Taxed To Death

Dear IRS,

I am sorry to inform you that I will not be able to pay taxes owed April 15, but all is not lost.

I have paid these taxes: accounts receivable tax, grocery tax, building permit tax, CDL tax, tobacco tax, Liquor tax, federal income tax, FICA, unemployment tax, gasoline tax, hunting license tax, fishing license tax, waterfowl stamp tax, inheritance tax, inventory tax, Medicare tax, city, school and county property tax (up 33 percent last 4 years), social security tax, state and city sales tax, recreational vehicle tax, state franchise tax, telephone federal excise tax, telephone federal state and local surcharge tax, cell phone tax, telephone minimum usage surcharge tax, utility tax, vehicle license registration tax, capital gains tax, Iowa property tax and sales tax, that $200 ticket for going 5mph over while trying to get to work so I can pay taxes for Barney-let the crackheads go 'cause they can't pay a fine-Fife's salary (and that new police car he drives) and many more that I can't recall but I have run out of space and money. On top of this I need to save all I can to help my kids because our government obviously isn't worried about sidling them with several TRILLION dollars of unneeded debt.

When you do not receive my check April 15, just know that it is an honest mistake. Please treat me the same way you treated Congressmen Charles Rangle, Chris Dodd, Barney Frank and ex-Congressman Tom Dashelle and, of course, your boss Timothy Geithner. No penalties and no interest.

P.S. I will make at least a partial payment as soon as I get my stimulus check.
Sincerely Yours,
American Taxpayer

Some People Are A Pain

"The average dog is a nicer person than the average person." -- Andy Rooney

I'm beginning to think that is true.
I attended a bridal shower today
and the room was full of bitches
and I'm not talking about the furry kind.

Become An Illegal

FORMS ARE GOING FAST- SIGN UP TODAY!
Becoming Illegal (Actual letter from an Iowa resident and sent to his senator)
The Honorable Tom Harkin
731 Hart Senate Office Building
Phone (202) 224 3254
Washington DC , 20510

Dear Senator Harkin,
As a native Iowan and excellent customer of the Internal Revenue Service, I am writing to ask for your assistance. I have contacted the Department of Homeland Security in an effort to determine the process for becoming an illegal alien and they referred me to you.
My primary reason for wishing to change my status from U.S. Citizen to illegal alien stems from the bill which was recently passed by the Senate and for which you voted. If my understanding of this bill's provisions is accurate, as an illegal alien who has been in the United States for five years, all I need to do to become a citizen is to pay a $2,000 fine and income taxes for three of the last five years I know a good deal when I see one and I am anxious to get the process started before everyone figures it out.
Simply put, those of us who have been here legally have had to pay taxes every year so I'm excited about the prospect of avoiding two years of taxes in return for paying a $2,000 fine. Is there any way that I can apply to be illegal retroactively? This would yield an excellent result for me and my family because we paid heavy taxes in 2004 and 2005.
Additionally, as an illegal alien I could begin using the local emergency room as my primary health care provider. Once I have stopped paying premiums for medical insurance, my accountant figures I could save almost $10,000 a year.
Another benefit in gaining illegal status would be that my daughter would receive preferential treatment relative to her law school applications, as well as 'in-state' tuition rates for many colleges throughout the United States for my son.
Lastly, I understand that illegal status would relieve me of the burden of renewing my driver's license and making those burdensome car insurance premiums. This is very important to me given that I still have college age children driving my car.
If you would provide me with an outline of the process to become illegal(retroactively if possible) and copies of the necessary forms, I would be most appreciative. Thank you for your assistance.
Your Loyal Constituent,
Donald Ruppert
Burlington , IA

Get your Forms (NOW)!! Call your Internal Revenue Service 1-800-289-1040.

Fairy Tale

A beautiful fairy appeared one day to a destitute refugee claimant outside a Maryland immigration office. 'Good man,' the fairy said, 'I've been sent here by President Obama and told to grant you three wishes, since you just arrived in the United States with your wife and threechildren.' The man told the fairy, 'Well, where I come from we don't have good teeth, so I want new teeth, maybe a lot of gold in them.' The fairy looked at the man's almost toothless grin and -- PING ! -- he had a brand new shining set of gold teeth in his mouth! 'What else?' asked the fairy, 'two more to go.' The refugee claimant now got bolder. 'I need a big house with a three car garage in Annapolis on the water with eight bedrooms for my family and the rest of my relatives who still live in my country. I want to bring them all over here..'

PING ! - In the distance there could be seen abeautiful mansion with a three car garage, a long driveway, a walkout patio with a BBQ in an upscale neighborhood overlooking the bay. 'One more wish', said the fairy, waving her wand. Yes, one more wish. I want to be like an American with American clothes instead of these toren cloths, and abaseball cap instead of this turban. And I want to have white skin like Americans.' PING ! - The man was transformed, wearing worn out jeans, a
Baltimore Orioles T-shirt and a baseball cap. He had his bad teeth
back and the mansion had disappeared from the horizon. 'What happened to my new teeth?' he wailed. 'Where is my new
house?'


THIS IS GOOD .... The fairy said 'Tough shit, Mac. Now that you are a White American,
you have to fend for yourself.'

And she disappeared.

Life On File

The Room....


In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read 'Girls I have liked.' I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.


This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.


A file named 'Friends' was next to one marked 'Friends I have betrayed.' The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird 'Books I Have Read,' 'Lies I Have Told,' 'Comfort I have Given,' 'Jokes I Have Laughed at ..' Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: 'Things I've yelled at my brothers.' Others I couldn't laugh at: 'Things I Have Done in My Anger', 'Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents.' I never ceased to be surprised by the contents.


Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.


When I pulled out the file marked 'TV Shows I have watched', I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.


When I came to a file marked 'Lustful Thoughts,' I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content.


I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!' In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards.. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.


Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.


And then I saw it.. The title bore 'People I Have Shared the Gospel With.' The handle was brighter than those around it,seemed newer,20almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands.. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.


And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.


No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own.


He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.


Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. 'No!' I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was 'No, no,' as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back.. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side.


He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, 'It is finished.' I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.

Fat Cat

Happy St. Patrick's Day

May the road rise up and meet you and may the wind always be at your back.

Success

To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children...to leave the world a better place...to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Just When You Thought It Was Safe To Go Back In The Water

Politically Correct

Due to the climate of political correctness now pervading America, Kentuckians, Tennesseans and West Virginians will

no longer be referred to as "HILLBILLIES."

You must now refer to them as
APPALACHIAN-AMERICANS.

And furthermore,
HOW TO SPEAK ABOUT WOMEN AND BE POLITICALLY CORRECT:

1. She is not a "BABE" or a "CHICK" - She is a"BREASTED AMERICAN."

2. She is not "EASY" - She is "HORIZONTALLY ACCESSIBLE."

3. She is not a "DUMB BLONDE" - She is a "LIGHT-HAIRED DETOUR OFF THE INFORMATION SUPERHIGHWAY."

4. She has not "BEEN AROUND" - She is a "PREVIOUSLY-ENJOYED COMPANION."

5. She does not "NAG" you - She becomes "VERBALLY REPETITIVE."

6. She is not a "TWO-BIT HOOKER" - She is a "LOW COST PROVIDER."
(SOUNDS LIKE SHE WORKED AT AN INSURANCE CO.BEFORE SHE GOT A REAL JOB)

HOW TO SPEAK ABOUT MEN AND BE POLITICALLY CORRECT:

1. He does not have a "BEER GUT" - He has developed a "LIQUID GRAIN STORAGE FACILITY."

2. He is not a "BAD DANCER" - He is "OVERLY CAUCASIAN."

3. He does not "GET LOST ALL THE TIME" - He "INVESTIGATES ALTERNATIVE DESTINATIONS."

4. He is not "BALDING" - He is in "FOLLICLE REGRESSION."

5. He does not act like a "TOTAL ASS" - He develops a case of "RECTAL-CRANIAL INVERSION."
(Loved this one!)

6. It's not his 'CRACK' you see hanging out of his pants - It's "REAR CLEAVAGE".

And Now...The End Of The Story

Paul Harvey, who captivated millions of radio listeners daily with his staccato delivery, firmly set opinions and old-fashioned outlook, died on Saturday at the age of 90 at a hospital near his winter home in Phoenix.

He was on the air for more than 60 years, becoming a fixture across the United States in 1951 when he joined ABC Radio.

Working out of Chicago, Harvey started his show each day by barking, "Hello, Americans, this is Paul Harvey! Stand by for news!" and would sign off with a forceful "Paul Harvey ... good day!" In between, he flung out a variety of trademark phrases that listeners came to expect like, "Stay tuned for the rest of the story" and "May I have your undivided for just a moment."

Rest in peace. We'll miss your stories.