We were working on the “Weather Report” chart we use weekly to keep track of what is going on around us. It is deliberately intended to be non-partisan to avoid rhetorical attacks on people who seem to intentionally be doing many of the things that pass without comment. As a point of order, we try to at least note the remarkable things as they go past. Regrettably, there are so many that they simply slide away into the great vortex caused by the continuing state of emergencies.

For example, we are supposed to be concerned about a land invasion happening now in Europe. There is a lot to be alarmed about that, and we now have some earnest-looking men and women in positions of authority who only heard muffled comments about European wars from their grandparents. If they could be understood. They speak with authoritative airs about things they apparently know nothing about Even the crazy aging Boomers around the Fire Pit could say, with equal authority, “We have tried that before and it didn’t work. And it hurt.”

But this is bigger than the inter-generational turmoil that goes with the passage of time. DeMille reminded us at the morning staff meeting that we had been cautioned by the folks in Legal to stay away from critical commentary on anyone in authority. “We have been warned. I trust you will temper the remarks appropriately.”

This is an odd week, to be sure, and it may have us a bit off stride.
But we are going to try. Splash was arguing with Buck, though. That is their normal means of communication.

You would think that as a retired and occasionally homeless individual, Splash’s taxes would be fairly simple. Buck is a proponent of fairness and honesty, so while they start from a place of agreement, things occasionally veer off the rails. Melissa was seated close by the window near them. She normally takes a receptive position, enjoying the topics under consideration. But this morning, she had her own set of issues that crossed all those lines.

“We lost the Republic and it wasn’t even reported when it happened.” Buck and Splash paused and looked at her in surprise.

“What do you mean, Sweet Lady?” they asked in unison.

“Remember that $600 thing that came up a while ago?” she said, leaning in.

Buck nodded affirmatively. “Yeah. The administration was going to beef up IRS auditing by expanding the agency’s funding and power. It announced that banks would be required to turn over to the IRS bank account information for all accounts holding more than $600.”

Buck smiled. “Yeah, that caused quite a fuss. More than 40 trade associations raised hell about it because it violated customer privacy and would have created an expensive and elaborate reporting requirement.”

“I am glad that didn’t get passed,” said Splash. “But they did it anyway.”

“What do you mean?” asked Melissa.

“The $600 is right there in the 1040 instructions. If you have transactions more than fifty bucks a month with anyone, you are supposed to be filling out a 1099 and send it to them.” Splash was clearly peeved.

“What is a 1099 form?” Melissa asked with concern.

Splash frowned and Buck smiled again, assuming his professorial aspect, saying: “A 1099 is an Internal Revenue Service (IRS) form used to report income received through sources other than employment. They call them ‘information forms.’ They serve as a record of income given to someone by a person for whom they are not formally employed.”

“You mean the groundskeeper? Or those ladies that clean out the farmhouse once a month?”

“If it is more than fifty bucks a month and totals more than $600 a year, we are supposed to be filling one out and sending them a 1099 in a timely fashion so they can accurately file their taxes.”

“But wouldn’t that affect all the old business we did in cash without any help from the Government?”

“Bingo,” said Buck. “We just discovered a new felony we may be guilty of without ever hearing about it.”

“Why on earth are they rooting around in our wallets and purses?”

“Somebody has to pay for all that free money they printed.”

“But they told us it was free!”

DeMille looked over at the clock and shook his head. He made a grand gesture, accustomed to his leadership position. “There ain’t no such thing as a free lunch.”

Then we wondered if we could borrow some, since lunch seemed like a swell idea.

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