I think today was one of our lazier days, with breakfast at 8 o'clock. We ate at the hotel, as always. This was our nicest hotel, but we weren't crazy about the experience.

At 3 in the morning (I had only been asleep a couple hours), the fire alarm went off and was ringing for a long time. I was so tired that I was panicking and couldn't believe how slow I was to evacuate the room because I needed to not just get dressed, but also put in my contacts. The alarm went off when I was almost done dressing, but Ric says that we're always supposed to evacuate no matter what, so we went down to the lobby using the stairs. We got down there and were told it was a false alarm. Great. Now that I've had a heart attack due to how loud that siren was, I'm supposed to go to sleep again? It took me an hour to fall asleep, and it took Ric two or more. So we were pretty sleepy even though we got to sleep in.

At breakfast, everyone kept taking up all the eggs and toast, and I don't think there were any cornflakes, so I ate a couple of croissants and tried to be watchful for toast. We were carb machines on that trip. Anyway, we took off and headed into Dublin, which is a pretty city. One thing that stood out was the increase in colorful doors:

We picked up a local guide who had us drive around town while she told us all about the area, from Irish jokes to where James Joyce lived to which building was owned by Bono and the Edge. We also heard all about Guinness. Guinness is more of a part of Dublin than I had realized. Not only do the Irish drink half of its product, but they also benefited from the Guinness family, who spent a lot of money on Dublin's structures. Here's a common sight from the bus:

Dublin has a very large park called Phoenix Park running through the middle of the city, and once inside, it's hard to imagine the bustle that's going on outside. Inside the park are homes for the President of Ireland and the U.S. Ambassador (because the U.S. was one of the first to recognize the Republic as an independent country), a large monument to the Duke of Wellington, and the Zoological Gardens. The President's home bears a striking resemblance to the White House, because it was made by the same architect. I wasn't able to get a photo. Here is one of the more impressive structures in the park, the Papal Cross, which we got to stretch our legs to see:

After we had made our way all around the city (actually, the more I think about it, I think I might like to go back and explore this city one day), we dropped off the people who didn't want to go to Glendalough and took off to the mountains outside Dublin in Wicklow county. It was a very scenic drive, and on it, our tour guide told us the depressing stories of the loss of Ireland's innocence, with the scandals in politics and in the church that have happened in its more recent history. She did at least lighten the mood with a few more jokes about an Irishman and his wife.

We arrived to Wicklow county to visit the monastic site of Glendalough, which was once an important place of pilgrimage long ago. Now there are only remnants, which are set amid some of the most beautiful country I've seen. Our guide told us about the site and led us through various structures, and then we were set free to roam for a while. We instantly headed for the lake:

The walk to the lake was beautiful. There were trees covered in moss, trees with bark that looked like silver, and flowing grass and streams and rivers. It's the kind of stuff Tolkien would best praise. I made sure to snag a couple of rocks from the shores of the lake for me and my dad. We explored with the Canadian girls and took a lot of photos with each other. I just couldn't get over how beautiful it was out there, and unfortunately, photos can't even show it all properly. Here's one of Ric and me with the Glendalough lookout tower behind us:

We wandered as long as we could. I tramped through mud and tall grass, admired rocks and moss, and wished I could have stayed for an entire vacation there. Here's a shot of some of the graves:

Finally, we had to leave, although we did so incredibly reluctantly. Back in the bus we went, and at least we had a wonderful day of weather to admire:

We got back to Dublin in the early afternoon and were dropped off to roam around for a while. Ric and I had lunch at the Blarney Inn, a place with a lot of friendly service and a sign that says "If you are grouchy or just plain mean, there will be a E10 charge for putting up with you." I had fresh mussels from the Irish coast and Ric had fish and chips. It was a gooood meal. We then wandered along Nassau street and looked for souvenirs and interesting places to see that were close to our stop (we forgot to bring our map with us from the bus). Ric bought some Irish pub song music from a nearby shop, and I got a few trinkets from a Kilkenny department store. The hustle and bustle of the city was a bit much for a tired Ric, so we headed over to Trinity College to relax. We sat on a bench facing a field and watched the college life for a while until it was time to go.

Back at the hotel, we were on our own for the night, but unfortunately, we had been so tired out from everything that we both fell asleep for a few hours and woke up around 9 or 10 at night. We went downstairs to check and see when we needed to be up the next morning, then headed back up, got ready for bed, and hit the sheets. Pathetic, I know.

The most liberal member of the Senate.
The most liberal person to ever run for president.

Conservatives love to roll out the superlatives when discussing Democratic candidates. I have also heard the absolute claims that no president has ever raised taxes during a war or during a time of economic crisis.

When I was commenting on my conservative friend* Melanie's post the other day I decided to do a little fact-checking on myself and found a table of tax rates going back to 1913. Here are the tax rates that the wealthiest Americans were required to pay during a few key years:

1929 (the year the stock market crashed): 24%
1932-1935 (during the Great Depression): 63%
1941 (the year America entered WWII): 81%
1944-1945 (the end of WWII): 94%
1952-1953 (post-war economic prosperity): 92%
1982-1986 (Reagan administration): 50%

Some of these figures may be a little surprising. I still have a hard time believing that there was a 94% tax rate on the wealthiest Americans during wartime. Surely anybody alive today would call that the worst kind of Socialism.

I'm also surprised to see how high the top tax rate was during most of Reagan's presidency. It wasn't until 1987, the very end of his time in office, that taxes were lowered to a rate more comparable to what it is now.

So what can we take away from this? For one thing, Franklin D. Roosevelt, the man your grandma voted for in four different elections, was ten times the Socialist that Barack Obama will ever be.

Second, if somebody were to actually attempt the largest tax increase in history they would have to contend with that 38% hike from 1931 to 1932.

Third, the period of history that had the highest tax rates on the wealthy coincided with a time of such tremendous economic prosperity that it is considered a golden era of American capitalism. So much for taxes on the wealthy suppressing growth.

Barack Obama wants to raise the top tax rate back to 39.6% (what it was in 2000) and cut taxes on everyone making less than $250,000 per year. What exactly is so frightening about that?

* P.S. I call Melanie my conservative friend not because she is the only conservative I know, but because she is one of the most thoughtful and well-informed conservatives I know, and that she is very good at challenging all of my views on the issues.