The Public Eye

printed 04/05/2019

I had my income taxes reformed this week and I want to thank all my friends in Congress for allowing me to — strike that — obligating me to remain a working member of the middle class.

Under other circumstances, I might have gotten into trouble by — I don’t know — retiring on my accumulated wealth? Or, maybe just having some extra money to do things I’ll be sorry for later, which is always fun, at the moment anyway.

But no. My friends in Congress decided they were going to give a tax break to everyone but me, as it has become painfully apparent that I alone have been selected to cover the national debt.

“Mr. Speaker, I propose that we reduce taxes for everyone except for this one guy who just the other day said we are, and I quote, ‘as useless as half a scissors and as functional as a storm drain in Death Valley.’”

“Here-here! We’ll show him! All in favor … Aye-yi-yi!”

For the record, I don’t recall saying any of those things, although I might have referred to a member of congress once as a political tapeworm, but I was just kidding. Really, I was.

Nevertheless, getting my reformed tax bill this year was like going in for what you think will be a routine checkup until the doctor picks up a fence post and says, “and now for the uncomfortable part.”

Part of the problem, of course, was my own fault, because I never take out enough withholding.

I figure why loan the government my money before I owe it if they aren’t going to pay me interest? If I’m late, they charge me interest, so it’s only fair if it works both ways.

But, as I say, that was just one aspect of this financial hernia. The rest was all the shaking and baking of tax reform that, to continue the metaphor, put me right on the burnt edges of the IRS’s cash call casserole.

The fact is, I usually don’t mind paying taxes as much as most people. It beats me why I’m not bothered like so many others, but even if the government were to declare that I don’t have to pay for things I don’t approve of, I doubt the extra income would cover an extended pursuit of things I’ll be sorry for later.

“Good news! They have ended the California Prostitutes Education Project (and here I thought prostitutes were in the business of educating others). Who wants to go out and splurge this savings on an extra pack of gum?”

Sure, everyone can find all sorts of things they believe their tax money is wasted on, but I’m saying they no longer have to worry about that because, apparently, I have it covered.

In the meantime, I had no intention of retiring anyway, because I can’t afford to buy another house, which is where I would be spending a significant amount of time, having been informed that pestering and being generally annoying aren’t considered acceptable hobbies.

So, I’ll just keep working and paying off the national debt. How those tapeworms ran it up to $21 trillion is beyond me.

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