It was autumn, and the Indians on the remote reservation asked their new Chief if the winter was going to be cold or mild. Since he was an Indian Chief in a modern society, he had never been taught the old secrets, and when he looked at the sky, he couldn't tell what the weather was going to be. 

Nevertheless, to be on the safe side, he replied to his tribe that the winter was indeed going to be cold and that the members of the village should collect wood to be prepared. 

But also being a practical leader, after several days, he got an idea. He went to the phone booth, called the National Weather Service and asked, "Is the coming winter going to be cold?" "It looks like this winter is going to be quite cold indeed," the meteorologist at the weather service responded. So the Chief went back to his people and told them to collect even more wood in order to be prepared.

One week later, he called the National Weather Service again. "Is it going to be a very cold winter?" "Yes," the man at National Weather Service again replied, "it's going to be a very cold winter."

The Chief again went back to his people and ordered them to collect every scrap of wood they could find. Two weeks later he called the National Weather Service again. "Are you absolutely sure that the winter is going to be very cold?" 
"Absolutely," the man replied. "It's going to be one of the coldest winters ever. "How can you be so sure?" the Chief asked.
The weatherman replied - "The Indians are gathering firewood like crazy"!

Mike Smith

Internal Revenue Service Theme Song 

Tax his cow, Tax his goat; 
Tax his pants, Tax his coat; 
Tax his crop, Tax his work; 
Tax his ties, Tax his shirt; 
Tax his chew, Tax his smoke 
Teach him taxing is no joke. 
Tax his tractor, Tax his mule; 
Tell him, Taxing is the rule. 
Tax his oil, Tax his gas 
Tax his notes, Tax his cash 
Tax him good and let him know, 
That after taxes, he has no dough. 
If he hollers, Tax him more; 
Tax him till he's good and sore. 
Tax his coffin, Tax his grave, 
Tax his sod in which he's laid. 
Put these words upon his tomb, 
"Taxes drove him to his doom." 
After he's gone, we won't relax. 
We'll still collect inheritance tax.

Mike Smith