I Love You, Why Don't You Love Me?

During my recent trip to New Orleans, I happened upon the Star Trek Slot Machine at the Harrah's casino. It was all kinds of cool, aside from the part where it took my money. If I was really channelling my inner Kirk, I could have found a way to talk it into paying out. "Fact… you are a machine… that's meant to pay out… yet you are not paying out. Why? You've failed your primary directive. You're also meant to entertain… but with no payout… I'm not entertained. Failure number two!"

It's That Time of Year Again

Ten years ago or so, I did the Big-Easy-Con in New Orleans. I loved the show, due in no small part to it being run by Super Con Promoter Roger Price. It was a great show, and did well, but not well enough to continue, unfortunately. But I have nothing but fond memories of the show.

The New Orleans Tax People though, are a different matter. They've got the tactics and the charm of the Stormtroopers who raided Hoth. You need to get a seller's permit and file tax forms to set up at the show. Perfectly understandable. But that they demanded your tax bill be paid in cash at the end of the show. And they couldn't wait. I went upstairs to my room to get some change to pay them and then they were gone. I escaped New Orleans without paying, but then I sent them a check for the outstanding amount. A check they held on to for over six months, long enough for me to switch banks when my existing one closed up... and then they hit me with charges for that.

And they were really rude.

They also wouldn't let me fill out my own form. No, I had to dictate it to them. When you live on a street which takes its name from The Poem of Hiawatha, that's always dicey.

I haven't been to the Big Easy since 2000. That's something I need to rectify one of these years. I really enjoyed my time there. But every year, since my two con appearances, I get not one, but two tax forms from them.

One is apparently to Thom Zahler of Zahler Thom, the other is to Thom Faber Art Studio. Mr. Faber, no relation to the talented Rich Faber, has been so successful that he's gotten credit card applications, too. All of this because I, the guy with immaculate comic book handwriting, couldn't fill out his own form.

I'm not the only one, as I know other attendees who get our yearly junk mail from New Orleans. And I've written them to tell them to stop. They don't. So, how much money are they wasting sending out such notices?

All this as I've just found out that the California Board of Equalization has managed to lose my Sellers Permit forms for San Diego for the second year in a row, after being told my permit was mailed out a week ago. It does befoul one's mood.