"The girl I want for my head- of-household tax deduction is lovely from the inside."
YOU KNOW, I lead a rich, rewarding life. As Oregon's anti-tax Batman, I've battled the sinister forces that pinch Oregonians' pocketbooks to fund nefarious schools and sinister health-care programs. My radio show on KKGT interrupts the sleep of thousands of Oregonians every weekday morning. My soon-to-be-released double album of cowboy spirituals, sung with the St. Sebastian Boys' Choir, promises to catapult me to pop stardom, and my best-selling line of anti-union posters and mugs for the blue-collar workplace secures my financial stability.
But sometimes I feel like Big Government stole a large percentage of my heart away. There's a hole in my heart, a raw, gaping hole that must be plugged... plugged with love. By you.
Somewhere in the beautiful state of Oregon there is a girl waiting just for me. I believe this with all my heart--because, you see, I too am waiting... waiting for her. Even though I haven't even laid eyes on her, I know her demographics by heart. Because this is the girl I love; the girl who will make me the head of her household--my Dependent.
May I tell you about her? I want to very much, because deep down inside of me a small voice keeps whispering, "Maybe she's out there among the Mercury's millions of single heterosexual female readers! Maybe she's reading these words right now! And maybe she'll write and tell you all about herself--and you'll know, you'll just know, the two of you were meant to file jointly."
I know who she is. I know what she looks like, where she lives, her mean household income, and her stands on various issues. She's blonde, but also brunette. She's 18 years old, or she's 29 and a half. She's Republican, or Libertarian, or even independent. She's fiscally conservative, but socially liberal.
Are you confused? You needn't be. What I'm saying is that it's unimportant whether she's tall or short, whether her eyes are blue or green or brown, whether she's stunningly attractive or just attractive. What I see in my dreams--and what I look for at rallies, city council meetings, and court appearances--is a special face that glows with honesty, integrity, grace, obedience, and thriftiness.
The girl I want for my head-of-household tax deduction is lovely from the inside. She is sensitive, and understanding. Let me repeat that: she is understanding. To an un-elected politician, an understanding girl is a very precious commodity. Political life is a demanding, hectic, and sometimes cruel mistress, and I need an enormously understanding dependent who doesn't mind that I have a mistress, and that I may spend a lot more time with this mistress than with her.
The girl who will occupy that special place on my IRS forms will be in love with me, Bill Sizemore, the person, as well as Bill Sizemore, the statesman and anti-tax crusader. There is a great difference between the public Bill and the personal, warm, friendly Bill. For instance: While the public Bill is able to raise hundreds of thousands of dollars from his pool of political donors with just a few phone calls, the private Bill sometimes needs a little bit of help making ends meet at the end of the month. That's why my dependent must be financially secure--self-employed, perhaps, or some kind of heiress. She will accept my important Christian (and Republican) role as the breadwinner in our family, but after the bread is won, she will contribute cheese, ham, beer, pretzels, flatware, china, and a tasteful flower arrangement.
Last, but by no means least, the girl who is waiting for me is hard-working. For to be part of my life, she must also be part of my endless series of signature-gathering initiatives. She must be willing, as I once was, to stand on cold street corners, attracting voters with provocative soundbites while avoiding unproductive discussions with troublesome liberals about details and facts. She must be eager to author (and pay for) Voter's Pamphlet statements in support of my measures--our measures--and to spend a lot of time on the phone.