Psst. It's Tax Rayturn, here. I tried to wake Claudia but Stingray was over there late last night. I'm a bit worried. By the way, that's not a smile on face. Stand on your head and look. It's that day again. I hate tax day. If you think today is bad wait till next year. This is the day when Uncle Sam is either kind enough to give us some of our money back or in my case comes asking for more.
I'm sick about it. I'm a good Ray. I don't start wars. I'm not on welfare. I'm not on Medicare and I'm not drawing Social Security. Yeah, yeah, yeah....I know what you're thinking. What if it was you? Or, just wait till you retire buddy. I get it. We all have to do our part. This is America. Blah blah blah. I wish my buddy Stingray was here. I talked to him last night. He was like a crazy person. Nothing but long strings of extremely creative yet disturbing profanity. I tried to lecture him the way you want to tell me. I couldn't get a word in edgewise. At one point, he said he was coming to the house. I was afraid he was going to stick me.
Drunk. That's what he was. Drunk and mad. What do you say to a guy like that? What are you going to say to me this evening when I'm drunk and mad? Not only do I have to pay, but I have to stand in line at the post office to do it! Why did I wait so long? Because I like to hang on to the few coins that I have as long as I can. It probably wouldn't be so bad if we could write on the back of our check all the programs that we wanted out money to go to and all the ones that we didn't. I'd kind of like that.
I'd pay teachers more. Maybe save a baby seal or two. Give some kids some medicine. Send Dr. Phil to Antarctica to work with the penguins for a few years. Hell, I'd even send Sarah Palin with him.
What about you? What would you write on the back of your check?