As an illegal alien who came here to loot and plunder, I’d like to file a formal complaint with the Department of Looting, because eleven years in, I have yet to receive any loot. Let me walk you through my plunder. I roof houses in Austin. In August. A black-shingle roof at 3 p.m. is the closest a living man can get to the surface of Mercury without a NASA budget, which, incidentally, I also help pay for. My plunder arrives every other Friday, minus federal withholding, minus Social Security, minus Medicare. I did an inventory of everything I’ve looted from the American taxpayer: one Honda Odyssey with 214,000 miles and a check-engine light that has been on longer than I’ve been in the country, a tool belt, a back that sounds like bubble wrap, and a daughter who is a U.S. citizen. That’s the haul. Al Capone would be ashamed of me. Here’s how my criminal enterprise works. The number on my W-2 doesn’t match anything in Baltimore, so my Social Security taxes go into the Earnings Suspense File. I think of it as my 401(k), except the k stands for “kept.” My money goes in, my name never comes out, and the cash pays the retirement of my neighbor Dale. Dale and I are both middle-class taxpayers. The difference is that someday Dale will get a check, and I will get a letter. In 2022, people like me put about $26 billion into Social Security and $6 billion into Medicare, programs we can’t touch. If that’s fraud, it’s the first scam in history where the con man Venmos the mark. I can’t get SNAP. I never could. I’ve been trying to commit welfare fraud for over a decade, and the system rejects me on page one. My cousin came the legal way, as a refugee, with a file so thick it has its own zip code, and last year Congress took his food stamps to fight fraud. The fraud was him eating. He’s now on what I call the Freedom Diet: three jobs, zero lunches. My daughter was born in Austin in 2025. She’s fifteen months old, eats exclusively shredded cheese, and is as American as a brisket line at 6 a.m. Congress gave every newborn citizen $1,000 in a Trump Account, unless a parent lacks a valid Social Security number, so her first investment portfolio got stopped at the border of her own crib. Same with the child tax credit. A one-year-old is being sanctioned for her father’s paperwork. She can’t say “Dada” yet, but she’s already learned “inadmissible.” Meanwhile, I pay sales tax on every diaper and property tax baked into my rent. In 40 of 50 states, people like me pay a higher state and local tax rate than the top 1 percent. Somewhere in Westlake, a man with a family office pays a smaller share than the guy who shingled his pool house. That man has a guy who handles his taxes. So do I. Mine carries a rifle. That’s because last year I filed honestly, with my ITIN, on time, like the world’s most incompetent plunderer, and the IRS thanked me by passing my file to ICE. A federal court later ruled the arrangement violated privacy law. As far as I know, I’m the only taxpayer in America who gets a home visit for filing early. So I tried to report myself. I called the fraud hotline and said, “I’m the scammer Stephen was talking about, please come take your money back.” I was on hold for four hours. They transferred me to Medicare, which I fund and can’t use. The hold music was a recording thanking me for my contribution. Here’s my final audit. I pay in and can’t take out. My kid gets docked for my sins, my refugee cousin gets put on a diet for his paperwork, my tax return doubles as an ankle monitor, and every April I fund the retirement of the man on TV calling me a parasite. If this is looting, I want to speak to the manager of looting. I’ve been informed the manager is unavailable, currently live on cable news, and that my complaint has been forwarded to ICE. Please hold. Your plunder is important to us.