The Tax Man Cometh

Well, it’s that time of year again: The time when I make up children, donate non-existent funds to fictional charities, and declare myself a blind, Nicaraguan orphan. This is done for “tax purposes”, which is another way of saying that I plan to defraud the IRS out of at least $72,000.

For the benefit of those of you who happen to be auditors for the I.R.S., I’m engaging in something us earthlings like to refer to as “humor”. I know it’s a foreign concept, but trust me when I say that my return will be 100% accurate. I always tell the truth on my taxes because our government is funded by tax revenue, and I feel a patriotic duty to not get ass raped in a federal penitentiary. I have a feeling that tax evaders suffer quite a bit in prison. When a mass murderer who has been lifting weights for fifteen years asks you what you did to deserve a stay in Leavenworth, it’s hard to garner respect and fear when your answer is “I didn’t fill out my taxes honestly.”

So I always pay my taxes, even if I have a problem with how they’re spent. If you’ve watched the news at all over the last thirty years, you’d know that 95% of your tax dollars are spent on investigations of a sexual nature. At any given time, half of the Congressmen and Senators are trying to determine who or what the rest of the Congressmen and Senators are fucking. And those investigations are expensive. You need to gather all the participants, grill them on their sexual past, have a cigarette afterwards, replace the hand lotion, etc. You’d get much the same results if you just gave the money to a bunch of eighth graders, with the sole exception being that the eighth graders would be more mature about it.

WAY more mature.

I’d much rather the United States government spend my money on other, more worthwhile things:

• Make everyone really fear the United States by acting very, very irrationally. In two words: Invade Canada. The US would gain better beer, better hockey players, and everyone’s always talking about how wonderful the “free” Canadian health care system is, so we can take that too. And much like you leave the hulking psychotic on the street alone out of fear for your personal safety, no one would fuck with the US if we acted that stupidly. (This is known as the Dubya Doctrine.)
• Mandatory hygiene classes for all US residents. I live not too far away from the site of the yearly Renaissance Festival, and I can tell you one thing about the medieval “actors”: The only thing authentic about them is their total lack of basic hygiene. Even the “comely lasses” are guilty of this. I don’t think you qualify as “comely”, actually, when your B.O. has killed my dog from 30 yards away.
• Reality TV is popular. So is the movie The Hunger Games. I say we combine them both. Anyone who participates in a reality TV series of any sort will go head to head in a remote area of Nevada desert. We can install high-definition cameras everywhere, and beam footage of the contestants straight into our homes where we will sit and enjoy the spectacle as we drop a 50 megaton nuclear weapon right on their fucking heads. Survive that, assholes. You have been voted out of existence.
  

  "A note for our viewers: Normally, a nuclear blast would be brilliant white. The orange-colored explosion you are seeing can be attributed to the presence of the cast of Jersey Shore."

• A new class of traffic ticket called Class M will be created to punish drivers who drive like morons. When you get a Class M ticket, you lose your license until you retake and pass the driver’s license exam. Class M violations will include driving slowly in the left hand lane, leaving a turn signal on for more than 10 miles, and not turning right on red because you’re too much of a fucking ignoramus to know that this has been a law for over thirty years. If you get three Class M tickets over the course of your lifetime, you lose your license permanently and have to get a large, scarlet M tattooed on your forehead.
• Golfers or any other people who wear slacks bright enough to blind bees will be hereby confined to Florida.
• A large grant shall be made to the robotics industry for the development of personal robots to prepare and serve Gin & Tonics. These robots shall be assigned a butler-like name (Jeeves, for instance) and be prepared to withstand caustic verbal abuse with dry wit and grace. Also, they will be programmed to take the rap for any murders committed under the influence of alcohol.
• Science will get a large grant to come up with time travel and teleporters in the next twenty years. If science hasn’t invented those things by then, well then fuck you science, you are no good to us.
• Along a similar vein, all religions must produce concrete proof of their supreme being or lose their tax-exempt status. The Almighty is hereby instructed to show up at Internal Revenue Service headquarters, room 324 with the appropriate form (Form 1077-a, Certificate Attesting Supernatural Abilities) and be prepared to prove their claim by converting loaves to fishes, water to wine, or television news anchors to intelligent people.
  

  Man, I HATE filling out these forms! I mean, I guess I am technically a dependent but... Wait a minute... Is dad a not-for profit deity? AAAUUUGGGHHH!

• Change the tax code so that it can be comprehended by human beings with an IQ less than seven trillion. Seriously, I just got done with my taxes, and at no point did I ever say, “Well, that makes sense!” This is because the tax code is written by tax lawyers who will be unemployed if you can understand the tax code. So much better for them to link your tax bracket to your shoe size, the price of lima bean futures, and a number that I.R.S. Special Agent Vinny is thinking of.

I’m not asking for a lot, really. The Feds can even get on the payment plan with me, giving me these things one at a time. But they’ll have to start by invading Canada as a show of good will, and I will be keeping an eye on them even if I am a blind Nicaraguan orphan.