Let's Turn the Tax Code Into a Reality TV Show
04/
01/
2004
by Harvey King
When I told my accountant I was writing a column about
taxes, he demanded that I first warn readers that I
know absolutely nothing about taxes. So, you've been
warned.
However, I believe I know a thing or two about taxes.
For one thing, I know the way taxes are collected makes
no sense. I'm not talking about whether or not the
government needs revenue to fix streets, maintain
long-range nuclear submarines and pay for those people
who scan luggage at the airport. That part, I
understand. Rather, my confusion is about how and why
certain activities are taxed while others aren't.
For example (and it will become quickly apparent why my
accountant thinks I'm a complete idiot) I don't
understand why I'm told I only have to pay taxes once
on the earnings of my Sub-Chapter "S" corporation. How
come I only pay once if the check I'm writing to the
IRS is coming from my personal checking account which,
as far as I can tell, only has money in it that has
been taxed before? I've counted it up, and that's
paying taxes twice. (Please, no mail. My accountant
tells me that I'm only paying once, even if I don't
want to believe it.)
Another thing that's messed up about our tax system is
that it's too regressive, no, wait, not regressive
enough. I'm sorry, I keep forgetting. All I know is, I
know a lousy tax when I see one. And, like everyone
else I know, I can tell you when we should drive three
hours to purchase groceries in the next state to save a
few dollars and how many tons a Tahoe weighs.
Everyone knows the tax code is incomprehensible. So why
don't our lawmakers just give up and start over? Why
don't they just say, "Taxes stink, no one likes them,
everyone can figure out how to avoid them ... so
let's just have some fun."
They should adopt my tax plan: The Intentionally Random
System. Under my plan, the way people are taxed would
change each month based on randomly selected
suggestions sent in from around the country. On a live
TV program at the beginning of each month, the
Secretary of the Treasury would draw a card from a big
tumbler. After pausing to read it, the Secretary would
look into the camera and say something like, "This
month's tax system is sent in by Mildred Clonts of
Pittsburgh. She is requiring each of us to pay 2 cents
for every nail used in the construction of our house or
apartment. And, she says, if you don't have a house or
apartment, your tax will be based on the number of
times your car's tires revolve while traveling one
mile."
Throughout the next month, TV cameras would follow
citizens around watching them figure out how to remove
as many nails from their homes as possible without it
crashing in and seeking advice from mechanics on
whether they should inflate or deflate their car's
tires.
Each night, the Treasury Secretary would come on TV to
report how much nail tariff or tire revolution tax was
flowing into the nation's coffers.
By the time the nail lobby and the tire lobby had
figured out how to kill the tax, it would be the first
day of the next month and the Treasury Secretary would
be drawing a card announcing that the tax system for
the next 30 days would be calculated on a complex
formula based on the number of gallons of water some
guy in Sacramento uses to water his lawn.
It all makes sense to me. However, as my accountant is
quick to point out, what do I know about taxes?
This article originally appeared in the April/May 2004 issue of MyBusiness magazine.

