If...

I filled out a tax form today. You know, one of those ominous little black and white monsters who terrorize Americans like clockwork every April.

Oh! That reminds me. I wonder if anyone has ever thought of designating the IRS as a terrorist organization. After all, if you don't buy them off, they'll come with big guns and...

Never mind! Just kidding. To all the IRS agents out there reading this: I take it back! Really, I do.

Back to my story. So, I was filling out this tax form. And suddenly I see a little note at the bottom of the page.

"For federal tax purposes, you are considered a person if you are:

An individual who is a citizen or resident of the United States,

A partnership, corporation, company, or association created or organized in the United States or under the laws of the United States, or

Any estate (other than a foreign estate) or trust. See Regulations sections 301.7701-6(a) and 7(b) for additional information."

Wow.

That piqued my interest. You are a person if?

I always thought you were a person if you were capable of wondering if you are a person. Cogito, ergo sum! I mean, you'd think that most of the IRS's audience would be comprised of persons (Unless, of course, there's someone else on the planet who is interested in paying taxes. Yes! Let the primates foot the bill!).

Apparently I was mistaken. For all I knew, I might be a nonperson. For federal tax purposes, I could be anything!

My fingers twitched nervously, and I rocked slowly back and forth in my seat. The pressure was getting to me. Was I a person, or wasn't I?

I ran quickly through the list. I am not a partnership, corporation, company, association, or estate.

But I am an individual...right?

You can't be too careful. I rushed over to the nearest computer and typed in the address of my trusty friend: dictionary.com

"Individual"

The page had never loaded so slowly. I bit down hard on my lip and waited desperately for the verdict.

"Individual: a person."

What?

And to think that I went to all that trouble.

Thanks for the vote of confidence, tax form. It's nice to be sure.



See Regulation section 28450.2731 subsection 342.18(b) for additional information.

On Postage

It now costs forty-one cents to mail a letter.

I'm sitting here in horror, trying to wrap my mind around said egregious fact.

It costs forty-one cents to mail a letter.

It costs forty-one cents to mail a letter!

And yet there are no riots on the street. I hear nothing of tear gas and policemen, of broken glass and burning vehicles. No one has gone to Washington to demonstrate. No one has fled the country. The world still spins on its axis. Apparently, everything still goes on as normal.

Yet here I sit, petrified. Aghast at the demise of the country I love.

What I greatly feared has come upon me. I will most surely go broke. I will live in misery and perish in obscurity, the innocent victim of a tyrannical postal system.

I still have vague remembrances of the good old days, the days when one could mail a letter for twenty-nine cents. Sure, that was still too much, and you had to lick the back, but at least there was a little money left over to pay the bills after you paid the postage by which to mail them.

Not so these days.

We scraped together a small fortune and bought some stamps a few days ago. They were large and triangular, which struck me as rather odd. They were also unusually beautiful. Apparently, the post office has decided that they will obscure their evil by putting a new face on postage. Apparently, they have been successful.

But the truth remains. This is no time for sugar coating the matter. We have done that for too long already. Ladies and gentlemen, the end of all things is at hand. Prepare to meet your Maker.

It costs forty-one cents to mail a letter.

It costs forty-one cents to mail a letter!