Katie Doyle, Girl About Town

Tuesday, Oct. 15, 2002 - 1:14 a.m.

"It is a far worse place I go to than I have ever been; a far worse thing I do than I have ever done."
--Charlotte Dickens

I have put it off for six months.

I have procrastinated, forgotten, blown it off, ignored it, and planned to send it to my mom, who does this kind of thing for a living. It is hell every year, the worst task set before me, and yet, really, what is so bad about it? What, indeed, except that I have to go hunt thru every stupid scrap of paper I have accrued and stuck into no fewer than a dozen different places, and probably a lot more, over the course of the last 12 months. Why, why, why do they insist those young, untried, innocent ones of us run this gamut of fire every single year, at least once, and 4 times, if you're "lucky". :sigh:

Income tax.

Yyyyup.

Income tax. That loveliest of all experiences. The IRS must be the most sadistic bunch of people ever, that they happily and enthusiastically enforce this heinous restriction on all of us every year. I don't make enough money to even afford a stupid trip to Vegas for a weekend once a year - or indeed even to afford a decent flop on my own - but boy, I sure have to pony up the dough for Uncle Sam every year. I mean, we have to work like half the year just to earn enough money to pay our individual tax debt. Can't I just do my business with Uncle Sam the way he does with me? Seriously, I could probably bring myself to ring up a couple trillion bucks in deficit if they'd just let me try. I mean, I'm sure it would be serious work, but I'm pretty sure I could do it. And then I'll just send a little money in every year with a note that says I'm gonna need a few billion for this or that, but here's a little to shave off that big ol' note o' mine, and here's a coupla bucks for you to go buy yourself something nice.

No really. I promise to spend it on useless stuff like studies to find out how many pickles Americans eat every year (about 9 pounds or 106 pickles per person per annum), what kind of pickles are most popular (dill), and whether or not Americans prefer bumps on their pickles (yes, but Europeans prefer a bumpless gerkin). I will also study the flow rates of various brands of catsup, and getting monkeys stoned. (oh yes, dear reader, they did) In addition, I will make sure I spend every single dime I have budgeted for, whether I need to or not, because I realize if I don't, Congress may not believe me next year when I say I need $150 billion to get by.

Don't get me wrong, I know we need taxes, else how would the government function? I'm sure my $2000 or so every year buys a lotta airplane parts. I just hate doing the paperwork...and looking at how much money the government thinks I should pay it for the benefit of having a job that doesn't really actually pay for anything I need in life. But hey; there's always next year and the hope that when I finish with school, I can go into business for myself and enter a much higher tax bracket. Maybe even one with loopholes. Who knows; I might even find out exactly what capital gains are and how I can benefit by them.

And then I'll pay my mom to do my taxes.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go find where the hell I put all my stupid cell phone bills, so that I can deduct the calls I made to my agent, because frankly, at 35%, every little deduction helps.

Power to the people,

Katie

ps. To alleviate my boredom and irritation at how sloooooooowly my stupid hair is growing, I colored it dark brown tonight and am now thinking of changing my name to Lola to go with my newly sassy and exotic tresses.

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In which Katie shares sad news - Wednesday, Apr. 01, 2015
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In which Katie pokes her head in and brushes some of the cobwebs away - Thursday, May. 06, 2010
In which Katie asks you to write your congressman again. - Monday, Jun. 02, 2008
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