Saturday, February 28, 1998; Offices of Metzler, Locricchio, Serra & Co, Birmingham, Michigan.

It’s that time of the year: The annual visit to see Mike Locricchio, the accountant. Like a pilgrimage to see a wise man, I’m here to ask Mike "will I get any money back?" It’s tax return time.

"Death and taxes, death and taxes," moans the slightly pudgy, middle aged man next to me in the waiting room. He is wearing a Nike warm-up suit and penny loafers. "Last year I had to pay over $100,000 in taxes. Asinine, absolutely asinine."

I guess I have that kind of face that makes people want to share their financial statements. "I’m sorry," I replied.

"Your sorry! Huh, I’m sorry!" He played with the hair in his ear. "$100,000 last year. But not this year, no sir, I had a plan this year."

"You made less money?" I stupidly replied. In my simple world, more income means more taxes, less income, less taxes.

"Less money! Are you kidding me, I made almost twice as much this year. But we worked out a plan last year to shield almost all of it from the Fed’s. My effective rate this year is less than 10%."

I was trying to do the math but the numbers were far too large, and pulling out a calculator at this point in the conversation seemed a bit rude.

"Ten percent," I said, "well that certainly seems…."

"Outrageous," he interjected, "absolutely outrageous. Those bloodsuckers… and what do I get for my money anyway?"

"Roads, police, fire protection, air traffic controllers, hospitals, stable economy, clean water, disaster relief, the ability to

New This Week:
A couple of Jokes, a bunch of new Photos, and a page in the Archives.

park a couple of aircraft carriers off the coast of some misbehaving dictator’s coast, knowledge about the Presidents sex life … Actually the list is quite long…"

Another dumb answer.

"What do I care about all of those things. It’s my money, if I want to pay for those things, then I should have the choice."

"Well, yes perhaps," I blundered onward. He was starting to look at me somewhat suspiciously. "But while things certainly could use improvement, they do seem to work pretty well, don’t they?"

He narrowed his eyes and looked at me. He had heard enough.

"You’re one of them liberals, aren’t ya?"

"Well, no, not really…"

"Yes you are, and you probably support those liiiiiibbbbbeeeerrrrallll programs like… like… like Social Security, don’t you?"

"Well, yes, I guess. I don’t have any problem helping older people who helped build the country, fought in it’s wars, and paid into the account all of those years."

"Liberal with a capital L. Worthless, the lot of ya. You won’t find me paying for any of your commie programs. I’ve got a plan! Less than 10%…."

Fortunately, the door opened and Mr. 10% was ushered in, no doubt to work on his plan for next year.

Me? Well my meeting with Mike went well; I had a good year and got a little back. And, I’ve got another 365 days before I have to worry again about all of those old retirees sucking me dry.