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  • Dynastic Wealth held forever

    Apparently you can secure dynastic wealth and keep it away from estate taxes and other taxes forever..................... just by registering in South Dakota.

    There is no stopping it.

    http://www.bloomberg.com/news/2013-1...s-forever.html

    Among the nation’s billionaires, one of the most sought-after pieces of real estate right now is a quiet storefront in Sioux Falls, South Dakota.

    A branch of Chicago’s Pritzker family rents space here, down the hall from the Minnesota clan that controls the Radisson hotel chain, and other rooms held by Miami and Hong Kong money.

    Don’t look for any heiresses in this former five-and-dime. Most days, the small offices that represent these families are shut. Even empty, they provide their owners with an important asset: a South Dakota address for their trust funds.

    In the past four years, the amount of money administered by South Dakota trust companies like these has tripled to $121 billion, almost all of it from out of state. The families needn’t actually move to South Dakota, or deposit their money at a local bank, or even touch down in the private jet. Little more than renting an address in Sioux Falls is required to take advantage of South Dakota’s tax-friendly trust laws.
    Graphic: Tax-Friendly South Dakota Shelters Out-of-State Billions

    States like South Dakota are “creating laws that are conducive to a massive exploitation of a federal tax loophole,” said Edward McCaffery, a professor at the University of Southern California’s Gould School of Law. “We have a tax haven in our midst.”

    South Dakota’s sudden popularity illustrates how, at a time of rising U.S. economic inequality, the wealthiest Americans are embracing ever more creative ways to reduce taxes legally. Executives at South Dakota Trust Co., one of the biggest in the state, estimate that one-quarter of their business comes from special vehicles known as “dynasty trusts,” which are designed to avoid the federal estate tax. Creation of such trusts has surged in recent years as changes in federal law enabled more money to be placed in them.
    Dynastic Wealth

    While the super-rich use various tools to escape the levy - - some have exotic names like the “Jackie O” trust and the “Walton GRAT” -- the advantage of dynasty trusts is that they shield a family’s wealth forever. That defies the spirit of the estate tax, enacted almost 100 years ago to discourage the perpetuation of dynastic wealth.

    The dynasty trust isn’t South Dakota’s only lure. Another attraction, for customers in places like New York and Massachusetts, is the chance to shelter their investments from income taxes in their home states. In November, a government commission in New York recommended tightening trust laws to avoid income-tax leakage to states like South Dakota, estimating the change would raise an extra $150 million a year.
    Prairie Bermuda

    Still others are drawn to South Dakota’s iron-clad secrecy, and protections of trust assets from creditors and ex-wives. Many of these features emulate those available in Bermuda and other island havens. Some wealthy families are also attracted by South Dakota rules that enhance their control over investment decisions and make it easier for them to set up their own trust companies rather than rely on a bank trustee.

    In South Dakota, a farm state that’s home to two of the 10 poorest counties in the U.S., lawmakers say they’re bolstering the trust industry to generate work for local law firms and bankers, and forge ties with prosperous families that may one day decide to build a factory or a warehouse here. The legislators are turning the Mount Rushmore State into the Bermuda of the prairie.

    As much as anyone, Pierce H. McDowell III can take credit for this transformation. He works upstairs from the hall of empty offices, on the second floor of the old Kresge five-and-dime, where he’s president of South Dakota Trust Co.
    American Siberia

    At 56, McDowell has been promoting the state he affectionately calls “North America’s Siberia” for most of his career. In 1993, he published an article in a national estate-planning journal recommending that wealthy people across the country establish dynasty trusts in South Dakota.

    Because the estate tax is imposed on large fortunes at death, McDowell wrote, wealth that’s big enough to last for generations will have to contend with multiple tax bills. A father pays the tax when he leaves his money to his children, who pay again when they pass it down. Each generation faces a toll. The current rate is 40 percent.

    McDowell’s solution was for the father to establish a never-ending trust that pays each generation of heirs only what they spend, while the rest of the money grows. In 1993, when McDowell was writing, that wasn’t possible in 47 of the 50 states because of an ancient rule limiting the duration of trusts to the lifetime of a living heir, plus 21 years. The concept has been a part of Anglo-American jurisprudence since a case decided by England’s Lord Nottingham in 1681.
    Fortune Shield

    South Dakota repealed that rule in 1983, and unlike Idaho and Wisconsin -- the other two states without the provision -- it had no income tax. So, McDowell wrote, a trust set up here could shield a big fortune from taxes for centuries, escaping tax bills as it hands out cash to great-great-great-grandchildren and beyond.

    Over dinner at a Sioux Falls restaurant this month, McDowell elaborates on the idea. He has curly gray hair and a quick laugh, and he’s wearing an open collar under a quilted winter vest. He’s known around town for making the one-mile trek to his office on a fat-tire bicycle, even in December.

    “I like to equate it to the wine in this glass,” McDowell says, covering his Cabernet with his right hand. “Here you’ve filled it to the rim and push it downstream to the next generation. You can sip from it, you can have the equivalent of outright ownership, but you don’t own it under the law. Your children -- they too will have the opportunity to sip from it.” He cups his hands as if to cradle the precious liquid.
    In most states, the glass has to pour out completely in a generation or two. We did away with that in 1983.” He chops the air with his hand.
    ‘Trust Tsunami’

    McDowell’s sales pitch got far more attractive in the past few years, when Congress gave the idea an inadvertent boost.
    “I call it the trust tsunami of 2012,” McDowell said.

    The reason most Americans don’t have to worry about the estate tax -- fewer than one in 700 pay it -- is because Congress applies the tax, and related taxes on other transfers to heirs, only when a fortune exceeds certain thresholds. For complicated reasons, the amount that most people can place in dynasty trusts is usually limited to one of these exemptions, which was set at about $1 million throughout the 1990s. It’s the size of the glass into which a wealthy family can pour the wine.

    Throughout the 2000’s, this exemption rose, and by 2011, it reached a record $5 million per individual. The temporary law was scheduled to expire after 2012, at which point it would revert to $1.4 million. Congress didn’t act to make the higher amount permanent until Jan. 1, 2013.
    Trust Rush

    With the fate of the exemption uncertain, McDowell said his clients rushed to meet the deadline during the last few months of 2012, creating billions of dollars’ worth of new trusts. He had to turn away new customers, and hire retirees to handle the crush of paperwork. There were late nights and shortened Christmas vacations. By the end of the year, he said he’d added about 500 trusts to his rolls, more than twice the number in a typical year.

    For the richest families, even a $5 million dynasty trust represents only a fraction of their fortunes, so lawyers have invented complicated strategies to squeeze bigger sums into the vehicles -- as much as $39 million, according to a presentation by McDowell’s firm published last year. Such aggressive maneuvers, once common, have become rare in recent years, McDowell said.
    Office Space

    McDowell’s firm now administers trusts worth $14 billion, according to its website, almost all of them originating in other states. An additional $75 billion is overseen by the offices downstairs, each of which is technically a separate trust company catering to just one family. The companies pay rent to McDowell for the office space, and fees for handling paperwork and administrative duties like filing tax returns; McDowell declined to comment on the price of these services. All of these are necessary steps if the families want to prove that the trusts are truly South Dakotan.

    The tenants include companies like Carlson Family Trust Co., serving the Minnesota family behind Radisson and the TGI Friday’s restaurant chain, and JHN Trust Co., linked in state incorporation papers to the family of the late New York hedge fund pioneer Jack Nash. Other companies have ties to Thomas Peterffy, the Connecticut online-brokerage billionaire; the descendants of a namesake of the Dillon Read & Co. investment bank; and the heirs of a Peruvian sugar plantation, state filings show.
    Italian Castle

    Trusts overseen in the Kresge five-and-dime building hold all kinds of assets, from stakes in private companies to a castle in Italy. While their holdings aren’t public, securities filings sometimes offer a glimpse. In July, the two top executives at Monster Beverage Corp. (MNST), the Corona, California-based energy drink maker, shifted $478 million of their stock to undisclosed “entities” controlled by a trust company based in the building.

    In 2010, the Pritzker family, whose members include U.S. Commerce Secretary Penny Pritzker, revealed in a securities filing that one branch had moved $360 million of Hyatt Hotels Corp. (H) stock to trusts overseen by a native South Dakotan named Thomas J. Muenster. Muenster, whose sister married a Pritzker, maintains an office in the Kresge building.

    The SEC disclosures don’t show whether any of these moves resulted in federal or state tax savings; the amounts exceed what one individual could put in a dynasty trust. Most state and federal tax filings are private, and McDowell declined to comment on specific clients. He said most families that set up private trust companies are attracted by South Dakota’s flexible trust management rules rather than tax avoidance.
    ‘Family Tradition’

    The Monster executives declined to comment through a spokeswoman, as did the Carlson family. Jay Robert Pritzker, his sister Penny Pritzker, and his brother-in-law Muenster didn’t respond to messages seeking comment, nor did Peterffy or Joshua Nash of JHN.

    “Our family tradition has been to keep things private,” said Mark Collins, a manager of Dillon Trust Co. “We prefer to keep it that way.”
    In 2007, the Wrigley family, heirs to the candy fortune, transferred oversight of family trusts holding $1.9 billion of company stock to a private trust company in the Kresge building, according to an SEC filing.

    The family picked South Dakota because of the state’s favorable laws governing the formation of private trust companies, the Chicago family said last week in a statement attributed to William Wrigley Jr. The family said the move didn’t involve any state or federal tax savings.
    Disinterested Congress

    President Barack Obama has called for closing the dynasty trust loophole in annual budget proposals, even though the change wouldn’t boost tax receipts under his administration. The impact of dynasty trusts on federal revenue is far in the future -- though potentially enormous, said Lawrence Waggoner, a retired professor at University of Michigan Law School.

    “The federal government won’t lose out for maybe 90 years, and maybe that’s why Congress is not terribly interested in the subject,” Waggoner said. “The longer they procrastinate, you have larger and larger amounts in perpetually tax-exempt trusts.”

    One clue to how much wealthy families might save comes in McDowell’s 1993 article. Just $1 million invested in a dynasty trust, and earning 12 percent a year, would swell to $1.9 billion in 85 years, he wrote -- compared with $488 million if the same trust was located in New York, subject to both state income taxes and the federal estate tax when it expired.

    Beneficiaries must still pay personal income tax on distributions from these trusts, McDowell said. If a family runs out of heirs before a trust is exhausted, the leftovers are typically directed to a charity, he said.
    Proven Tactic

    Loosening local laws to attract out-of-state business is a proven tactic for South Dakota. In 1981, it lured Citicorp’s credit-card business -- and hundreds of jobs -- from New York by becoming the first state to repeal limits on interest rates. Other lenders followed. The credit-card industry, along with a boom in farm profits, help explain why Sioux Falls’ unemployment rate of 2.9 percent is less than half the national average. Pockets of poverty persist in American Indian reservations in the state’s midsection.

    So far, the trust industry’s contributions to state coffers have been modest. Without an income tax, South Dakota doesn’t get revenue directly from the trusts. Companies like McDowell’s pay franchise taxes on their earnings, a levy that raised about $1.2 million last year, according to the state Department of Revenue, out of a state budget of about $4 billion.
    ‘Worth It’

    Nor has the industry become a major employer. The state estimates that about 100 South Dakotans work for locally chartered trust companies. Then there are an unknown number of jobs in local trust units of national banks such as Wells Fargo & Co. (WFC), and more work for local law firms and accountants. The trusts aren’t required to hire local money managers or invest in local businesses. By comparison, a typical Wal-Mart Supercenter, of which there are two in Sioux Falls, employs about 350 people.

    “If you’ve got several hundred well-paying jobs, it’s worth it to us,” said Governor Dennis Daugaard, a Republican who used to travel to Minneapolis pitching tax-saving trusts when he worked at a bank in Sioux Falls. “It also gives us the opportunity to develop relationships with people who have the ability to encourage business here of other sorts. Now, I can’t point to a single case where that’s occurred yet, but I think it’s possible.”
    Perpetual Trusts

    When he’s away on state business in New York or Chicago, Daugaard said, he sometimes takes time to meet with wealthy clients of the South Dakota trust industry. He said he thanks them for doing business in his state.

    McDowell’s 1993 article publicizing South Dakota’s advantages helped him land a job at Citicorp, setting up trusts for the bank’s clients. As the lender started promoting South Dakota’s advantages nationally, Delaware passed a similar law allowing perpetual trusts.
    Alaska was next, after a fishing trip there inspired a New York estate planning lawyer named Jonathan Blattmachr to draft the legislation. A half dozen states, including Nevada and New Hampshire, now jostle for the business of the super-rich.

    To try to maintain its edge, South Dakota assembled a permanent task force comprising industry players such as McDowell to monitor developments in other states and propose new legislation each year. In March, Governor Daugaard signed the group’s latest submission into law, making it harder for former spouses and their offspring to tap certain trust assets.
    Eye Rolls

    The bill was sponsored by the House’s Committee on State Affairs, whose chairman, David Lust, is also House majority leader and head of the trust task force. When the part-time legislature isn’t in session, Lust works at a Rapid City law firm where one of his partners is a leading trust lawyer.

    Lust receives no “direct benefit” from the legislation, he said.

    Bernie Hunhoff, a Democrat and the House minority leader, said some in his caucus roll their eyes when the task force’s annual proposals come up for a vote. They’re aware that the trust industry drains revenue from the U.S. Treasury, which supplies almost half the state’s budget each year, he said.

    “There’s a bit of an irony there, if not hypocrisy,” said Hunhoff, editor and publisher of South Dakota Magazine. “Anything we can do to poke the federal government in the eye, or to help anybody, even wealthy strangers from 1,000 miles away, avoid taxes, that seems to be a popular thing out here.”

    Still, Hunhoff said the proposals have bipartisan -- and virtually unanimous -- support.

    “If we don’t provide for these kinds of trusts here, this will happen in some other state, so we might as well try to get the activity here,” he said. “If we can find opportunity for a few dozen young lawyers, I guess I’ll set my philosophical concerns aside.”

  • #2
    Re: Dynastic Wealth held forever

    the u.s. is becoming more and more like the rest of the world [and vice versa]. we're going from "a shining city on a hill" to just another neighborhood.

    Comment


    • #3
      Re: Dynastic Wealth held forever

      Originally posted by jk View Post
      the u.s. is becoming more and more like the rest of the world [and vice versa]. we're going from "a shining city on a hill" to just another neighborhood.
      You are far to kind. Ignorance is one thing, but to act no differently with our inheritance is the moral equivalent of burning the books. A savage cannibal can be tamed by missionary's persuasion. Aristocratic vampires have heard many times and rejected.

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      • #4
        Re: Dynastic Wealth held forever

        Jamie Dimon's Christmas card. Really.

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        • #5
          Re: Dynastic Wealth held forever

          The envy is thick in here today.

          Comment


          • #6
            Re: Dynastic Wealth held forever

            Originally posted by Mn_Mark View Post
            The envy is thick in here today.
            envy?

            ..... you mistake envy for acceptance, reality and empathy toward the present social situation.

            How can you sit idly by and make a comment like that when you see kids, homeless people etc begging for food on the street? Individuals through no fault of their own except the unlucky draw of the genetic lottery suffering with cancer or any other malady resulting in insurmountable medical bills which virtually guarantee them a life of misery if they survive?

            Envy, I think not.

            Comment


            • #7
              Re: Dynastic Wealth held forever

              Originally posted by ProdigyofZen View Post
              envy?

              ..... you mistake envy for acceptance, reality and empathy toward the present social situation.

              How can you sit idly by and make a comment like that when you see kids, homeless people etc begging for food on the street? Individuals through no fault of their own except the unlucky draw of the genetic lottery suffering with cancer or any other malady resulting in insurmountable medical bills which virtually guarantee them a life of misery if they survive?

              Envy, I think not.
              +1

              I was at the pharmacy today for a prescription that used to be bearable to buy...it went up 400% since October, along with a lot of other drugs.

              My small town Pharmacist even asked me if I wanted to buy it...I winced, paid for one month, and will hit my doctor again in January...for a trusty, and cheap generic that I already knows works for me.

              Comment


              • #8
                Re: Dynastic Wealth held forever

                Originally posted by Mn_Mark View Post
                The envy is thick in here today.
                I think it has something to do with being richer than us because he don't need no capital ratios cause da guberment got his back.


                https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8G871csJS6Q

                That's why I have no envy but admiration for anyone who got rich because they invented something as lowly as a garbage bag twist tie.

                Guy's a dirt bag.

                Comment


                • #9
                  Re: Dynastic Wealth held forever

                  Lewis Lapham...Unintended Humor

                  Even in one’s own day and age it’s never a simple matter to catch the drift in the wind or judge the lay of the land. Lenny Bruce remarks on the collapse of his off-color nightclub act in front of a milk-white audience in Milwaukee -- “They don’t laugh, they don’t heckle, they just stare at me in disbelief” -- and I’m reminded of my own first encounter, at the age of 13, with a silence casting me into an outer darkness in a galaxy far, far away.

                  In the autumn of 1948 on my first Sunday at a Connecticut boarding school, the headmaster (a pious and confiding man, as grave as he was good) welcomed the returning and newly arriving students with an edifying sermon. Protestant but nondenominational, the chapel had been built to the design of an early-eighteenth-century New England spiritual simplicity -- white wood, unstained glass, straight-backed pews set in two sternly disciplined rows before an unobtrusive pulpit. The students were arranged alphabetically by class, seniors to the fore, preps, myself among them, fitted into the choir loft above the doors at the rear. My family having moved east from California only a few weeks prior to my being sent off to school, I’d never before seen a Connecticut landscape.

                  More to the point, I’d only twice been inside a church, for an uncle’s wedding and a police chief’s funeral. The latter ceremony I’d attended with my grandfather during his tenure as mayor of San Francisco during the Second World War, one of the many occasions on which, between the ages of seven and 11, I listened to him deliver an uplifting political speech.

                  Out of the loop within the walls of the chapel, I assumed that the headmaster’s sermon was a canvassing for votes, whether for or from God I didn’t know, but either way a call to arms, and as I had been taught to do when an admiral or a parks commissioner completed his remarks, I stood to attention with the tribute of firm and supportive applause. The appalled silence in the chapel was as cold as a winter in Milwaukee. The entire school turned to stare in disbelief, the headmaster nearly missed his step down from the pulpit, the boys to my left and right edged away, as if from a long-dead rat.

                  Never mind that my intention was civil, my response meant to show respect. During the next four years at school, I never gained admission to the company of the elect. I’d blotted my copybook, been marked down as an offensive humorist from the wrong side of the Hudson River.

                  In the troubled sea of the world’s ambition, men rise by gravity, sink by levity, and on my first Sunday in Connecticut I had placed myself too far below the salt to indulge the hope of an ascent to the high-minded end of the table -- not to be trusted with the singing of the school song, or with the laughing at people who didn’t belong to beach clubs on Long Island. The sense of being off the team accompanied me to Yale College (I never saw the Harvard game) and shaped my perspective as a young newspaper reporter in the 1950s.

                  A potentially free agent, not under contract to go along with the program -- able to find fault with an official press release, put an awkward question to a department-store mogul -- I was looked upon with suspicion by the wisdoms in office. The attitude I took for granted on the part of real-estate kingpins and ladies enshrined in boxes at the opera, but I didn’t recognize it as one adjustable to any and all occasions until the winter night in 1958 when the San Francisco chapter of Mensa International (a society composed of persons blessed with IQ test scores above the 98th percentile) staged a symposium meant to plumb to its utmost depths (intellectual, psychological, and physiological) the mystery of human gender.

                  Wine and cheese to be served, everybody to remove his or her clothes before being admitted to the discussion. Dispatched by the San Francisco Examiner to report on the event, I didn’t make it past the coatracks on which the seekers of the naked truth draped their fig leaves. But even with the embodiments of genius, Mensa wasn’t taking any chances. Confronted with a display of for the most part unlovely and decomposing flesh, the doorkeepers distributed identifying wrist bracelets, blue silk for boys, pink velvet for girls, one of each for gays, lesbians, and transsexuals. What was wonderful was the utter seriousness of the proceeding. Nobody laughed or risked the semblance of a smile; the company of the elect looked with proud disdain upon the fully clothed reporters standing around in unpolished shoes.

                  Chicolini Really Is an Idiot

                  Laughter follows from the misalignment of a reality and a virtual reality, and the getting of the joke is the recognition of which is which. The notions of what is true or beautiful or proper held sacred by the other people in the caucus or the clubhouse set up the punch line -- the sight of something where it’s not supposed to be, the story going where it’s not supposed to go, Groucho Marx saying, “Gentlemen, Chicolini here may talk like an idiot and look like an idiot, but don’t let that fool you. He really is an idiot.”

                  Groucho’s appeal is to the faculty named by Bergson as “intelligence, pure and simple,” and I laugh out loud for the reason given by Arthur Schopenhauer: “simply the sudden perception of the incongruity between a concept and the real object.”

                  Being in or out of the loop is not only a question of separations in space and time, it is also a matter of the distance between different sets or turns of mind. Sudden and happy perceptions of incongruity are not hard to come by in a society that worships its machines, regards the sales pitch and the self-promotion as its noblest forms of literary art. What Twain understood to be the world’s colossal humbug enjoys a high standing among people who define the worth of a thing as the price of a thing and therefore make of money, in and of itself a colossal humbug, the true and proper name for God.

                  “There are,” said Twain, “certain sweet-smelling, sugarcoated lies current in the world which all politic men have apparently tacitly conspired together to support and perpetuate… We are discreet sheep; we wait to see how the drove is going and then go with the drove. We have two opinions: one private, which we are afraid to express, and another one -- the one we use -- which we force ourselves to wear to please Mrs. Grundy.”

                  It is the Mrs. Grundy of the opinion polls from whom President Barack Obama begs the favor of a sunny smile, to whom the poets who write the nation’s advertising copy sing their songs of love, for whom the Aspen Institute sponsors summer and winter festivals of think-tank discussion to reawaken the American spirit and redecorate the front parlor of the American soul.

                  The exchanges of platitude at the higher altitudes of moral and social pretension Twain celebrated as festive occasions on which “taffy is being pulled.” Some of the best of it gets pulled at the Council on Foreign Relations in New York when it is being explained to a quorum of the monied elite (contented bankers, corporate lawyers, arms manufacturers) that American foreign policy, rightly understood, is a work of Christian charity and an expression of man’s goodwill to man.

                  Nobody pulls the taffy better than Dr. Henry Kissinger, the White House National Security Advisor in 1970 who by way of an early Christmas greeting that year to the needy poor in Cambodia secured the delivery of thousands of tons of high explosive, but as often at the council as I’ve heard him say that the nuclear option trumps the China card, that the lines in the Middle Eastern sand connect the Temple of Solomon to the Pentagon, that America under no circumstances is to be caught holding Neville Chamberlain’s umbrella, I seldom find the hint of a sign that the other gentlemen in the room know or care that Chicolini here really is an idiot. Even if the gentlemen had their doubts about Chicolini, where would be the percentage of letting them out of the bag? Chicolini is rich, and therefore Chicolini is wise. To think otherwise is an impiety; to say otherwise is a bad career move.

                  Mocking the Gilded Age

                  Twain was careful to mind his manners when speaking from lecture platforms to crowds of Mrs. Grundys in both the western and eastern states. He bottled his ferocious ridicule in the writing (much of it in newspapers) that he likened to “painted fire,” bent to the task of burning down with a torch of words the pestilent hospitality tents of self-glorifying cant. He had in mind the health of the society on which in 1873 he bestowed the honorific “The Gilded Age” in recognition of its great contributions to the technologies of selfishness and greed, a society making itself sick with the consumption of too many sugarcoated lies and one that he understood not to be a society at all but a state of war.

                  We have today a second Gilded Age more magnificent than the first, but our contemporary brigade of satirists doesn’t play with fire. The marketing directors who produce the commodity of humor for prime-time television aim to amuse the sheep, not shoot the elephants in the room. They prepare the sarcasm-lite in the form of freeze-dried sound bites meant to be dropped into boiling water at Gridiron dinners, Academy Award ceremonies, and Saturday Night Live. “There is a hell of a distance,” said Dorothy Parker, “between wisecracking and wit. Wit has truth in it.” George Bernard Shaw seconded the motion: “My way of joking is to tell the truth. It’s the funniest joke in the world.”

                  Twain didn’t expect or intend his satire to correct the conduct of Boss Tweed, improve the morals of Commodore Vanderbilt, or stop the same-day deliveries of Congress from Washington to the banks in New York. Nor did he exclude himself from the distinguished company of angry apes rolling around in the mud of their mortality. He knew himself made, like all other men, as “a poor, cheap, wormy thing... a sarcasm, the Creator’s prime miscarriage in inventions,” easily seduced by the “paltry materialisms and mean vanities” that made both himself and America great.

                  A man at play with the life of his mind overriding the decay of his matter, his laughter the digging himself out of the dung heap of moralizing cowardice that is the consequence of ingesting too much boardwalk taffy. His purpose is that of a physician attending to the liberties of the people shriveled by the ambitions of the state, his belief that it is the courage of a democracy’s dissenting citizens that defends their commonwealth against the despotism of a plutocracy backed up with platitudes, billy clubs, surveillance cameras, and subprime loans.

                  Which is why in times of trouble I reach for the saving grace of the nearby Twain. Laughter in all of its conjugations and declensions cannot help but breathe the air of freedom, and in the moment of delight and surprise that is my laughing out loud at his Extracts from Adam’s Diary or “To the Person Sitting in Darkness,” I escape, if only briefly, from the muck of my own ignorance, vanity, and fear, bind up the festering wound inflicted on the day I was born with the consolation of the philosophy named by Charlie Chaplin: “Life is a tragedy when seen in close-up, but a comedy in long shot.”

                  Lewis H. Lapham is editor of Lapham’s Quarterly and a TomDispatch regular. Formerly editor of Harper’s Magazine, he is the author of numerous books, including Money and Class in America, Theater of War, Gag Rule, and, most recently, Pretensions to Empire. The New York Times has likened him to H.L. Mencken; Vanity Fair has suggested a strong resemblance to Mark Twain; and Tom Wolfe has compared him to Montaigne. This essay, slightly adapted for TomDispatch, introduces "Comedy," the Winter 2014 issue of Lapham’s Quarterly, soon to be released at that website.

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