It has come down to that time of year again, when taxes are coming due in a month and a half or less. And you know what they say, “You can avoid practically anything but death and taxes.” Sometimes I wish “they” would just shut the hell up about it.
My tax situation is perilous still. I am on a fixed-income pension, bankrupt, and having marriage problems because my wife is frustrated that she can’t squeeze any more money out of my worthless old hide.
The problem stems from the Trump tax-cut of 2017. In order to give his rich Filthyrichican cronies thousands of dollars back in a single tax year, he made the horrible bill retro-active. And, of course, they had to cut loopholes in the tax law, which obviously had to include the reduced tax rate that pension earners traditionally pay. When he multiplied the under-withholding thing times 12 months, he ended up costing me $1,400 that I did not have to spend. I had to pay it off in installments, give up some of the grocery budget, and kiss off the chance of ever going on insulin just because I have the welfare-queen trait of being diabetic.
So, I got it paid off in December of 2018. The IRS said be sure I call my representative in the Texas Teacher Retirement System, because this was their fault. Which I did. An adjustment was made to my withholding back in February of 2018. So, now, at tax time, my tax estimate is that I will owe $1,300 again this year. My TRS representative assured me that this was not their fault. They say they interpreted the new tax tables to the best of their abilities. It is apparently the IRS’s fault. And I made an estimate of what I will need to withhold for the next tax year and changed it all again, hoping at the very least they don’t double what I owe next year, which they most certainly will. And next time it will be my fault.
I added death to the title of this rant because that is a very real possibility when you consider that I will have to go back to Uber driving for pennies on the hour to avoid financial collapse. And I had stopped Uber driving because, after the accident last August, I have not felt well enough to do it blood-sugar-wise. I may finally pass out at the wheel and kill myself and any possible passengers too. At least, if that happens, my wife will finally have to pay a tax bill out of her own funds. She might miss out on a trip to Europe or something.
Now I must get busy and earn some money and take this hard experience as a source of comedy. It has to be worth a few yuks, right?