Investors who don’t have enough money put away yet for retirement... . and are over age 50..... are taking advantage of a little-known strategy that could change their lives. [Logo ]( [[icon]About Us]( [Logo](
Collect Up To $5,000 Per Month Tax-Free
[Book]( Investors who don’t have enough money put away yet for retirement... ... and are over age 50... ... are taking advantage of a little-known strategy that could change their lives.
There is a way smart investors can collect [thousands of dollars per month]( for the rest of their lives — tax-free. Incredible as it sounds, they can get a check or wire transfer weekly or monthly... And not pay a single dime in taxes on them. Plus, this tax-free income source is 100% legal and approved by the IRS. Yet even most wealthy people don’t know about it. But the few who do know are laughing all the way to the bank...
How to Create a Second Income in Retirement
Most sources of income, including retirement income, require Americans to pay up to 46.5% of what they earn, or more, in federal and state income taxes. That’s also true of withdrawals from a 401(k), IRA, SEP, or a traditional pension. That’s a major shock to many new retirees. When retirees are struggling to pay bills in retirement, that’s a HUGE bite. Yet what I’m talking about is different. One billionaire used [this “loophole” in the tax code]( to virtually eliminate income taxes from his life. Now he can collect $10 million a month, if he wishes, and the IRS can’t touch a penny of it. In fact, it’s forbidden for them to touch it. I know it sounds incredible, but it’s 100% legitimate. To find out more, [click here now.]( [Click Here to Find Out More >](
For a better retirement,
[Signature]
Bob Carlson
Editor, Retirement Watch Dorian Gray glanced at the picture, and suddenly an uncontrollable feeling of hatred for Basil Hallward came over him, as though it had been suggested to him by the image on the canvas, whispered into his ear by those grinning lips. The mad passions of a hunted animal stirred within him, and he loathed the man who was seated at the table, more than in his whole life he had ever loathed anything. He glanced wildly around. Something glimmered on the top of the painted chest that faced him. His eye fell on it. He knew what it was. It was a knife that he had brought up, some days before, to cut a piece of cord, and had forgotten to take away with him. He moved slowly towards it, passing Hallward as he did so. As soon as he got behind him, he seized it and turned round. Hallward stirred in his chair as if he was going to rise. He rushed at him and dug the knife into the great vein that is behind the ear, crushing the man’s head down on the table and stabbing again and again. There was a stifled groan and the horrible sound of some one choking with blood. Three times the outstretched arms shot up convulsively, waving grotesque, stiff-fingered hands in the air. He stabbed him twice more, but the man did not move. Something began to trickle on the floor. He waited for a moment, still pressing the head down. Then he threw the knife on the table, and listened. He could hear nothing, but the drip, drip on the threadbare carpet. He opened the door and went out on the landing. The house was absolutely quiet. No one was about. For a few seconds he stood bending over the balustrade and peering down into the black seething well of darkness. Then he took out the key and returned to the room, locking himself in as he did so. The thing was still seated in the chair, straining over the table with bowed head, and humped back, and long fantastic arms. Had it not been for the red jagged tear in the neck and the clotted black pool that was slowly widening on the table, one would have said that the man was simply asleep. How quickly it had all been done! He felt strangely calm, and walking over to the window, opened it and stepped out on the balcony. The wind had blown the fog away, and the sky was like a monstrous peacock’s tail, starred with myriads of golden eyes. He looked down and saw the policeman going his rounds and flashing the long beam of his lantern on the doors of the silent houses. The crimson spot of a prowling hansom gleamed at the corner and then vanished. A woman in a fluttering shawl was creeping slowly by the railings, staggering as she went. Now and then she stopped and peered back. Once, she began to sing in a hoarse voice. The policeman strolled over and said something to her. She stumbled away, laughing. A bitter blast swept across the square. The gas-lamps flickered and became blue, and the leafless trees shook their black iron branches to and fro. He shivered and went back, closing the window behind him.
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