Stickin' It To The Man.

I fulfilled my fiscal obligation and completed my taxes.
I must admit, I hate paying taxes, but that's just because it's an extra percentage of money that's not going in my pocket. Granted, it comes right off the top of my pay, so it's not like I really miss it, but knowing what you should be getting versus what you really get is quite a shock.

Amazingly enough, I'm one of those people who do their taxes by hand, with paper and pencil. Yes, you heard it right, paper and pencil. No fancy coom-putt-errr programs for me.
I'm hardcore all the way, and the Government knows it.
They don't fuck with me.

• (Please Mr. Harper, sir, If the previous statement in anyway offended you or members of your newly formed Government, I wish that you would accept my humblest apologies, and be assured that it will never happen again.)

Yeah, I got those shitbags fooled all the way to the bank.

In fact, according to my calculations, they owe me some monies. Monies which I will collect as soon as possible. What will I spend this windfall on? Who the hell knows?

I wonder how feasible it would be to incorporate oneself, and if the tax breaks are what you think they would be. Anything you can do to just get a bit more back from those greedy scum suckers in Ottawa would be worth it, I think.

• (Once again sir, I'm sorry for this derogatory tone, please don't see fit to punish me by audit. I really did believe that I could claim imaginary friends as dependants.)

But I'm in the clear until next year rolls around, and by then I'll have figured out a way to stash just a fraction more away from those incompetent schmucks at the Tax Bureau. Dumb bastards.

• (I don't know how this keeps popping up, but we are doing our best to prevent it, and no further investigation is necessary.)

I hope your tax season goes as well as mine did (hopefully), and we'll meet at the bar for drinks after, OK?

Later.