About Better Than Taxes

Post 1144:

            We’ve made it through the holidays and winter and Valentine’s Day. Everybody take a breath and pat yourself on the part of your back you can reach. Great job. Your work is done. It’s time for recumbency. Let idleness and indolence and torpidity reign.

Never mind. It’s coming up on tax time. Bummer. Mega bummer. It’s not just the paying that bothers me. The need for punctiliousness, looking up and down spreadsheets and making notes so you don’t get sent to jail with one of those black bags over your head.

            How come the only two things that are sure in life stink? Death and taxes? Why was the guy that made up all these wisdoms such a stick in the mud? Thanks for the kick to the nuts, guy.

            These are the important things that keep me up at night.

            Also, doing my taxes. It gets me wired, afraid, skittish. But there’s two good things about paying taxes. They remind you that pretty much everything in life is more fun and edifying than paying taxes. It also means you made some money. Also, you don’t have to do it for another year.

            So when you’re at the dentist and they tell you it’s time for a root canal even though you can’t feel anything and it seems like you’re being swindled, think taxes. And when your spouse takes the good car out and drives it thirty miles before realizing the parking brake is on—you guessed it, taxes.

            The point is, and I try to live by this code: It can always get worse.

            Unless you get audited. Then, I’m afraid there’s little to no hope. Join a convent in the hinterlands and renounce solid food and Netflix.

            Hey. Enjoy yourself. It’s not so bad.

            And for a trip to one of my motivational speaking conventions, they’re only 12,000 dollars per person. It’s a really good experience. Worth every penny. And I’ve got to square up with the IRS.

            Cheers and see you after.