Private Luxury Submarines. Not a joke. Not April 1st. They are real and sneak under the sea by the hundred. Captain Nemo invented the Private Luxury Submarine, and was the first wealthy evil megalomaniac genius on which Dr. No, Ernst Stavro Blofeld, Dr Evil, and all other super villains were modeled.
Now we've got 'em for real.
I would say buying a private luxury submarine is god's way of weeding you out of the gene pool, but most billionaires are past the age of reproduction. Peasants have fish finder sonar technology, boats and access to home made depth charges in the form of reservation fireworks. We could re-enact the Battle of the North Atlantic right here in Puget Sound, with the state ferries playing the convoys and pleasure boats for the escort destroyers. Paul Allen and his sub get to be the German U-Boat threat.
Submarines have traditionally been death traps, not far behind helicopters. If everyone knew what mechanical process had to happen in a specific order to keep a helicopter in the air, nobody in their right mind would ride in one except as an emergency or time of war. One little ring clip cracks, and some poor fireman is going to have to drag your crispy corpse out of the wreckage of that plaything. At least when a gasket fails, chances are nobody will ever find your Private Luxury Submarine.
I submit that the very existence of the Private Luxury Submarine is irrefutable evidence that the top tax rates are far too low. Down Periscope! Brace for marginal rate charges! Open outer torpedo tube doors! Man the CPAs!
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