As 2017 winds to a close, major tax reform legislation is working its way through Congress.
The bill is still changing by the hour, deals are still being cut, winners and losers are still being picked — in short, the sausage is far from made. We should know very soon if some version is going to make it to the President’s desk.
We’ve always prided ourselves in making things easier for our clients: do the heavy lifting, break down the complex, and keep it as simple as possible.
So, while we keep our focus on the legislature, and the myriad of regulatory agencies that make your business life so interesting, we will dedicate this year-end issue to the joy of the holiday season and a celebration for making it through a most peculiar year.
Thus, this issue will have no stories about new FASB standards, no IRS rulings or SEC enforcements – just a simply stated wish from us to you for: good health, good fortune and good times.
Oh, and we provided a small offering below that we hope will make you smile.
So gather the family, throw another log on the fire, and enjoy this updated version of a classic Christmas poem.
Updated version of a classic Christmas poem
‘TWAS THE FIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a computer mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas would Uber his way there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of X-box still danced in their heads.
And mamma on her Kindle and I sending Snaps,
We suspended our screens for our brief evening naps.
When throughout the whole house there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter.
There on the table circuits fluttered and flashed,
With surges of energy I feared they might crash.
Alexa and Siri were in a battle, a technological fight,
Each determined to win, and prove they were right.
Ordering pizza delivery and blaring music selections
There was no way to stop them, they heard no directions.
Outside, the moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
Inside raged a battle beyond human control,
Siri weaponized our Roomba, which was now on patrol.
But Alexa would not pause, and refused to retreat,
She would not give up, she refused to be beat.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a text from Cortana of an open store near.
In my robe and my slippers I dashed out for help,
To a convenience store rated three stars on Yelp.
I bought a mallet, a hammer, and some Lottos for luck,
This was my home and with me they’d better not……. fool around.
With an uninsured Lyft driver we sped home so quick,
I knew in a moment there stood St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his orders they came,
And he whistled and shouted, and called them by name.
“Now, Alexa! Now Siri! Now Roomba and Google,
I’ll have you know it’s also Hanukkah and mamma’s made Kugel.
So stop all the racket, you’re no more than kitsch,
Your masters Bezos, Brin and Gates are more than just rich.
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all,
I’ve filled stockings with Bitcoin and values may fall.
Next stop Congress and lumps of coal for those naughty,
Couldn’t keep their hands to themselves and exposing their body.”
St. Nick dressed in fur, from his head to his foot,
His clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
For pennies on the dollar, a Toys R Us bag on his back,
He cursed brick & mortar and his overweight sack.
With that he sprang to his Uber, and gave out a whistle,
And away they drove off like the down of a thistle.
With thoughts of logistics, perhaps a delivery drone,
He exclaimed: “Happy Christmas to all, OK Google, navigate home!”
– Stuart Orbach
Early to bed and early to rise probably indicates unskilled labor.
By working faithfully eight hours a day you may eventually get to be boss and work twelve hours a day.
There’s an enormous number of managers who have retired on the job.
A meeting is an event at which the minutes are kept and the hours are lost.