Around 150 years or so ago, President Lincoln found it necessary to hire a private investigator named Alan Pinkerton for protection - marking the beginning of the Secret Service. Since that date, Federal police authority has grown in depth, scope, and to a large number of multi-letter agencies - CID, OSI, NIS, FBI, CIA, INS, IRS, DEA, BATF, etc. Recently, due in large part to the September 11th tragedy, we now we have the “Federal Air Transportation Airport Security Service.”
I can see it now, just visualize… highly trained men and women… in their black outfits… with agency initials in large white letters across their backs: “FATASS” - I feel safer already, don’t you?
Part of the Dream Weave Walk 1999-2007
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Showing posts with label IRS. Show all posts
Showing posts with label IRS. Show all posts
Joke 55: Your Government at your Service
A man walks into the market followed by his 10-year-old son. The kid is holding a one dollor coin between his lips. As they walk through the market, someone bumps into the boy and the coin goes straight into his mouth and lodges in his throat. The boy immediately starts choking and going blue in the face, and the dad starts panicking, shouting and screaming for help.
A middle-aged, fairly unnoticeable man in a gray suit is sitting at a coffee bar in the market reading his newspaper and sipping a cup of coffee.
At the sound of the commotion, he looks up, puts his coffee cup down on the saucer, neatly folds his newspaper, and places it on the counter. He gets up from his seat and makes his unhurried way across the market. Reaching the boy (who is still standing, but only just) the man carefully takes hold of the kid and squeezes him very firmly. After a few seconds, the boy convulses violently and coughs up the one dollor coin, which the man catches in his free hand.
Releasing the boy, the man hands the coin to the father and walks back to his seat in the coffee bar without saying a word.
As soon as he is sure that his son has suffered no lasting ill effects, the father rushes over to the man and starts effusively thanking him.
The man looks embarrassed and brushes off the father's thanks. As he is about to leave, the father asks one last question:
"I've never seen anybody do anything like that before - it was fantastic! What are you, a surgeon or something like that?"
"Oh, good heavens, no" the man replies "I work for the IRS."
A middle-aged, fairly unnoticeable man in a gray suit is sitting at a coffee bar in the market reading his newspaper and sipping a cup of coffee.
At the sound of the commotion, he looks up, puts his coffee cup down on the saucer, neatly folds his newspaper, and places it on the counter. He gets up from his seat and makes his unhurried way across the market. Reaching the boy (who is still standing, but only just) the man carefully takes hold of the kid and squeezes him very firmly. After a few seconds, the boy convulses violently and coughs up the one dollor coin, which the man catches in his free hand.
Releasing the boy, the man hands the coin to the father and walks back to his seat in the coffee bar without saying a word.
As soon as he is sure that his son has suffered no lasting ill effects, the father rushes over to the man and starts effusively thanking him.
The man looks embarrassed and brushes off the father's thanks. As he is about to leave, the father asks one last question:
"I've never seen anybody do anything like that before - it was fantastic! What are you, a surgeon or something like that?"
"Oh, good heavens, no" the man replies "I work for the IRS."
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