An Englishman in New England

An Englishman in New England

Work like no-one's watching, dance like you don't need the money, and hurt like you've never been loved.

All About The Englishman


Be informed
Be entertained
Be perverted
Confess, sinner
Things fall apart. The center cannot hold.
Change your perceptions. They're lame.
I have a dream.
I am Jack's imaginary friend
Don't think. Just Grow.
For all your multimedia needs
Rehabilitating Mr. Wiggles
Filthy Lies
Hey! You make me throw up a little!
The Framley Examiner Personals
From the creator of 'Grow'
Fura Neko games!
This man is everything I hope to be, artistically
Tokyo Plastic 2.0h!

I love free speech. Talk to me.


December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
May 2004
June 2004
July 2004
August 2004
December 2004
March 2005


Belle De Jour
C h a p e l . P e r i l o u s
Another Girl, Another Planet
Robber Rabbit

currently. . .

[Playing] Oh, holy Halo 2, Xbox
[Reading] War of the Worlds
[Songs of the Moment] Freelove Freeway, Ricky Gervais/David Brent & Noel Gallagher (The Office), Let Me Love You, Mario
[Movie(s) of the Moment] Before Sunset

highlight reel

Pussy Perspectives
The Laid List
Liquored Up and Lookin' Fer Pussy
Orphan Rampage
The Office and David Carradine
Urkel's Calling
A Wee Turtle's Head
Non-Event Horizon
The Illusion of Time
Born To Run
Bush Humor
Fiendster: The Anti-Friendster
Crusoe and the INS
Peak Oil
Smile for me, Mona
Spin the bullet bachelor party
Spin the bullet part II
Heaven and Home
Heal the world

Atom Feed me, Seymour

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Thursday, April 15


"Today is Tax Day" I sang in a jaunty rhumba, as a I chickenscraught* hefty jolly zero's on Lines 2, 3, 8, and especially 12 (jealous?). It was after I had signed with a flourish, and my bank account number had been triply checked for the direct deposit of my "shit that's a lot of cash"-sized refund that I remembered something I'd hitherto forgotten.

The IRS is my buddy.

That's right, the same taxman who reaches into your pocket every year and squeezes your testicle/ovary/nondescript and frankly worryingly ambiguous genital organ until it turns purple is someone I hold near and dear to me.

He is one of the best things about being a foreigner here - he's dependable (he visits me on the same day every year without fail), omnipowerful (who doesn't want a friend that strikes fear into the hearts of all men?), and doles out money whenever I see him. I love it. I feel very much like a tourist in Taxland, in that sure, they rip chunks out of my pathetic immigrant paycheck, but they make sure to politely give it all back when they're finished using it for, I dunno, bribing voting machine manufacturers.

Today is the day that I forget he's been squeezing my worryingly ambiguous genitals all year round with the rest of you, and rejoice at the coming of the refund I liken to my birthright.

It's a doomed relationship though - the IRS is a jealous lover, and once they find out about my immigration and Green Card shenanigans with the INS, their acronym will change its meaning to the 'Internal Raping of you Service'. I can't wait.

*It's more english-sounding than 'scratched'