I hate my people

March 11, 2008

Just came from H&R Block and want to share with you a few of the things that are now on my menu.

Cardboard that I find in dumpsters, Elmer’s Glue from the back of little pictures my nieces and nephews create at school, anything given away free at Whole Foods during the lunching hour, whatever I can sweep up at Faneuil Hall Marketplace after the produce vendors pack up their wares, the remaining Thin Mint GS Cookies on the island, chicken and pork bits on toothpicks passed out in the food court at any mall, jellyfish that have washed up on the shore, and anything else that doesn’t require the task of trading money for it.

Because now I am destitute!


I complain a little about this annually, mostly because I find myself filling out a game-show sized check to the IRS in the middle of April each year. But the real complaint should be about my DNA. If I were smarter I wouldn’t keep repeating this mistake. And I would be able to enjoy food, heat and maybe other luxuries like Powerade instead of delighting in a government-imposed fast.

Maybe Lent was created by people who forgot to pay quarterly taxes and then got bit in the butt by this fact when they had to pay the king or some lord around the time that Jesus rose from the ground, or was hung from a cross, or rose again, or some such madness.

All I know is that I owe an enormous amount of cash to the US and I shouldn’t have purchased a larger TV, a life-size mannequin of George Michael, or the delicious—but pricey—family bucket of chicken at KFC.


I further suspect that I’m going to have to start selling some stuff on Craigslist and eBay in short order. Keep your eyes peeled for Jones Soda and some very fashionable police pants. These could be the first to go and I’m sure the rampant bidding on these items will set the tone for the rest of my auctions.

I might have people, but now those people have my money and have essentially tattled on me to Uncle Sam. And he wants my money too.

If I can afford to get back to Paris, maybe I’ll stay there. The French might be snobby and holier-than-thou, but they won’t let you starve.

More to come…