The Infernal Revenue Service

No, I didn't mis-spell that word. I meant Infernal.

Now, that last word "service" is clearly an abuse of the definition.

I had the tremendous displeasure of dealing with a Mrs. Jones at the IRS "service" center up in Memphis by phone this afternoon.

Don't you just love how they never give you a first name, and all their surnames are so practically anonymous?! I guess that helps them maintain the aura of a faceless, heartless, brainless bureaucracy.

Anyway, the problems with Mrs. Jones et al stem from my father's Alzheimer's Disease, which I'm sure is why he failed to file a return for 1999, 2000, and 2001.

But, try as I might, I couldn't get any understanding or cooperation from the lovely Mrs. Jones. She only seemed interested in throwing more hoops at me to jump thru than solving the problem. And, she didn't care what three other federal bureaucracies have to say about my father's condition (Department of Veterans Affairs, Department of Defense, and Social Security Administration).

In her words, "The IRS doesn't communicate with other federal agencies." As if this should be a source of pride.

Perhaps this unwillingness to communicate amongst bureaucrats is why we have planes flying into buildings and cannot clean-up after hurricanes . . .

My ongoing flu-like symptoms are not helping my mood today at all. Actually went home early from work, something I almost never do.

Oh, well, time for another shot of Nyquil.

But, before I forget, Happy 60th to Cousin Marki!