HUZZAH! The IRS Approves!

I want to put “approves” in funky off-ASCII wiggletype. It’d emphasize just how… I have to say it. Titillated. I am. That the IRS has given me their stamp of approval. Without which, let’s face it, I’d be an incomplete human being. I feel like life is have worthing, but I know that can’t be write unless I have the ritten approval of people who know the details [digression: ‘details’ should be in highly funky typesetting too… like microcaps or itilicaps or suprabold, you know what I mean… but formatting is so declasse. Suggestive of effort where elocution insufficiently sufficed. Should digressions be term limited?] and I know full well that know one nos the details better than the IRS.

I mean seriously, it must be so wonderful, to be not only totally informed, but to know all of the rules, to be able to fit them together, the ultimate jigsaw of life, of commerce, of did someone say that commerce is the loveblood of somethingorother, of BEING! of justifications for citizenship. Yes, citizenship. That’s the root right there. Without citizenship there is no meaning within society, there is no social contract. T’is the citizen who signs (in infrared ink) and is sworn and is bound. Tightly bound. Yielding benefits! And we must compel the price. Which shall be determined by the rule keepers. Don’t you get it? The rule keepers are shiniest! Can’t argue with definitions. They are inarguable. By definition.

Where was I? Ah yes. I was being serious. The IRS has accepted me.

Really. REALLY. I’m not joking here or being metaphorical. I have it on my screen. Well, one tab over. Right off the task bar. There’s this green square. To the right is my name and a year. To the left is the calculator application that comes with Windows. I needed it to sum the precise number of days I’d lived in one state. Precisely. The state needed to know. Leftmore is iTunes, which I shamefully admit serves my primary MP3 rendering functions. Further leftward are a host of no longer needed pinned-to-the-cork-like-butterflies applications which once served a function but no more. No more. The Department, Justice told me so. Finally, me browser, feelin Scotch, whereupon I typest.

And it’s all ugly. Seriously. Including the word ‘seriously.’ All ugliness. It’s all so fucking ugly. But back to the green square: “Last Known Status” then “Federal Return” then “Accepted.” Today I become a manculus. It’s like a man, only with a poverty of scissors. Or a surplus of strings. One of the two.


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