Cupcake and I went out to dinner the other evening because our home is in such disarray.  We decided to revamp the kitchen after almost twenty years of abuse. New countertops and avante-gard  counter outlets were definitely in order. Granite is beautiful but some of the newer composite products are far more elegant nowadays. Or so Cupcake insists. I’m told my taste is mostly in my mouth and will probably remain there for the rest of my natural born life. I’ll buy that.  Existing on c rations for two years is living proof of that truth.

With this kitchen do over came a critical examination of the color of the adjacent 5,000 square feet of paint. Married men, Veterans or not, can see where this was heading sans compass and map. To paraphrase the old Eagles tune, she’s headed for the remodel side of town.

At some point over dinner, Sig. other #2 asked in passing how much VA remunerates us for spousal dependency. That’s rather a misnomer. I think I’m dependent on her for most everything-including VA litigation. She owns and operates a thriving Real Estate company replete with a bunch of Agents and the income from it dwarfs my paltry monthly SMC S. And boy howdy does the cost of this remodel dwarf it, too.

So, I  apprised her of the most recent amount I recalled off the cuff.  The whole restaurant became quiet until her uncontrollable paroxysms of laughter subsided. About this time, I simultaneously realized we (male Vets who have successfully completed and filed a VAF 21-686(c)) are getting screwed. Hold on to your Alice packs and canteens, pilgrims. This is far uglier than any of us realized. Assuming arguendo that you are 100% or TDIU, your cupcake’s pittance is $208.40 per month. Subtracted from my actual monthly amount for SMC S means I – Grambo who hath borne the battle- get $4,183.85 per month versus her paltry two yards and chump change. VA calls this my Corvette allowance with a straight face. What in Sam Hill do they call her allowance?

Without delving too deeply into this obvious disparity, I’d ask my male readership how you can support any woman (even post-menopausal) on such a minuscule sum.  It must be another one of those anomalies of VA math. Shucks. Maybe they use those car mirrors that say “Objects in mirror appear larger than reality.” But that’s not the end of the matter.

Imagine a disabled Vet just starting down the path to service connection these days. Most are lucky just to get over the initial hump of the 30% roadblock to even get the marriage benefit. Hold on to your brain buckets, gentlemen. It’s a whopping $62 even per month. You can’t feed your dog for that much each month. If you want her to look better than your dog and sport a wrinkle-free forehead with plump, full lips, the Botox bill alone is going to flatass inhale that remaining $536.31 and then some. Throw in some finger nail polish with a side of Victoria’s Secret and you can said Sayonara to that Man Cave you were contemplating.

 So who’s in charge of figuring this magic dependency remuneration out? What bean counter down at the corner of Delay Ave. NW and NW Deny St. concocted this farce? Ostensibly, if you bothered to read §4.25(a) and managed to decipher the mathematical formula of deducting for the purported residual “efficiency” remaining of your disability(ies), you’d still be in a quandary as to how you-Johnny Johnny Pumpkin eater (with no deductions whatsoever) could possibly hope to keep Jane well- pumpkin shell or no pumpkin shell.

Should you wish to expand on this pumpkin shell argument, imagine how our 100% disabled, married with kids vegetarian Pumpkin eater can possibly feed, clothe and provide folding money for his horde of unappreciative rug rats at $152.62 per each. But wait. Because VA believes there is built-in economy of numbers, each additional child will only net him an additional $103.55. Based on this pie-in-the-sky VA economics model, Johnny’s gonna have to supersize these magical pumpkin shells for his brood. Either that or he’s gonna have to sign up for the Dave Del Dotto Cashflow System.

What concerns me is the blatant sexism afoot here. How can the cost to support a male child even begin to compare to that of a female child? Shouldn’t this be a two-tiered system? Or, if you wish to extrapolate further, how could this pittance even touch the costs for a gender-dysphoric child? Autistic? Severely disabled at birth? Need I expound further?

I’m not going to ‘poke the bear’ and explore Cupcake’s walk-in closet again. Been there. Done that (once). It didn’t turn out well. I’d venture a guess that Imelda Marcos’ legendary shoe collection doesn’t hold a candle to Cupcake’s. As for the rest of her ensembles, $208.40 per month wouldn’t make it past about 2.3 coat hangers. It turns out that you can’t be a real estate broker and sell houses unless you look successful. Apparently, that also entails smelling good-hence the need for Arpege. Gosh. Whatever happened to Patchouli oil and the bra-burning craze?

Suffice it to say, owning and operating a spouse-let alone kids- is far more expensive than VA ever imagined. Adding children to the mix only guarantees poverty that much sooner. And woe betideth Vets who have the misfortune to have kids at Columbia or Yale. At the $80 K per year it’s purported to cost to educate them on the long, complicated history of the Jews and the Palestinians, I don’t think Chapter 35 DEA benefits would even begin to touch the interest on it.

In closing, my only observation that makes sense is getting all of you SMC at the R2/T rate at a bare minimum. But even then, that can be dicey unless your wife is a Broker. The repair order is to contact your Congressman or Senator and call them out on the disparity of salaries. The only difference between them and us 100% disabled Vets is how much they feel Veterans deserve for their service. Apparently, being paralyzed from the neck up is far more disabling-even if you can still work. It’s called sheltered employment in DC.

In closing, I want to wish all of you a very happy 49th anniversary of Cinco de Siete this year. Get ready to break out the Yellow ribbons. Next year is the Big 50. I can’t wait for the big Welcome Home parades. And that’s all I’m gonna say about that.