Private Equity Tax Hike: Not Dead Yet!

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Stephen Schwarzman sits in front of the breakfast table.
It's not just any breakfast table. It's the most important breakfast table in the world. It was built for John F. Kennedy by an Italian marble worker who died mysteriously during the cold war. Kennedy never ate at the table, however. He was assassinated too early. Later it was acquired by Nancy Reagan for her husband, the former President. But he also died before he could eat breakfast at the table.
It made Schwarzman happy to know that among these powerful men, only he had eaten at the table. He. Stephen Schwarzman of Philadelpha, the man who had come from nothing and become something. No, not "something." Who had become everything. And not "become" but made himself. The man who had made himself into everything.
A servant silently glides across the polished floors of the most important breakfast nook in the world. A moment of irritation passes across Schwarzman's face. He has barely touched his crab salad. There is at least $320 worth of crab still on the plate. There is also kiwi, and grapefruit and a spice from Thailand that is unavailable in the United States. It was a gift from the third most powerful man in China. If this servant touches his plate, Schwarzman will fire him. Why are they always touching his plate before he is finished?
The servant isn't here for the crab. He is carrying a phone on a silver plate. He doesn't say a word. Schwarzman lifts the phone, flicks it open. He makes a mental note to fire whoever is calling during his breakfast.
"You're reading that story in the Journal about winning another year to fight the private equity tax, right?" the voice of his chief lobbyist does not sound as happy as it should. Schwarzman was reading that story. "Look. Forget it. Although Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid has declared the private equity tax hike dead in the Senate, there's still a chance that an even harsher tax hike could work its way into a bill to reform the alternative minimum tax."
Schwarzman chews a bit of crab but doesn't say anything.
"Do you have the New York Post?" the lobbyist asks.
"Who the fuck do you think you are talking to?" Schwarzman says, tiny bits of crab escaping from his lips.
"Here's the deal. The house proposal raises the tax on carried interest to 38 percent. The Senate will have a lot of political pressure to act on this AMT patch and a carried interest bill could be one palatable way to offset the revenue hole they need to fill. We can still probably get rid of this thing. But the house is harder to fix. So many more of the buggers. We'll have to spread the love around a bit," the lobbyist says.
Schwarzman coughs. He hangs up the phone and puts it on the plate. Looking back at the crab, he quickly calculates what 38% of the government's take of his breakfast would be. Then he eats that portion in one forkful. For a moment his mind flashes back to the family store in Philadelphia, to his job folding towels. They would like that, those Democrats. They would like to see him back in Phildelphia, folding fucking towels, he thinks.
The servant turns quickly and walks across the room. There's a slight squeaking noise as his soft, rubber soled sneakers hit the the floors. Schwarzman makes a mental note to fire him.
Law Still Might Be Taxing for The Rich [New York Post]

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