video: No Tax on Tips is a SIN — 100% in FAVOR!

So, this “no tax on tips” idea—oh, I’m all in, baby, because anything that screws the government out of a few bucks is my kind of party. Starve Uncle Sam ‘til he’s eating ramen out of a Styrofoam cup, crying about his “infrastructure budget” I say.

But let’s not kid ourselves—this whole tipping culture is a clown show, a moral dumpster fire, and it’s dragging society into a glitter-dusted pit of sin and stupidity.

Picture this: you’re at a bar, slamming back shots of tequila that taste like regret and bad decisions. You toss a twenty to the bartender, and what are you really paying for? “Hey, buddy, look the other way while I drown my soul in this bottle of Jose Cuervo!” It’s a bribe! You’re not tipping for service; you’re tipping for them to ignore your descent into debauchery.

Same deal at the casino. You’re sliding chips to the blackjack dealer like, “Here’s a little something for dealing me that king and ace, wink-wink, keep the good cards coming, and don’t judge me while I blow my kid’s college fund!” It’s hush money for your sins, people!

And don’t get me started on waiters. You’re at some fancy joint, stuffing your face with a dessert that’s basically diabetes in a $40 ramekin—chocolate lava cake with a side of heart disease—and you’re like, “Here’s a couple hundred bucks, thanks for enabling my gluttony!”
Or the masseuse—oh, don’t act innocent! You’re tipping extra, and we all know why. “Just touch the tip, sweetheart, make it quick!” It’s a transaction for a little extra sin, and you’re paying them to keep their mouth shut while you waddle out, smelling like lavender and shame.

But you know who’s out here getting ZERO tips? The real heroes holding this crumbling society together. Your roofer! That poor bastard’s up on your house in 100-degree heat, breathing tar fumes that’ll give him cancer by next Tuesday, laying down shingles so you don’t drown in your living room during a rainstorm. Does he get a tip? Hell no! You’re like, “Here’s your check, now get off my lawn before you track asphalt on it!” Meanwhile, the cocktail waitress in a mini-skirt who handed you a $15 mojito is swimming in tax-free cash because she smiled at you while you ogled her cleavage.

And teachers! Don’t even get me started on teachers. These saints are out here trying to teach your feral kids how to read while dodging spitballs and TikTok challenges. They’re on a fixed government contract, making pennies, and you think they’re getting a tip? Nope! But that 22-year-old blonde at Morton’s Steakhouse, slinging $200 ribeyes to hedge fund bros? She’s raking in three times their salary now, tax-free, because she batted her eyelashes and said, “How’s the steak, hon?” It’s obscene! Teachers are out here molding the future, and they’re getting paid less than the Uber Eats guy who yeeted your burrito at your doorstep and peeled out like he’s in a Fast & Furious sequel.

And here’s the kicker: this “no tax on tips” thing is gonna turn every job into a hustle. Your plumber’s gonna be like, “Hey, I fixed your pipes for $100, but, uh, you can tip me the other $400, right?” It’s a dystopian shakedown! We’re incentivizing the wrong people, folks. Bartenders, dealers, waitresses—these are the sin merchants, the enablers of our worst impulses, and we’re stuffing their pockets with tax-free cash. Meanwhile, the welders, the electricians, the guys keeping the lights on and the bridges from collapsing—they’re still writing checks to Uncle Sam, who’s probably spending it on a new drone to spy on your backyard barbecue.

This is a bad set of incentives, people! We’re building a society where the only way to get ahead is to sling booze, deal cards, or deliver DoorDash tacos at 2 a.m. The skilled laborers, the teachers, the roofers—they’re getting screwed while the sin peddlers are living like kings. And you know what’s gonna happen? We’re all gonna end up in a matrix, plugged into some AI overlord who’s like, “Don’t worry, I’ll fix your roof, teach your kids, and weld your bridges, because you idiots are too busy tipping your OnlyFans model for a personalized wink!” We’re one step away from downloading our brains into a simulation where the only job left is “professional vibe curator” at a vape lounge.

So, yeah, no tax on tips? I’m here for it. Screw the government. But let’s not pretend this isn’t a one-way ticket to a society where the only people thriving are the ones serving you sin on a silver platter while the real workers are sweating, broke, and begging for a crumb of respect. Wake up, people—this ain’t a cohesive society; it’s a circus, and we’re all clowns!