Small Town News

Income taxes are an annoying problem for women

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AROUND TOWN

There is a bad moon rising, as the Credence Clearwater Revival song tells us. For April, it is the Internal Revenue Service. Most people have already starterd the process of preparing to pay their federal and state income taxes.

I'm mainly referring to a small sect, who live in places like Yucca Flats, Nev. and keep a large stash of freeze dried military food in their basements in case of an outbreak of dung fever. For the rest of us, it is put off or put up.

I can't really understand the Internal Revenue Service being in my life anyway. I don't like internals, I have no revenue and the last time I had decent service anywhere was when women were still wearing panty hose.

For some reason, income taxes are an annoying problem for women. It's like unwanted hair growth; one day you look in the mirror and realize, in the right light, you could try out for the bearded lady in the circus.

Now my idea of high finances, and I'm sure this is true for a lot of women, is knowing the exact location of the nearest ATM machine. .

Using an ATM machine is a relatively simple task. You drive to this machine every day, sometimes three or four times a day. The machine is not like a husband. It doesn't mind how many times a day you ask for money. In fact, it likes it when you ask for money, sometimes giving you a treat like a small doggie bone.

It doesn't shake receipts in your face and demand to know why there is an amount equal to the price of a house, in Peru on your VISA credit card. It's never that crass.

Anyway, you put this card into a slot in the ATM machine. The machine asks you what you want, like a genie granting your every wish.

You type in the amount and voila, money comes out the opening. In fact this machine is so adorable and well mannered, it will even ask if you want something else from it. Anything. Just name it.

Not only that, but you can start the process all over again the next day. Of course the bank has to throw a monkey wrench into this perfect plan by insisting that you have to have money in the account.

Yeah, I know. When you get into figuring that out and asking those kinds of questions, you really are entering the world of super, super, super high finances.

The IRS seems to always want to know things that you don't even know yourself. They give you these hypothetical situations just to scare the eyeballs right out of your head. You see them all the time in the newspaper financial columns, you know, if couple A works two jobs, brings home X amount of money, yet the mother-in-law who lives with them is a real loser, who chain smokes and burned down the home, which is why they are living in a box behind a convenience store, do they have to declare the fact that they forgot to pay $1.95 in taxes on a cardboard grill they bought at a Home Depot?

We all know the answer is yes, plus thousands of dollars in penalties and audits; this adds up to about five to 10 years in a minimum-security facility.

Of course, we need taxes to help fund the government; after all, it provides security and other vital services.

The fact that the government is only open three days a week closed for most of the summer, puts out publications with every word except "the" blacked out, allows your representatives to fly first class to study Third World cities such as Paris and London is incidental as to why most IRS workers skulk around in disguises, wearing the body of a unicorn and the head of a random street person. This year the Ides of March should have nothing on April 15. The main thing is to be afraid.





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