August 11th, 2025
I was talking to a man this weekend and everything was going well until it was not.
We men do that.
He, his family and I had found some things in common and were having a generally nice time. He knew what I did for a living and then, out of nowhere, he asked:
“Have you said thank you to Don yet?”
Genuinely confused, I replied: “For what?”
“No tax on tips!” he said.
“I’ll put it on my to-do list,” I said, hoping to put that conversation away.
He, unfortunately, didn’t. He kept pushing it on me. And so finally, to my delight, I got to explain to him what this “no tax” bullshit is in reality. (Screenshot from the bill itself provided for context; photo of me during an era known as Margarita Madness provided to show I once had hair.)
See, this bill only applies to cash tips, which, as you can imagine nowadays, is the smallest percentage of our income and is generally acknowledged as something that servers get to choose how to claim anyway. It’s why so many people choose to tip their favorite servers and bartenders in cash, even if they pay with a card. So, in order to “not pay taxes on it,” the government wants us to claim every single cent we put in our greasy little paws.
Weird, right? That the government would want more oversight on our tips under the guise that they’re doing us a favor?
There’s also a cap on that “no tax” income, which is just hilarious and extremely representative of everything this administration does (or absolutely does not do) for the majority of American citizens who are not billionaires (we still exist!).
So, if you were one of those people who wrote “No Tax On Tips!” on your credit card receipt to send inexplicable support to this pathetic bill (alongside a tip on that receipt which is still getting taxed even after that bill was passed) from this even more pathetic president, I would, sincerely, like to thank you for nothing.
There was so much about this exchange I could not wrap my head around, but first and foremost:
I could not, in my wildest imagination, see myself asking a fellow citizen if they had showed proper gratitude to a political figure, past or present. That is absolute pet behavior, the exact way a dictator would expect his subordinates to behave, or a withholding daddy would his children.
It is, without a doubt, the definition of unhinged.
Especially so when talking about the person we are talking about.
So no: I did not thank Jeffrey Epstein’s best friend today. I did not show gratitude to the pal of Putin and countless other tyrants. I didn’t shake the hand of the felon who has also been found legally liable of sexual assault. I didn’t hug the man who, every day, vomits bigotry and hate in the name of power. I haven’t high-fived the guy who hasn’t done shit for anyone except himself.
I didn’t do any of those things.
Because I am not an insane person.
I am a sane person in an insane world.
And, boy, am I tired, and not entirely grateful.
The Den 