracelets with clocks on them. Time had migrated to the human wrist, and the development required some explaining.
“Until recently,” the paper observed, “the bracelet watch has been looked upon by Americans as more or less of a joke. Vaudeville artists and moving-picture actors have utilized it as a funmaker, as a ‘silly ass’ fad.”
But the wristwatch was a “silly-ass fad” no more. “The telephone and signal service, which play important parts in modern warfare, have made the wearing of watches by soldiers obligatory,” the Times observed, two years into World War I. “The only practical way in which they can wear them is on the wrist, where the time can be ascertained readily, an impossibility with the old style pocket watch.” Improvements in communications technologies had enabled militaries to more precisely coordinate their maneuvers, and coordination required soldiers to discern the time at a glance. Rifling through your pocket for a watch was not advisable in the chaos of the trenches.
The Islamic State is no mere collection of psychopaths. It is a religious group with carefully considered beliefs, among them that it is a key agent of the coming apocalypse. Here’s what that means for its strategy—and for how to stop it.
What is the Islamic State?
Where did it come from, and what are its intentions? The simplicity of these questions can be deceiving, and few Western leaders seem to know the answers. In December, The New York Times published confidential comments by Major General Michael K. Nagata, the Special Operations commander for the United States in the Middle East, admitting that he had hardly begun figuring out the Islamic State’s appeal. “We have not defeated the idea,” he said. “We do not even understand the idea.” In the past year, President Obama has referred to the Islamic State, variously, as “not Islamic” and as al-Qaeda’s “jayvee team,” statements that reflected confusion about the group, and may have contributed to significant strategic errors.
For many intellectually and developmentally disabled people, large campuses or farmsteads may be better options than small group homes. But new state laws could make it hard for big facilities to survive.
In December 2014, I watched 24-year-old Andrew Parles fit wood shapes into a simple puzzle in the new vocational building at the Bancroft Lakeside Campus, a residential program in New Jersey that serves 47 adults with autism and intellectual disabilities. The task wasn’t challenging for Andrew, but his team was taking it slow: Andrew was still recovering from surgery after detaching his own retinas through years of self-injurious behavior. A staff member stood nearby—not hovering, exactly, but close enough to intervene if Andrew suddenly started to hit himself in the head. His mother, Lisa, was hopeful that he’d soon able to participate in the programs he had enjoyed before his surgery: working in Lakeside’s greenhouse, painting in the art studio, delivering food for Meals on Wheels.
A preoccupation with safety has stripped childhood of independence, risk taking, and discovery—without making it safer. A new kind of playground points to a better solution.
Atrio of boys tramps alongthe length of a wooden fence, back and forth, shouting like carnival barkers. “The Land! It opens in half an hour.” Down a path and across a grassy square, 5-year-old Dylan can hear them through the window of his nana’s front room. He tries to figure out what half an hour is and whether he can wait that long. When the heavy gate finally swings open, Dylan, the boys, and about a dozen other children race directly to their favorite spots, although it’s hard to see how they navigate so expertly amid the chaos. “Is this a junkyard?” asks my 5-year-old son, Gideon, who has come with me to visit. “Not exactly,” I tell him, although it’s inspired by one. The Land is a playground that takes up nearly an acre at the far end of a quiet housing development in North Wales. It’s only two years old but has no marks of newness and could just as well have been here for decades. The ground is muddy in spots and, at one end, slopes down steeply to a creek where a big, faded plastic boat that most people would have thrown away is wedged into the bank. The center of the playground is dominated by a high pile of tires that is growing ever smaller as a redheaded girl and her friend roll them down the hill and into the creek. “Why are you rolling tires into the water?” my son asks. “Because we are,” the girl replies.
Orr: “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace. My name is Tyrion Lannister.”
At last! I know I speak for quite a few book readers when I say that pretty much the only thing that kept me going through the eleventy thousand discursive, digressive pages of George R. R. Martin’s fifth tome, A Dance With Dragons, was the promise of Tyrion finally meeting up with Daenerys Targaryen. And, of course, after eleventy thousand pages, it never happened. So on behalf of myself and everyone else who sacrificed sleep, work, family, and friends waiting for this moment, let me say thank you, David Benioff and D. B. Weiss. Bonus points for what seemed to be a cameo by Strong Belwas (a book character who was written out of the show) as the nameless fighter who freed Tyrion from his chains.