Political Satire: Having trouble surviving these times? You’re not alone. Join us in columnist John F. Di Leo’s exploration of an alternate universe, where we imagine the impossible:
Joe Buckstop, an aging, corrupt old fool, somehow becomes president in his basement, and every night, an aide has to bring him his soup and discuss the events of the day as he prepares to receive his nightly meds…
Note: We are sharing approximately every other story from Evening Soup with Basement Joe, and are now sampling Volume Three’s ninety chapters. In today’s episode from the first year of his regime, his cook discusses a few personal tax questions.
Taxes and Memories and Chicken Moneybags Soup
Dateline: September 26. Begin Transcript:
“Hey boss, you awake?”
“Huh? What’s that?”
“Just checking. Don’t want to hobble all the way down there and find that you’re not here, or asleep, that’s all, boss.”
“Who’s there?”
“Just the Heart of Oak Platoon’s culinary division, boss.”
“Oh boy… that sounds serious… Hang on… wait a minute… let me, umm… let me call my lawyer… You can’t arrest me…. I uhh… I’ll write an executive order forbidding it!”
“Oh, settle down, boss, it’s only me.”
“Who? Who are you?”
“Can’t you tell by the thump-thumping on the stairs, boss? Nobody else you know climbs stairs like me and my bum leg, boss!”
“Oh… right… I recognize that sound… right… umm…. you’re, uh… Long John Silver?”
“Oh for heaven’s sake. I’m your cook, boss! I’ve been your cook for years! I’m here with your soup, boss!”
“Oh. Where’s that kid?”
“What kid, boss?”
“The one who brings me my soup.”
“Ah. Rocky. Right. Well, sir, he didn’t even make it as long as his brother did.”
“His brother?”
“Russell Rhoades, sir. Russell made it a few weeks, I think Rocky only made it two… He called me this morning and said he couldn’t take it anymore. Something about reins and whips, sir. Did you have one of those conversations last night where you were even more irritating than usual, sir?”
“Come on, Man!”
“Yes, well…. I figured as much. I talked to the agency this morning. They’ll see if they can rustle up somebody for tomorrow. In the meantime, boss, I’m your huckleberry.”
“But you brought me soup, right?”
“Yes, Mister Appreciation, I brought you your soup. Found an interesting recipe today, called Chicken Moneybags Soup, sir.”
“That sounds great!”
“I thought it might appeal to you, boss. It’s a kind of typical Chinese broth, with green onions and water chestnuts and chopped chicken… and it has little shumais in it.”
“It has shoes in it? I’m not eating anything with shoes in it! And they say I’M the one who’s not right in the head! Have you lost your marbles?”
“Oh brother. Shumai, sir. Come on, you’ve spent enough time in Asia in fifty years of government funded junkets, you’ve GOT to know what shumai is, boss. Don’t you?”
I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“They call them dumplings, boss. We wouldn’t, but they do in Asia. They’re little bundles, a lump of sausage, usually, wrapped up in a won ton wrapper. This kind of soup has them cook up the shumai in the soup. And they look like people imagine moneybags to look, sir.”
“Oh. Weird.”
“Well, you may say so, boss, but a billion Chinese think it’s delicious.”
“So what? What do I care what a billion Chinese think of anything?”
“Oh, right, boss. Sorry. I forgot that you only care what a certain dozen Chinese think. That Beijing politburo certainly has a long, long reach, boss.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Hey, aren’t there any crackers tonight?”
“Of course there are, sir. Right here, sir. Bowl of soup, bowl of crackers, a stack of napkins and three children’s soup spoons. Should be everything you need, right, boss?”
“You going back upstairs now?”
“Thinking about it, boss. I’ve also been meaning to check out some things in the basement pantry. Now that I’ve hobbled down here, I’m thinking I might make the most of my time and do my stock check of the pantry.”
“I don’t understand a word you said.”
“You asked if I was going back upstairs right away, and I said I was sticking around a bit, boss. I’d love to at least stick around long enough to see what you think of my Chicken Moneybags Soup.”
“Oh. Well. It’s good, it’s umm… These things, these things right here… what are they called… oh come on, man… you know the thing! What are they called?”
“Shumai, boss.”
“Oh. Neat. Good stuff.”
“Thank you, boss. So how’s your Sunday going so far?”
“I wish it was gone.”
“Oh? What’s wrong, sir? I heard you playing your video games earlier, boss… I assumed you were fine down here.”
“Come on, man! They’re going after me for tax evasion now! Isn’t that sick?”
“Well, sir, I don’t know… I must admit I’ve always wondered how you managed to live in all these mansions on a Senator’s salary, sir.”
“Hey! My wife works too, you know! She’s a Doctor!”
“And I’m a cook, sir. Let’s get a fireman and a professor and start a band.”
“Hey! She really IS a doctor! I’ve seen her doctorate!”
“And I’ve seen cartoons wrapped around sticks of bubble gum that had more practical value than her doctorate. But that’s not the point, sir. I only just mention it, sir, because she’s not the kind of doctorate that makes people rich, sir. Not rich enough to afford mansions, sir.”
“We write a lot of books, you know. And speeches. We give speeches.”
“Who writes them, sir?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I have staff.”
“I see. Has the IRS been by to ask you about these books, boss?”
“What good would it do? I don’t know anything about it… I have accountants for that. They figure it all out. I just sign the forms.”
“I see. I wonder how the investigators would feel if you answered them that way, boss?
“Oh, they know. They must know. That’s how people do it. We hire people to do our taxes, because they understand the rules and we don’t. It works. Creates thousands and thousands of jobs for tax accountants, you know.”
“Well, boss, a lot of people are saying that a lot of your methods weren’t legal, boss.”
“Nobody can understand this stuff!”
“Well, that’s the interesting thing, boss. It seems that some of the confusing statutes that you took advantage of, which everyone expects you to deflect by saying you don’t understand it, are bills that you voted for when you were in Congress, boss.”
“Come on, man!”
“You served in there for three and a half decades before moving up to veep. I think the public has the right to assume that if anyone knows what a Subchapter S corp is, and was always meant to be for, it would be you, boss.”
“Look, I didn’t write that kind of legislation, I never understood it… I just voted on it, that’s all! You can’t expect a guy to understand all that complicated tax code stuff!”
“Well, boss, I can’t speak for the whole country, but I really have a feeling that the public would expect exactly that, sir. I think the public assumes that if they vote somebody into public office, that person takes a specific interest in everything that affects his constituents, boss, especially when a mistake causes a half a million dollar tax dodge, boss.”
“Tax dodge? Come on, man! That’s not fair! I didn’t know!”
“Well, neither did your voters, sir. All forty or fifty million of them, boss.”
“Come on, man!”
“Forty or fifty million voters, sir, that’s something to be proud of. Most candidates, you know, most candidates would’ve been happy to lose with that big a number… but not you, boss. But anyway, back to the tax thing, sir. So apparently, you and the Doctor set up some kind of a subchapter S corp and ran all your speeches and book royalties through it, saving a cool half million over just two years.”
“I didn’t set anything up. Accountants, just, umm, accountants handle all that stuff.”
“Do you recall signing them, boss?”
“Well, yeah, sure. Sign things all day long.”
“And do you remember every single document you signed?”
“Well, no, who does?”
“Boss, any chance you’ll sell tickets when the investigators finally get here. I really want to see that interview.”
“What interview?”
“When the chickens finally come home to roost, boss.”
“Why would they do that?”
“Maybe because your tax accountant laid an egg, sir.”
Copyright 2021-2024 John F Di Leo
Excerpted from “Evening Soup with Basement Joe, Volume Three: How Is This Not Over Yet?”, available in paperback or eBook, exclusively on Amazon.
John F. Di Leo is a Chicagoland-based international transportation and trade compliance professional and consultant. President of the Ethnic American Council in the 1980s and Chairman of the Milwaukee County Republican Party in the 1990s, his book on vote fraud (The Tales of Little Pavel) and his political satires on the current administration (Evening Soup with Basement Joe, Volumes I, II, and III), are available in either eBook or paperback, only on Amazon.
His newest nonfiction book, “Current Events and the Issues of Our Age,” was just released on July 1, and is also available, in both paperback and Kindle eBook, exclusively on Amazon.
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