TAX SEASON
The internal revenue service hates this one weird method
The Pope called yesterday about my garage church. The actual Pope. From Italy.
This began 6 weeks back when my accounting professional Dmitri– who operates out of a storage unit and just communicates via Morse code– blinked at me: “Start a church. Any church. Internal revenue service doesn’t examine.”
So I established The Church of Compulsory Snoozes. Submitted the paperwork Tuesday. Held my first service Sunday in my garage, reviewing Netflix synopses aloud to establish doctrine. Just me, eleven situations of pandemic La Croix, and episode recaps.
However Brenda from next door listened to via the wall surfaces and turned up week 2 with covered dish and existential fear. “Your sermon regarding The Fantastic British Cooking Program truly talked with me,” she sobbed. “Paul Hollywood’s handshake standing for magnificent authorization? Life-altering.”
I would certainly been defining episode 4 while consuming string.
Week three: forty people stuffed into my garage. A person recorded my Netflix analyses into “The Spiritual Scrolls of Streaming.” An additional individual developed robes– in reverse Snuggies– which everyone found deeply symbolic.