Taxing JOW #858

It is Tax Season, the cosmic balance for the joyous Holiday Season.  It could be worse for us – it is Tax Season for tax accountants all year round.   I have to get our taxes in before we head out to the Navaho Indian Reservation for the next three months.  As I told Ruth, ‘This is not just a job, it’s an adventure.’

As I struggle with my own tax return, I find myself sing that old tax ditty, ‘Deep in the Heart of Taxes.’   Perhaps you have heard it:

‘You scheme, you lie, you falsify

When you are paying taxes.

And then you boast you paid the most,

When you are paying taxes.’

I also remember the old Beatles song, Taxman.

If you drive a car, I’ll tax the street;
if you try to sit, I’ll tax your seat;
if you get too cold, I’ll tax the heat;
if you take a walk, I’ll tax your feet.

Or as Charles Schultz put it in Peanuts – “Dear IRS, I’d like to cancel my subscription.  Please remove my name from your mailing list.

And I seem to remember Homer Simpson filling out his income tax form – “Marge, if anyone asks you, you require 24 hour health care, Lisa is a clergyman, Bart was wounded in Vietnam, and Maggie is four people.”

Some tax truisms:

·         People who struggle with their income tax can be divided into two categories: Men and women.

·         The guy who said that the truth never hurts never had to fill out a form 1040

·         Tax Day is the day that ordinary Americans send their money to Washington, D.C., and wealthy Americans send their money to the Cayman Islands.

·         Children may be deductible, but they are still taxing.

·         Of life's two certainties, taxes are the only one for which has a guaranteed extension.

·         You must pay taxes. But there's no law that says you gotta leave a tip.

·         It would be nice if we could all pay our taxes with a smile, but normally cash is required.

·         The income tax has made more liars out of the American people than golf has.

·         Even when you make a tax form out on the level, you don't know when it's through if you are a crook or a martyr.

·         Teach your kids about taxes early – eat 30% of their ice cream

·         Optimist: Someone who sets aside two hours to do his income tax return.

·         Income tax returns: the most imaginative fiction written today.

·         A fine is a tax for doing wrong, a tax is a fine for doing well.

Some non-tax jokes:

A climber fell off a cliff, and as he tumbled down, he caught hold of a small branch

"HELP! IS THERE ANYBODY UP THERE?" he shouted.

A majestic voice boomed through the gorge: "I will help you, my son, but first you must have faith in me."

"Yes, yes, I trust you!" cried the man.

"Let go of the branch," boomed the voice.

There was a long pause, and the man shouted up again, "IS THERE ANYONE ELSE UP THERE I COULD TALK TO?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Which reminded me of this visual joke:

Another climber fell off a very high cliff.  As he tumbled down he cried out, “St. Francis save me!”

A giant hand came down from the heavens and gently grasped the falling climber between his thumb and forefinger, catching him well off the ground.

“Oh, thank you, St. Francis,” the climber said fervently.

“Wait,” said an enormous voice, “did you mean St Francis of Assisi, or St. Francis of Padua?” 

“Why St. Francis of Assisi, of course.”

The giant fingers opened.

++++++++++++++++++

The Mayor of a small town in rural Wisconsin had a problem. The old draw bridge, which was the only way out of town, was in a state of disrepair and needed to be rebuilt.

So he called in three contractors to bid on the job: one from Cincinnati, one from New York, and one from Washington, D.C.

The Mayor met with the Cincinnati contractor first, and asked him: "How much to build the bridge?"

"$3 million," said the man from Cincinnati. "$1.5 for the supplies. $1.5 million for the labor."

Next, the Mayor met with the New York contractor, and asked him: "How much to build the bridge?"

"$6 million," said the New Yorker. "$3 for the supplies. $3 million for the labor."

Finally, the Mayor brought in the contractor from Washington D.C., and asked him: "How much to build the bridge?"

"$9 million," said the man from Washington.

"$9 million," the Mayor repeated, aghast. "That's three times more expensive than the lowest bid. How do you break that down?"

"Easy," said the Washingtonian. "$3 million for you. $3 million for me. And $3 million to hire the guy from Cincinnati."

+++++++++++++++++++

After years of pouring his heart out to his therapist, and spending a big chunk of his income on these sessions, a man finally decides to ask a question about a puzzling aspect of his therapist’s method.

"Doctor," says the patient, "I've been coming to lie on your couch once a week for 20 years, sharing with you the most painful details of my childhood, cataloging my every insecurity, delving deep into all my regrets and bad habits, weeping at the limitations to my personal growth. And all the while you’ve sat there, motionless, listening, observing, but never once asking a question or offering advice. Why? Why the silence?”

After a long pause, the therapist says, “No hablo Inglés.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Finally, is it just me, or are there fewer minimalists every year?