This week, The Funday Sunnies featuring Duncan takes a trip to the study hall of a college library:
 

 

 Some say that tutoring is a calling…these same people often find that they have to put their calling on hold.

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     As Droopy, the dog from the old MGM cartoons, would say, “hello, all you happy taxpayers”. Mr. Cousins was planning to put his ten thumbs to the keyboard this week to extol the genius of Vic Mizzy, the tunesmith who wrote the theme music for Green Acres and other television shows. Incidentally, did you know that the theme for The Addams Family was all sung by Vic Mizzy, via overdubbing, because he didn’t want to pay for professional singers? (The things you learn when you don’t really have the urge to learn them, huh folks?) On the dual theme of fiscal austerity and music, Cousins got sidetracked from his paean because he was, in the words of a long-forgotten ditty, deep in the heart of taxes. I’ll leave it to Sparky to explain the rest, because, frankly, I still can’t figure out what happened.

Uncle Fun

Sure…palm off th’ diffickult explanashuns on me. Forchunnitt’ly, folks, th’ explanashun ain’t too hard ta follow, if ya’ve got a M.B.A. frum Harvard Biz, an’ went ta th’ London Skool’a Eckanommicks. Ya see, Mister Kuzzents has bin havin’ tax trubbles, not on ackount’a th’ usuwall reason of his ineptitood with money, but b’cuz th’ new baby Ruby (hereinafter referred to as “Next Year’s Dedcution”) wuz yowlin’ so much that Mister an’ Missus Kuzzents cooden think straight ta fill out their returns. So, I offer’d ta do their taxes for ‘em, an’ sints I diddent hear them say “no” over Next Year’s Deduction cryin’, I went ahead an’ did it.

Honestly, I don’ see whut all the fuss about taxes is all about. All’s ya do iz go online wit’ th’ tax d’partmunt, type a few things in, click, an’ yer done. Th’ rest iz details—which iz whut th’ tax people hire ackountunts for, anyways. By followin’ a few simple common-cents rules’a thumb, you too can git th’ refund ya d’serve.

 

SPARKY'S TAX TIPS

by Sparky (me)

All Rights Reserved

-If ya can’t r’member whut ya got paid fer, an’ when, it ain’t income. Also, if ya dint get paid enuf, it ain’t either, ‘cuz yer still b’hind on th’ deal, so why should ya get taxed fer bein’ on th’ short end’a th’ money stick?

-If ya already spent it, it’ ain’t income neither, sints it ain’t “in” no more, it’s “out”.

-If ya bought anything retail, th’ sales tax counts as “tax already dedcuted”, and gets taken off yer payable. This also goes fer parkin’ tickuts, libary fines, pet registrashun, an’ yer electrick bill (itza monopoly, which makes it th’ govimmunt, in my estimashun).

-If ya ate at a rest’raunt an’ th’ food er service wuzzent too good, th’ tip counts azza charitbbul donashun.

-Likewise fer Chrissmuss cards an’ prezunts ya hadda send ta people ya don’t really like, er are at least indiffernt to.

-When in doubt, follow th’ principulls’ a trickle-down eckanommicks. Sints th’ govimmunt iz way, way richer’n you, at least some’a their money otta trickle in yer gen’rull direckshun.

So, I wuzzent s’prised that, by my reckunning, th’ govimmunt owed Mister Kuzzents somethin' in th’ neighburhood’a just under 1.7 million. Mister Kuzzents dint quite see things my way—an’ I can’t say as I’m entiyurely pleased wit’ him referrin’ ta me an’ Moose as “H an’ R Blockhead”.

(Neither am I. All I did was run to Staples for a fresh box of pencils when Sparky broke his last one. –Moose)

I also don’ get whut has Misterr Kuzzents so unnerv’d. If th’ Canadian tax d’partmunt is hirin’ extra auditurs this year, it’s only ta keep ‘em frum bein’ hired first by th’ Auditur Gen’rull. They’ll all be reassign’d when th’ joodishul inquiry inta govimmunt corrupshun starts.

Ya’d think someone who took so many hist’ry corses in collidge otta know how ta take th’ long view’a things, but Mister Kuzzents wuzzent inclin’d ta look beyond th’ here an’ now. He’s now inta his fourth day’a callin’ th’ tax d’partmunt an’ bein’ put on hold while they figger out where ta transfer his call. As fer me, I say sleeping documents lie, an’ just wait fer ‘em ta process his file. If worst comes ta worst, 1.7 million dollars’ll pay fer a heckuva good lawyer.

Sparky

P.S. If ya wanna hear about more tax problums (an’ who duzzent?), click on the blue linky-letters ta hear another one’a Mr. Feeble’s Fables. If ya like it, ya might wanna dial up Mr. Kuzzents c/o this blog, an’ see if ya can’t hire him ta do stuff like it for ya. Anything ta make his taxable income fer next year a little more than nil.

This week, The Funday Sunnies featuring Duncan ponders an imponderable:

 

 

It’s questions like this that make the Buddhist rod of discipline a necessary evil.



     This is Sparky and Moose’s contribution to the ongoing effort to raise the wherewithal necessary to secure a pre-sub-prime-crisis standard of living for the next generation of the Cousins family. As the elder generation of Cousinses settles into the routine of caring for a new baby, with its many little concerns such as finding Mrs. Cousins a fashionable sou’wester and slicker mac to repel spit-up milk, we, their cartoon friends, have set ourselves the task of tracking down sources of additional income to provide for the new addition.  

     Milady Madeira M’Dear offered to bring our variation on the old badger game out of retirement as a means of generating cash flow, but ethical qualms voiced in certain quarters (neither hers nor mine, I can tell you) put the kibosh on this scheme. M’Dear and I reserve the right to call on this old reliable method if all else fails.

     In the meantime, we’re pursuing several less promising ventures, all in the interest of an amusingly hypothetical precept called “it wouldn’t kill Mr. Cousins to get a paying job”. While I am an advocate (in theory) of this particular mode of materially supporting one’s loved ones, the particulars of the Cousins work history suggest that matching our subject with a suitable vocation poses something of a challenge. “Like walking backwards up a skyscraper made of oiled glass with banana-peel-soled shoes on” was the specific visual imagery Sparky chose to describe the challenge thus posed.

     Still, where there’s life there’s hope, and maybe even a paycheque into the bargain. M’Dear offered another suggestion, this one based on Mr. Cousins’ sterling career in the halls of ivy. The website for the university Cousins received his M.A. from has published a list of recent successful thesis defenses in his department. Much to everyone’s surprise, it was discovered that the institution which bestowed the title of Master of Arts upon the Cousins lad believes that the focus of his researches was The Gong Show, not, as it actually was, The Goon Show. There’s no point in dwelling too much on what this says about the esteem in which El Cousins, M.A. is held in academic circles, or about the relative merits of Spike Milligan, K.B.E. and Chuck Barris, N.T.T.S.O. (No Title to Speak of). I’ll simply concur with M’Dear, and say that Cousins should strike while the iron is hot, and go on the college lecture circuit, the better to distinguish Goon from Gong.

 

 

     As useful a public service as this is, I can’t help thinking that Arts Master Cousins’ talents would be more profitably directed toward some other field of gainful employment. Take advertising, for instance. With all the money that’s poured into publicity and market research, you’d think that our corporate citizenry would have it all down pat by now. And yet, products are routinely sold using slogans, copy and other bumf that make their writers come across as …how did my friend Frank the Alligator put it…? Oh, yes—dumber than a sack of hammers from the We’re So Dumb We Don’t Even Know What Either a Sack or a Hammer Looks Like Hardware Store.

     I found an example of this while conducting a routine test on the Cousins family shower for consistency of water temperature and pressure (no matter what anybody cares to say, three-quarters of an hour is the standard minimum allowable time to get a baseline on all the relevant parameters). I preface what I’m about to show you by saying that the shower gel I used is a good product—I might even go so far as to call it outstanding. What’s not outstanding is the grasp of…well, the only word I can think of is “reality”—displayed by the shower gel company’s ad department:

     Having spent most of my life at relatively low altitudes, I must confess that I’m not entirely familiar with what constitutes a reasonable demand to make of a mountain. Still, I’m fairly sure that dirt-and-odour-fighting protection wouldn’t rank too high on anybody’s list. Or maybe that is why Sir Edmund Hillary climbed Everest…he just didn’t feel fresh. I couldn’t say for sure.

     Here’s another gem: this one came in the mail two days ago from a theatre company I won’t name because the Cousins Family knows (and what’s more, likes) people associated with it. Behold how they’ve chosen to alert the general public to their upcoming season of thespian excellence:

 

     Very professional-looking…but very open to ridicule. Among the more obvious punchlines this image invites are “another season of bee-grade theatre” and “come listen to our actors drone on and on”. Without naming names, I’m going to go out on a limb and say that the theatre company in question would do better by replacing its ad agency with a think-tank composed of slightly backward six-year-olds. I’ll further propose that Madison Avenue Cousins, Esq. would provide superior ad-making service to the six-year-olds, at no appreciable increase in cost.

     Don’t believe me? I don’t blame you. (For one thing, the backward six-year-olds have the inside track on the ad business. It pays to be as much like the consumer as possible.) Still, in his odd moments when he’s not avoiding work, Mr. Cousins has left examples that he knows how to make an ad. Click on the link that says “Ads” (you just missed it…go back and click before it’s too late) for the audio evidence. If nothing else, they’re funny, which in advertising is half the battle won. I mention this on the off chance that anyone who works in the ad game (or knows someone who does) might meander by during a stroll through the Worldwide Web. Seriously—he has a home studio set-up, does his own production and voices, and he comes cheap…which is more than I can say for body wash that provides the dirt-and-odour-fighting protection of a mountain.

     Besides, his baby’s really quite cute, and could always use new clothes.

Uncle Fun

This week’s Funday Sunnies featuring Duncan is a study in psychology:

 

Of course, if you’re one of the people whose ideas and beliefs led to the never-ending mess we’re in, you qualify as a full-blown sociopath…R.I.P. and good riddance, Margaret Thatcher.

     We have an announcement.

     First, an apology for the lack of activity in this space during the past couple of weeks. They’ve been busy for all concerned, due to the new arrival.

     New arrival, you ask?

     Yes—new arrival. This past April 2, Mr. and Mrs. Cousins welcomed their daughter Ruby Frances Cousins into the world. Not wishing to bore the entire internet at one fell swoop, the proud parents have been sagely regulating the dissemination of photographs of their offspring. Nonetheless, they have consented to release an official portrait, executed at a fraction of his standard commission fee by The Fortress of Funitude’s house artist:

 

 

     Hm…perhaps the likeness isn’t everything it could be, but it’s the thought that counts.

(I claim artistick license…b’sides, she wooden sit still fer me. –Sparky)

     As an April 2nd baby, Ruby shares a birthday with such literary lights as Hans Christan Andersen and Emile Zola, as well as other pillars of the arts and culture—to wit, the surrealist painter Max Ernst, and renowned thespians Sir Alec Guinness and Buddy Ebsen (who figured in a recent posting which you can familiarize yourself with by clicking on these letters which are roughly the colour of Miss Ruby Cousins’ eyes).

     While the first-time mommy and daddy settle into their new roles, Sparky, Miss Moose, Milady Madeira M’Dear and I have been helping out around the sumptuously-appointed Casa dos Cousins (which is now technically Casa Tres Cousins, if you’re of a mind to keep your Spanish grammar up to snuff). Sparky’s generous offer to register little Ruby online with various government agencies was followed up by Miss Moose’s generous offer to call the customer service lines of these same government agencies, to correct the numerous typographical and factual errors brought on by Sparky’s enthusiasm and general laissez-faire attitude towards accuracy. M’Dear offered to use her magic so that Mrs. Cousins gave Brandy Alexanders during feeding time, the better to calm and soothe the baby, but this suggestion was rejected out of hand. M’Dear and I have had to content ourselves with the more mundane task of infant supervision in the interest of warding off our hosts’ fatigue.

 

     It’s a small price to pay for the chance to watch a new life begin. Having reached my platitude limit of one per day with that statement, I bid you all a fond but temporary adieu. If the sounds coming from the vicinity of Ruby’s crib are anything to go by, it’s changing time, which means I’m off to see what I can get Mama and Papa Cousins from the store. New parents need to experience some of the joys of new parenthood, after all.

Uncle Fun

This week, The Funday Sunnies featuring Duncan looks at the shape of economic things to come:

 

There’s a rumour going around that the EU is thinking of doing something like this to deal with the situation in Cyprus.