That's what I wrote in the "For" field of my check made out to the United States Treasury.
I may be living in France now, but I still pay US taxes. And today is that highest of high holy days, Tax Day.
While I used to look forward to doing my taxes - I typically got a big refund - this year I was nervous. I'd waited 'til the last moment to do it, and as has been the trend for the middle class under President Chimpy McShithead of Texas, I've been owing money to the government lately. On top of the costs of relocating to another country, there's the whole pathetic exchange rate to deal with. (Today's glorious rate: €1=$1.58) So I'm loathe to spend any more money than is necessary.
And wouldn't you know it? I owe. As does Alannah. Luckily, our total owed is reasonable, so it wasn't too painful. In fact, the check I cut is easily less than the price of a decent dinner for two in Paris.
But I'll bitch and moan about having to pay even pennies to a government that provides me with no healthcare, crap for education, a joke of a transit system, and a blunder of a war.
Sure, around this time next year, I'll be forking out thousands of euros (they don't withhold taxes from paychecks here) in one painful chunk, at a percentage likely outstripping anything I paid in the US, even under a high bracket during a Democratic presidency. (Let's just say I was making - and paying - bank in those "golden" years under President Slippery McSkeevy of Arkansas.)
In exchange, though, I'll be enjoying full health coverage, dirt cheap education, subsidized and plentiful transit, more public art than you can shake a stick at, and best of all, regulated bread prices. In fact, a hot, fresh, artisanal baguette - 250 grams of flaky, chewy goodness - costs less than one international stamp to mail in your blood money.
I'm so glad I'm someplace where they've got their priorities straight!