Everyone likes to talk about grumpy old men.

Agreed, there’s a few.

I’m not one of them, regardless of what the wife says in one of those rare moments of anger completely misdirected in my direction.

But I call your attention to a fact you hardly hear about the old ladies.

Alright, don’t call them little old ladies.
They hate that.

Anyway, women of maturity are quite capable of grumpiness themselves.

Ever notice it?
Do this, don’t do that, go here, stay away from there, get this, leave that alone, wipe your mouth, take a shower.

An example, to set the stage, so to speak.

Saturday the wife and I took our two dogs to the vet.

Something like this is a major deployment.

Get the dog carrier, clean the carrier, get one dog in, chase and catch the second one and stuff this squirming mass of fur in with the first one, put it in the back of the car.

“Turn it around.”
“Why?”
“So they can see us.”
“All they’ll see is the back of our heads. This way they can look out the rear window.” “Turn it around.” <the look>

A good husband like me automatically goes into “Yes dear” mode.

It’s an instinctual survival mechanism.

My scientific theory is little old ladies get bossy.

To be termed scientific, a method of inquiry must be based on empirical and measurable evidence subject to specific principles of reasoning.

I have no real idea what that means but I suspect I did that.

That’s because the chief characteristic which distinguishes the scientific method from other methods of acquiring knowledge is that scientists seek to let reality speak for itself.

I think I did that too.

There should be a Nobel Prize in here for discovering this.

More scientific output…

The older men become – the more they get treated like the wife’s kid.

Seriously.

I’m only pointing out a major revelation that came to me early in the morning while I was in the bathroom.

It’s where I do my best thinking.

Here’s the proof that takes this from theory to award winner.

Look around – with most older couples the guy sits there and the wife is doing all the talking.

He nods, she’s in charge.

It’s the way of the world.

If he starts to say something she jumps in and finishes the sentence.

Then there’s…

“Wipe your mouth, you got food on your chin”
“You missed a button on your shirt”
“I think we should go now. There might be traffic”
“Why are you turning here? I’d go the other way”
“I told you we should have done it”

And that’s why old men are grumpy.

I’m off to pack my bag for Sweden.

It’s amazing the stuff you can find on the Internet while cruising around while bored out of your mind.

I’m not talking naked pictures.

Did you know today is the 100th anniversary of the U.S. income tax code?

How about that?

Happy birthday income tax.
Excuse me if I don’t wish you many more.

Still, it’s nice to find something older than me that’s still beating people up.

A good analogy is the 8-pound baby is now 3-tons and a bully.

And did you know in 1913, the tax code was 400 pages?

If that doesn’t seem like a lot, try this:

Last year the tax code was 73,608 pages.

Now you know what the politicians do in Washington to look busy.

Actually, my bored-out-of-my-brain research shows, the first income tax was enacted in 1892 to pay for the Civil War.

Anyone making between $300 to $10,000 a year paid a rate of 3 percent.
That tax ended soon after the war.

That blows to hell what I’ve been saying for years – there is no such thing as a temporary tax.

Moving to 1894, Congress passed the first peacetime income tax law, but a year later the Supreme Court threw it out, saying it was unconstitutional.

I guess they had more sense back then.

Turns out that was based on a technicality and also the court said Congress had the right to impose a direct income tax and that led to the passage of the 16th Amendment.

I take back what I said about having more sense.

And just to completely ruin your day – the government will collect just under $5 trillion in taxes this coming year.

Compare that to $5.4 billion in 1920 and $43 billion in 1945.

Happy birthday.
Gimme my present back.