hey kids, don't do drugs

The idea that I would be checking grammar on any document (a driver’s license, an exit sign, a birthday car from my mother, or children’s homework) must be some sort of irony (X can explain the four types of irony; she’s like that). I vividly remember sitting in English classes taught by the likes of Ms. Wiltsie, Mr. Howe, Mrs. Chevalier, Mrs. Lorenzen, and Mr. Drickey, and ruing the day I was born and eventually mandated to fulfill public school English requirements. Those hours were, and I am not understating, the most tedious and horrific classroom times of my entire life. I hated them…every last second. I hated English like I hated Barry Switzer and the Oklahoma Sooners during the 70s and 80s. Hate. Is that clear enough? It wasn’t the teachers, it was the material, and it’s probably one of the reasons I never much liked fiction or novels - it seemed like too much work. Back to the story. X gave me a legally paper of some sort last night to proofread. Giving me anything like that is opening up the writer to ridicule and general laughter from my position on the couch. The reason I’m so difficult on papers these days is that I remember running away screaming from any type of writing, but I also reflect on the last ten years and know that I’m much better at some of the word stuff than I was throughout the 1980s and 1990s. By any account I’m self-taught, a very middle-of-the-road self-taught, and I find myself amazed that college graduates (and law school students) write formal dissertations at about my writing level. I’m always assuming that I’ll be duly impressed by their wordsmithing, yet I rarely am. (By the way, I had two New Yorkers, one Esquire, and the Onion laid before me, ready to enjoy some reading when the 30 pages covering “prior informed consent” were tossed at me.) I played along and made feeble attempts to only highlight subject-verb agreement errors, grievous misspellings, lack (or inclusion) of hyphenated adjectives, etc. I think these are the evenings spent together that represent the pillars of loving relationship. Actually, that’s not true. I think she’s been misguided by our daily discussions on slip decisions, politics, and ‘what’s for dinner’. It happens.

Not only that, but as I was scratching a few red marks, and making sure that I didn’t make her look stupid when she hands in the draft, we end up delving into some of her tax law studies. For instance, if you purchased a lottery ticket and gave it to your progeny as a gift, and those numbers hit three days later, what is the adjusted basis of said “gift” and when would you claim the income tax purposes?. I know what you’re thinking – who cares? I care, that’s who. I immediately piped up with a ‘scenario’ where I had sat down at a Caesar’s Palace blackjack table (non-smoking) and parlayed $100 into $1200 over the course of an hour. If this had ‘actually’ happened, the pit boss would have stopped over to not only complement my excellent play, but he would have wanted me to join the player’s club. You know…name, room number, address, driver’s license…just fill out this form, well played! You see, if I’m sitting at his table with 1G of earnings he’s going to report me to the IRS. The problem for him is that he’s got no idea whether or not I’ll cash in and walk away when I’m done; all he knows is that I just made $1,000 – so it’s time to pay up. The value of my black chips doesn’t change unless I’m stupid (see below), just like the value of the ticket doesn’t change regardless of when I cash in because it isn’t traded like a stock or bond. You pay taxes the moment it’s worth the winning amount and you claim it during the tax year it was awarded, not the year you cash it in. I’ll be open for tax consultation, and comedic interpretations of the tax code, through the extended deadline in October. Two shows on Sunday.

If you must know, my friend took his money and walked down to the MGM in a vainglorious attempt to get back the $300 he lost the previous night. That is never a good idea. I think everyone should use the story of my friend as a definitive lesson in gambling.

Peace and aces.

T.