4:18 p.m. - February 05, 2003
Why are you coming after me for money? As if the roads were nicely paved and I owe you a favor or two? Damn government!
A letter from the California Franchise Tax Board demands $400 and change, alleging I under-reported more than $5,000 in income and includes an envelope for my check. Call me a stickler for details but before I give anybody money I want to see exactly what happened; I know I did not under-report income, so I'm thinking they, these fat-cat overworked underappreciated duly hated tax people, have taken issue with my itemized deductions. But I'd like to know (a) which deductions and (b) the what and how. In other words, give me the details. Details! Do you know what it does to me to be on the receiving end of We Caught You, You Dirty Under-reporting Thief cloaked behind an insert reminding the reader of the state's ability - desire? - to garnish wages, sell children, stick it to you?
So I called and was proud to see that it's not a 1-800 number (go, government, go!) and made a mental note to deduct the cost of the call on next year's taxes (fully legitimate); spoke to a representative who could only say, The computer says... and said I can file an appeal. Sheesh. Like I'm going to draw more attention to myself? If that's not a trap then I don't know what a trap is; with taxes it's not the squeaky wheel that gets the oil, it's the squeaky wheel gets shafted and taxed and lives to rue the day. I'm stuck on this mysterious $5,000 and (questionable?) deductions. This is a head fuck, the damn bastards.
And likely, a letter from the IRS to follow?
And I had convinced myself to buy a digital camera. Awww. How sad. No toys for Jason for a while.
Who said only the little people pay taxes? Leona Helmsley? The Clintons? Enron? Not sure, but I'm feeling pretty damn little as I break out the checkbook. Mental note 2: Itemize stamp, envelope.
Grrrrrr.
