Maybe I shouldn’t admit this, but what the heck, it has been nearly 20 years since it happened, so I’m going to venture whatever statute of limitations exists out there is out the window.
When I came back to live in Largo in 1996 after nine months in Marietta, Georgia, I started getting stalking by these yellow index cards from the U.S. Mail. They wanted me to sign for something they had for me from the IRS.
It didn’t immediately dawn on me that the Internal Revenue Service wanted to talk to me. I kept thinking, “What’s Eers?” Originally, I thought the letters in IRS were a word, and was quickly corrected when I did a little consulting.
The reason why they wanted to talk to me, I think, was because my last radio job in late 1995 and early 1996 paid me under the table, a set amount per week for a very small amount of work, three hours a night, five nights a week. What I’ve assumed for all these years is that somehow the IRS caught wind of that, and wanted to flip me against my paymasters, who I was loyal to.
I also wonder if the Bill Clinton administration was behind it all, considering their dislike of conservative talk radio. (Can you see why I couldn’t vote for Hillary, all these years later? Imagine what they’d do with the Fairness Doctrine if HRC wins?) They didn’t need me after all, because the FCC would eventually change the rules of radio ownership by 1997, expanding the number of stations media organizations could own.
And so, for a little, if I was home when the mail was being delivered, I’d just turn off the TV or radio and get real quiet when I saw the mail truck in the neighborhood. A few weeks later, the IRS had given up the ghost, luckily for me.
It couldn’t have been that important. If it was, the powers that be would have persisted in their pursuit of me.