Note this down, I’m not as smart as I look.

For example: I happened to be at the post office the other day. After some chit chat Ernest, the postal employee, learned I was mailing tax returns. He asked if I did taxes. I explained that no, I don’t, but my brother and dad do. He must not have been listening because he started asking me tax questions while tallying up my postage. I explained again that I really don’t know anything about tax preparation – just to be clear. Ernest, however, didn’t seem to mind, free advice is well, free, so he kept asking.

O-kay.  My conscience is clear. At this point, I’m just going to start answering.

You see, I’m one of those people who’s not afraid. Period. You want to ask me for advice after I’ve given you my I’m not qualified to answer disclaimer, go for it. You want advice? I’ll give you advice.

I’ve always imagined myself as the person who, if ever stuck in an apocalyptic survival situation, would be the one willing to perform triage surgery. If someone was dying and they needed to have a bullet or appendix removed and there was no one qualified to perform the surgery… I believe with all my heart that I’d step right up and just do it, medically qualified or not.

I figure if a person’s chances of survival are 0% without intervention, I can’t really do worse than that.

Not. Afraid.

Bad tax advice won’t kill you, but it could mess up your life.

Take note, if I’ve told you that I’m not qualified to answer, you should probably listen to me. I’m just not as smart as I look.

 

PS – I bounced the tax question off my brother and I was, not surprisingly, totally wrong.

You’ve been warned.