Wesley Snipes is due to get out of prison this year, everybody! Soon action thrillers will be awesome again—he’s already signed on for The Expendables 3, Wikipedia would have us believe. But while one of the best blockbuster martial-arts actors of all time has learned his lesson about defrauding the IRS, you think you can still pull it off. That’s deterrence in action.
Yes, it’s the turn of February, so start panicking about remembering your TurboTax password. Or, you know, get a real accountant. You can probably pay him or her with the extra refund money you get as a result of not giving yourself a crash course in middle school math. Otherwise, you should have asked to be paid in cash, under the table, behind an abandoned factory, in Mexico.
Oh god. These jokes can’t keep the terror at bay: TAXES. You will have to get them done, somehow, though really how bad can it get if you don’t? There’s a good chance somebody already stole your Social Security number and filed. So that’s that taken care of. Now all you have to worry about is the Cayman Island account. Opening one, that is.
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You have no idea how good it feels to write that headline with no sarcasm whatsoever. I truly still can’t believe it. But after nine months or so of fighting with this country’s beloved central tax authority over who stole whose identity, the IRS has given birth to my healthy, couple-thousand-dollar refund check. And because it came so late, they added $47.34 in interest.
How on earth are they so on top of their shit all of a sudden! I mean, what’s next? A balanced federal budget? Internships with full benefits? American Apparels that let you return underwear without a receipt? There’s a good chance I fell through a rift in space-time to a dimension where money is not a constant source of stress and misery. Why else would a government toss me nearly $50 that I didn’t think I had coming?
Yep, I live in a perfect world now. No need to such a misanthropic critic of all I see and experience. On that score, I should probably announce my retirement from the blogging industry. There’s nowhere else to go from here. It’s been fun, y’all, but eventually you just run out of stuff to complain about. Hey, maybe I could complain about that…
At last, our long and nightmarish ordeal has come to an end. A certain bustling hive of good old American bureaucracy switched their hold music from nondescript, gooey piano muzak to something a bit more refined. Yes, you’ll notice some big changes around the IRS these days—if you’re still calling about the tax refund you were supposed to get nine months ago, that is.
The orchestral shift is stunning and unprecedented, especially for an organization that likes to talk about how bogged down it is in all the identity frauds this year. When did they get the time to plug new music into the phone system? I thought they were working round the clock on my case, to see it resolved as quickly as humanly possible! Oh well, I’m sure this Tchaikovsky is helping.
Wait a minute. Tchaikovsky? Is this—crap! This is The Nutcracker! Christmas music! You vile fiends! You damn maniacs, you blew it up! GODDAMN YOU ALL TO HELL. You’ll never get away with this, G-men. You hear me? You’ll have to kill me and bury me with a stereo before I’ll listen to holiday favorites. I’ll just have to get my $2,000 some other way. Like … crime.
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