You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy.™
TAXES.
My guy filed an extension so I’m still fighting the man.
That’s right, the Tax Man.
He wants and wants and wants till I have no more to give.
He is a greedy S.O.B. reaching into my pocket, swiping the authorization code to my financial salvation.
So I’m sitting here in a paper pile of hell created by taxes.
Words like dividend income and S corporation and IRA contributions fill my brain. WTF?
My eyes are flying whirly gigs of confusion.
I’m staring at numbers and W-2’s.
I hate tax time. It’s a fiscal gauntlet. They take dollars out of my check every two weeks. Why do I have to go through all this again? Why must they take more? Does it matter how many dependents I have and how much mortgage income I paid and whether I gave my couch to charity?
Yes, yes and yes.
I hate it. Taxes suck. Paying the government more money is like rubbing a potato peeler over my sun burned ass. It’s like the grim reaper of death, blowing smoke rings in my face and then saying; “so what you gonna do about it punk?”
The answer to that is not much. Which is why tax season is a frightening time for the average citizen. We’re just trying to keep our jobs and make our bosses happy and then, April 15th arrives like a hockey mask wearing lunatic at the lake.
Then your CPA says “I think we need to file an extension”
AARRGGGHHH!
That’s like rebreaking a broken bone to fix something that was fixing itself.
I understand why people dumped tea in the harbor so many years ago. I understand the feeling of shooting the Sheriff of Nottingham with high velocity quills. I understand the feeling of violation when a massive governmental organism reaches into my bank account and has its way with me without my consent.
The only way to deal with Uncle Sam is to learn his tax language, and since I only know bus boy Spanish, that means I have to turn my financial Holy Grail over to the experts, the CPA’s, who spend a lifetime learning to talk the talk and decipher the code.
Don’t get me wrong. I love my tax guys. I just wish I didn’t need them to compute how much I make and what I am worth and what i owe.
You shouldn’t need a PHD to write your uncle a check. But that’s what it takes now-a-days.
That’s why your CPA is a necessary evil. These are humans who see the world differently than you and me. Their world is so punctilious, so structured, so black and white.
You wouldn’t pull your own tooth would you? That’s why you need a good tax accountant.
My CPA’s are human calculators, who like Rain Man, see numbers in their sleep and savings while they use the John. These boys are working an angle brushing their teeth and demanding more documents of proof while they speed down the Diamond lane on I-5.
I’m just saying, this time of year sucks. I hate the numbers and the stress and the worry. Haven’t I paid enough? Really, I owe someone more? For what?
So say a little thank you to your CPA. He’s a necessary evil. Ask him to flip the IRS the bird.
And now back to line 1. wages, tips other compensation, not to be confused with line 2 federal income tax withheld.
Ahhhh.
And that is crazy™