Good Morning Friends of Quantum,
Well the other shoe finally dropped. I got a letter from the I.R.S. typically this is never good news, and had no reason to believe it was a refund. My personal feud with these harbingers of misery started 15 years ago when they refused to accept some very legitimate deductions. In subsequent negotiations, I became increasingly pissed by the condescending attitude of these fat, pencil-necked geeks. Three years later my debt had quadrupled thanks to penalty and interest charges 7 points higher than most loan sharks will gouge you for.
This acrimonious relationship has contributed heavily to my agnostic beliefs today. A mere 15 years ago, I was a devout man of faith, and could think of nothing that would shake it.
I stand before you now a broken man. I literally prayed day and night for the earth to open up and swallow this collection of corpulent, indecorous, pompous bureaucrats, but to no avail. I can see it’s never going to happen. My faith is shattered. It’s not that I’m opposed to paying my share, it’s the additional 12% I must pay because I’m an independent contractor. This is outrageous! It seems arbitrary and a heavy burden for an individual to bear. If anyone knows why, please explain it to me. I’ve heard various explanations, none of which are satisfactory.
I read a joke I’d like to pass along:
An old preacher
An old preacher was dying. He sent a message for his IRS agent and his Lawyer (both church members) to come to his home. When they arrived, they were ushered up to his bedroom. As they entered the room, the preacher held out his hands and motioned for them to sit on each side of the bed. The preacher grasped their hands, sighed contentedly, smiled and stared at the ceiling. For a time, no one said anything.
Both the IRS agent and Lawyer were touched and flattered that the old preacher would ask them to be with him during his final moment. They were also puzzled because the preacher had never given any indication that he particularly liked either one of them.
Finally, the Lawyer asked, “Preacher, why did you ask the two of us to come?”
The old preacher mustered up some strength, then said weakly, “Jesus died between two thieves, and that’s how I want to go, too.”
I must leave you now, gird up my loins, and prepare for battle. Please, if no one sees or hears from me in three days; please notify my children and tell them their Father has always meant well. Jeez.