David Bouchier

money taxes
Image by Eric Perlin from Pixabay

The Federal tax deadline has been put back this year, which must please a lot of people. But the whole Kafkaesque system somehow seems less formidable than it once did, now we are living in a post-truth society where anyone can say any crazy thing and expect to be believed. Lies have been certified as truth at the highest level, which should make filling in the 1040 form much easier. The IRS, which in any case is overwhelmed by a backlog of tax returns, would surely never question our sincerely held beliefs about income and expenses, no matter how unlikely they seem.

Image by MorningbirdPhoto from Pixabay

April is the gateway to spring and also, appropriately, National Poetry Month. Poetry is a high art and an enormously important part of the Western intellectual tradition, but I must confess that, although I have a few favorite poets, I never became a dedicated reader. We were made to study poems at school, and to memorize and recite popular examples from an ancient book called Palgrave’s Golden Treasury. This was a painful experience for young boys, especially when the verses were of a romantic nature, as they often were.

letters
Image by Gerhard G. from Pixabay

The COVID epidemic has led to the clearing out of many basements, including ours. We’ve been conducting a sort of archaeological dig down there, and many historic artifacts have come to light, including some moldy old boxes containing letters — real letters.

Seth Wenig / AP

About a year ago, like most of you, I enjoyed my last live public event. It was a library talk about music and, in spite of ominous rumblings and warnings about the new virus, we had a good audience. Nobody was wearing a mask. We’ve been hearing many such stories around this one-year anniversary — the last family gathering, the last sociable dinner, the last haircut or the last long-distance flight. All our social relationships and interactions have become distant and obscure.

Gabe Raggio via Pixabay

Yesterday a whole hour of sleep was snatched away from us by the arbitrary imposition of so-called "daylight saving time." Not only do we suffer this annual act of daylight robbery, but we waste half of Sunday trying and failing to reset our impossibly complicated digital timepieces.

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