Things were actually pretty quiet around here today – after all, I don’t decide when people desperately require my consultation, they do. And so, there are, as might well be expected, a certain amount of, shall we say, stochastic process variations to my appointment schedule. Not that I mind; in fact, considering how messed up some of my clients are, not to mention the high degree of stress my profession involves, even when I’m dealing with nearly normal clients, I eagerly welcome an occasional slow day. There’s always plenty of stuff to catch up on, especially since, being self-employed, and having a quite a few clients that Uncle Sam doesn’t exactly love, it’s essential that I keep my billing and tax records in order.
Having taken several accounting courses when I got my MBA, needless to say, I know better than to do my own taxes. You know who does their own taxes? Bozos who own failing funeral homes, that’s who – them, the working poor, and legions of idiots with meaningless jobs and too much time on their hands. Take it from somebody with a degree in finance, folks, if you’re doing your own taxes, there’s something seriously wrong with you. Either you don’t make enough money for the IRS to care about what you file, you don’t have anything better to do (and admit it, if so, that’s extremely pathetic) or you’re completely out of touch with reality. And I’m certainly not talking about H&R Block here, okay? No, really, I’m saying that if, between now and April 15, 2010, everybody in America who makes more than thirty grand a year hired a real CPA to do their taxes, by May 30, 2010, having come to the realization that there is nobody they can screw to satisfy their degenerate need for sadistic pleasure, half the otherwise unemployable, antisocial, nasty, incompetent jerks who work for the United States Internal Revenue Service will have keeled over in underwear-soaking fits of pure, unadulterated, purple-faced, gibbering, foam-flecked, tongue-swallowing, exophthalmic apoplexy. And, as we all know, it would serve every damn one of them right if they did. Then Gretchen peeked into my office.
“Mr. Collins,” she meekly inquired, “do you know who Kanye West is?”
“Sure,” I replied, “His latest album, 808s and Heartbreak, while not receiving quite the critical acclaim of his first three, is nevertheless on the verge of becoming another Billboard Number One Best Seller in America.”
“For someone who likes opera,” Gretchen observed, “you’re pretty cool.”
“Thanks,” I said with a boyish smile. “Why are you asking me about Kanye West?”
“Because he’s holding on Line One,” she replied with a sly grin of her own.
West: Tom [expletive] Collins, I [expletive] presume?
Tom: [Expletive]-A!
West: Yo, okay then, I’m totally [expletive] here, ya know?
Tom: Concerning what, may I ask?
West: Like, all my connected friends, right? The ones with the big-time things goin’ on in Washington, where you are?
Tom: Yeah, what about them?
West: They talkin’ like, you know, I can’t get no breaks with the United States Attorneys nur nuthin’ no mo’ fo’ my ho’s an’ [expletive] an’ [expletive] an’…
Tom: Mr. West?
West: Yo, what the [expletive]?
Tom: You and I both know that you have an IQ over 140 and can write like Ernest Hemingway when you feel like it, so can we drop the usual pretenses?
West: Uh, um, yeah, sure. No problem, Mr. Collins.
Tom: Call me Tom.
West: Okay, Tom. The truth is, I’m worried about my image. The President of the United States called me “a jackass.”
Tom: Well, considering that Obama’s a Democrat, it’s hardly the worst thing he could say.
West: What – you mean, because the Democratic Party…
Tom: Exactly. During the campaign for the election of 1828, supporters of John Quincy Adams called Andrew Jackson “the Jack-ass,” and what did he do? He turned it around on them, just like the guys all the law-and-order freaks called “gangster rappers” did, remember? They turned it around; they made it their own! Just like Old Hickory did. He made a jackass the symbol of his political party – the Democratic Party – which it remains to this very day!
West: Yeah, I see your point.
Tom: So, I read the papers, so to speak, although actually, I read it on the Internet day before yesterday, and I know what happened. You broke little old Taylor Swift’s heart by jumping in her hog trough with both feet while she was about to begin to get ready to start to commence to wallerin’ in it…
West: But damn it, Tom, Beyoncé got totally robbed!
Tom: Okay, I know what you mean. I’ve listened to “You Belong to Me” and I’ve listened to “Single Ladies,” and frankly, I agree with you…
West: Then why did the judges…
Tom: Oh, come on, Kanye. A genius autodidact such as yourself…
West: I mean really, every song that dumb cracker does starts off with a God-damn banjo, for Christ’s sake! What’s up with that?
Tom: She’s supposedly a “country and western” influenced pop act, Kanye, you know that.
West: But look at the difference in them, Tom, there’s no comparison…
Tom: Yeah, yeah, I know – Beyoncé’s a fully-formed, assertive woman in her prime and Swift’s a closet-homosexual farm-hand’s fantasy with a figure like a flitty teenage boy…
West: I’d agree with you, but then I’d have to apologize to flitty teenage boys. You know she hangs out with Miley Cyrus, don’t you?
Tom: I certainly wouldn’t find that surprising.
West: They’re both products of the same lame, homogenized entertainment conglomerate. And can you believe she beat out someone as genuine as Beyoncé?
Tom: Oh, yeah, Beyoncé is definitely a true, authentic, bona fide real person if there ever was one.
West: For sure. And tell me honestly, Tom, do you think Taylor Swift could wear a one-piece bathing suit and do what Beyoncé did?
Tom: Ah, well, no, of course not.
West: Damn straight she couldn’t. If Swift tried that, she’d be flopping around like a wounded bird.
Tom: I must admit, I don’t think it would be very… erotic, by any means.
West: No kidding! And today, you know what Swift was up to? She went on The View, and Barbara Walters and Joy Behar and the rest of that crew are all like “Aww, that mean old Kanye West” and stuff, asking her questions like “Where did you find the strength to perform after that?” I mean, really, Tom, after what? And here’s Swift, going on and on about all the love and support she got backstage and everybody Tweeting about it like it was Osama bin Laden invading Manhattan with an army of suicide bombers or something! And she’s like, “Oh, I’ve got to thank all the people who were looking out for me” like I’m the big, bad gangsta guy who intimidated poor, sweet little old her! And then that big fat old skanky blimp Whoopi Goldberg says “If Kanye is watching, I think he’ll know what to do,” like I’m supposed to grovel at Swift’s feet or whatever, you know? Damn it, Tom, the simple fact of the matter is, there’s no comparison! None whatsoever, and Beyoncé flat-out got robbed!
Tom: I hate to mention this, Kanye, but it looks like Beyoncé started trying to make it up to Taylor Swift almost as soon as you pulled that mike out of her hand and told everybody Beyoncé deserved that award.
West: Really? I can’t believe it!
Tom: Not only that, there’s something else you should know – a Hitler’s Reaction video is already out.
West: Oh, my God, you can’t be serious!
Tom: Serious as a heart attack, my friend, and it’s got Hitler in das Führerbunker with the subtitles rolling…
West: Jesus H. Christ! How many of those things are out there now?
Tom: Hundreds, and most of them aren’t nearly this good. The one I’m talking about is really high quality. It’s only been up for about two hours, and already it’s got over three thousand views. When Hitler hears that Taylor won, he does that famous reaction shot where he takes off his glasses, and then he says “If you voted for Pink, Katy, Kelly or Swift, leave now.”
West: Oh, crap! No kidding?
Tom: It gets worse. The next thing Hitler says is “How the hell did this happen? ‘Single Ladies’ was the best video ever made!” And unfortunately, that’s almost a direct quote…
West: From me!
Tom: Then Hitler says “Do you think Taylor Swift could wear a one-piece bathing suit and do what Beyoncé did?”
West: He does? Holy Mary’s blood-soaked tampons! I’m toast!
Tom: At least you’re not alone. I don’t know what it is lately, but there’s sure plenty of it going around. That Representative Joe Wilson character, you, President Obama, even Serena Williams. You figure somebody could, ah, you know, actually do that stuff she said she was going to do to that line judge with that tennis ball she had in her hand?
West: Believe me, Tom, it might take some, ah, leverage, and some stretching and it wouldn’t be pretty to watch, but if there’s anybody who could do those things to another woman with a tennis ball, it’s Serena Williams. She’s so tough, even I’m afraid of her! No, I will, in fact, go even farther than that – Biggie Smalls and Tupac Shakur were afraid of her when she was younger than Taylor Swift!
Tom: And not without good reason, I’m sure. Say, Kanye, did it ever occur to you that maybe, despite what you or I may think of Swift’s work, that it’s, well, more… shall we say, contemporary than what Beyoncé, or you, for that matter, are doing?
West: Care to explain that comment? Because I’m positive I don’t follow you.
Tom: Well, it’s like this. Say it was, oh, 1968, right, and you got, for example, Jimmy Hendrix, the Beatles, the Grateful Dead, music acts like that, okay, who are very popular and very happening. And here’s this dude, he’s still listening to Duke Ellington, Glenn Miller, Benny Goodman, Cab Calloway, Tommy Dorsey, Dizzy Gillespie and stuff like that, all of which was real big in 1939. What would you think of him?
West: I’d think he was some kind of superannuated cultural dinosaur, of course.
Tom: Right. Now, how long ago was rap music invented?
West: 1980. Damn! That was twenty-nine years ago!
Tom: Exactly the same period of time as there was between 1968 and 1939.
West: So it’s me and Beyoncé…
Tom: That are performing the 2009 equivalent of big band music, yes. You’re both experts in a pop culture genre that’s thirty years out of date.
West: Like Blondie, Air Supply, Elton John, the Commodores…
Tom: Queen, Billy Joel, the Captain and Tennille…
West: Smokey Robinson!
Tom: Styx!
West: Billy Preston!
Tom: K.C. and the Sunshine Band!
West: I think I’m going to be sick! Oh, no, actually, I’m sure I am…
Tom: Want to call back later when you feel better?
West: Yeah, I think maybe I will…
Tom: Okay, ‘bye!
West: Sure… later… wuuahaalp… Oh, [expletive]!
Tom: Drink some Coca Cola, it’ll settle your stomach.
West: Right, thanks… goodbye.