The Tak Team Blog

April 15th is the time of the year when Americans can
communicate with their government. I cannot testify for anyone
else, but I look forward to this marvelous opportunity and I am
careful not to waste it. This year, for example, so much has
happened to me since last year it took 15 single-spaced typed
pages to include everything.

However, to be perfectly honest (and who’s perfect), I am a
little disappointed. All the years I have included a personal
letter in with my tax returns, I have yet to get a personal
letter in return.

I’m beginning to think this is a one-way relationship and it
wouldn’t take much for me to quit this correspondence entirely.
Then what would my government think? How would they know what
I’ve been up to all year long?

I am not one to complain, but filling out my income tax return
seems to be getting more complicated each year. When I
familiarize myself with the rules for one year, someone changes
them the next year.

What could not be deducted last year can be this year; and what
was not deductible last year I must pay twice. Why can’t someone
in the government make up my mind and quit all this unnecessary
fluctuation?

On April 16, each year, our government immediately destroys the
tax books to keep them from falling into the hands of a foreign
power. By “foreign,” I mean Canada.

Heaven help us if our neighbor north of the border ever got
their hands on this information. Canadians are not usually known
for their joviality, but once they see these books, the entire
country would break out into uncontrollable laughter. Who knows
what this would do to the delicate relationship now existing
between the two countries.

Because of this important precaution, we need new tax laws each
year.

Right after the New Year’s Eve party, someone in the Internal
Revenue office asks his assistant to “bring me those tax books.”
When informed there are no books, this same person (who shall
remain nameless for obvious reasons) says to his assistant,
“Bob, write me a new tax law book for this year and have it on
my desk by 5 o’clock.”

This sets the wheels of government to whirling and by golly, by
5 o’clock that new tax law book is on the desk. The reason the
tax laws differ from one year to the next is the assistant
responsible for this is fired every year and a new one hired.

The only requirement for the assistant is that his name must be
“Bob.”

I wish one year Bob would call me. It seems he has overlooked
many legitimate deductions every year. I would like to submit
some recommendations to be considered for next year.

First, I am not too happy with this April 15th deadline. I feel
it is much too restrictive and rigid. What is so special about
April 15 that our government should have such an apprehension
about me missing this deadline? What is wrong with June 15? Or,
September 22, for that matter?

I believe the IRS should be more understanding and practice a
nonjudgmental attitude. After all, this is a new millennium
calling for a new attitude on this whole business of taxes. They
ought to trust me to send in my taxes whenever I’m ready, or
remember.

There are some deductions I have never seen on the forms I have
filled out and I have always wondered why. Let me list some:

Grandchildren have never been listed as a legitimate
deduction. Does the IRS know just how expensive grandchildren
are? My jellybean budget alone could finance a small third world
country and I only have three grandchildren.

Pets have never been included as deductions. Pets have a
marvelous role in enhancing our lives and giving us a good
excuse to get out of the house and walk around the block.

Pet food is expensive, as any pet owner knows, not to mention
those exorbitant veterinary bills. (Does my doghouse qualify as
a home office? I spend a lot of time there so it should.)

Vacation is another overlooked item. Does the IRS think I am
taking a vacation just for my health? Oh, yea. I am. Well, my
health is important. Every dollar I spend on vacation should be
deducted from my income and not be taxable, which would take a
lot of stress off my next vacation.

Presents don’t tell me Christmas presents are not authentic
tax-deductible considerations. If it were not for me buying all
those Christmas presents the general economy of our country
would go into a slump. Buying Christmas presents is the one
thing I can do for my country and I should expect some
compensation.

These are just a few suggestions I would make if left up to me.

There is no way I could get away with writing my own ticket for
my personal income tax return. The government has set up rules
and regulations to guide everyone.

Some people think they can write their own ticket when it comes
to God, forgetting God has established rules and regulations
that apply to everyone.

The Bible clearly says; “There is a way which seemeth right unto
a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death.” (Proverbs
14:12 KJV.) And, “Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth,
and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.” (John
14:6 KJV.)

I’ve never been able to quite get a grip on a man’s attitude
towards his penis. Look it’s a body part. We all have body
parts. But somehow, someway, the male penis has evolved to such
an extent; it has developed its own personality, hell, its own
life. If I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’.

Go ahead, ask a man. I guarantee you; he’s named the damned
thing.

Now let me tell you, they’re not ordinary names, no sir. This
small, goofy looking piece of flesh, sitting in front of two
overly sensitive orbs, always, and I do mean always, merits some
sort of large or action packed name - “Big Jim and the Twins” or
“Pumpin’ Pile Driver o’ Passion”.

Yep, they’re talking about that thing that retreats at the
merest suggestion of cold water, and the twins? They’re
hydrophobic. No doubt about it, none at all. They don’t merely
retreat, they flat out run away. Or is it roll away? A shyer
trio you’ll never find.

These appellations, slightly threatening in tone, have no
relation to the actual size of the organ. Even the tiniest
penis, to its owner, warrants big and dangerous names…”The
Thrill Drill”, or my personal favorite, “Vlad the Impaler”. At
least the latter shows a rudimentary knowledge of history.

I don’t quite understand the threatening part. When those little
things are pressed into action, don’t they want to draw women
in, attract them? Think about it for a second, would you prefer
to be impaled, drilled, or massaged? Why not something like,
“Gianni Gentle” or “Ronny Rubdown”? Or better yet, go for the
gold with something meaningful, albeit lengthy, like, “No, Your
Ass Doesn’t Look Big”.

My momma always taught me that you catch more flies with honey,
than vinegar.

Owning a penis must be a daunting proposition, the maintenance
alone must be overwhelming. The poor owner has to continually
“drain the main vein”, and “pull back its turtleneck” to
properly wash. Then, of course, he has to dress the little
bugger by “putting on its helmet”.

It almost appears that the adult penis is the equivalent of a
Barbie doll. They get to bathe it, dress it up, and play with it.

Not only is maintenance a problem, but judging from snippets of
overhead male conversation, bad penile behavior certainly must
run rampant. Truly, their conduct must be appalling. These poor,
put upon, men are constantly involved in the distasteful, but
necessary task of rebuking the wayward organ, by “spanking the
monkey” or “choking the chicken”.

And accountability? Nope, none at all. These tiny, dangerous
organs take no responsibility for their actions. They’re able to
rise from their little nest, and somehow, with only one good
eye, are able to hypnotize their owners, all the while,
ferreting out their target. What they do, and how they do it is
of no concern. They’re not particularly picky about their
targets either, often adopting an “any port in the storm” type
of mentality. Sometimes they’ll even go off, half cocked,
leaving their poor owners dazed and senseless.

We, as women, really should give men a bit more respect.
Spending a lifetime as a penis wrangler deserves some sort of
credit.

In case you’re wondering how I feel about my body parts - I have
a vagina. I’m glad I have a vagina. It just sits there and
patiently waits for its call to action.

And by the way, you’re not going to catch me calling anything
“Large Marge”.

Copyright 2003. All rights reserved. For more really swell
aspects of life, visit Mama’s Secrets,
http://www.mamassecrets.com