I got my taxes done. I'd started at Turbo, where I'd done them the past several years. I balked at the ridiculous fee, and the inability to apply state return funds toward it. Ditto at H & R. Tax Act was reasonable, $15. Still, I was not happy having to pay for so paltry a return. I tried paper and pencil, but the library had no instruction booklet for the state return and no return envelopes. One thing about e-filing - one doesn't have to worry about getting the address wrong or having a parcel lost in the mail. I caved. I come out ahead, but I still don't like it. In this age where Americans seem so divided on the big issues, I bet most would agree that the tax process must be made easier. Simple returns should not be so annoying. I wouldn't hold my breath on it changing during my lifetime.
I've watch the first three episodes of ABC's much ballyhooed The River. In the words of immortal wrestling heel Classie Freddie Blassie: "Big deal." It's not bad. It just hasn't been anything special. Maybe my expectations were too high, given that Steven Spielberg is serving as executive producer.
I had an interesting conversation with Big Al, local beat poet, on what some refer to as the Black Holocaust, the number of Africans killed during slavery. It is estimated that twelve million were transported from the 15th to the 19th century. It is believed that ten to twenty percent died in transit. Most went to Brazil. The real carnage took place during raiding parties on the dark continent, where the guess is six million were killed. Many blacks were killed by blacks. That's over the course of 400 years. Six million Jews were killed during World War Two alone. Jews were among slave owners and traffickers. Today, the only slave holders left in the world are black Muslims in Africa. And we all know what happened to the indians here, the unfortunates in Stalin's way in the Soviet Union, the Chinese murdered and raped by the Japanese, and Mao's carnage during the Cultural Revolution. Human history is sometimes ugly. There's plenty of blame to go around. My buddy Bob Rubenstein is angered by such things and addresses them in his writing. I shrug and say: "Let's do something to reverse today's slavery or move on." Arguing about blame will accomplish nothing. The descendants of slaves here and in Brazil have accomplished a great deal and have a lot to be proud of. And, like the rest of us, have some things to be ashamed of.
I thank the gentleman who bought a book in Russian, and the Merry Mailwoman, who overpaid for three Janet Evanovich thrillers, in a session of the floating bookshop curtailed after a half hour by rain.
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