I dropped my taxes in the mail at the downtown post office, they had 4 lines of traffic dropping off Uncle Sam’s love letters. Subway was there too, handing out bite sized samples.It's more fun when the crack dealers are handing out samples.
The grandfather clock in the living room tells me that all of you procrastinators have three hours left before the deadline. After that, under the new rules granted to the IRS by Congress, Ted Kennedy gets to drive your car and date your daughter until you fork over the dough.
To make you feel better, let me pass along the anecdote noted by Christopher Morley in his introduction to The Complete Sherlock Holmes:
Of {Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's} humor there is a pleasant income-tax story. In his first year of independent medical practice his earnings were £154, and when the income-tax paper arrived he filled it up to show that he was not liable. The authorities returned the form with the words Most Unsatisfactory scrawled across it. He returned it again with the subscription I entirely agree.
