 The IRS had me under their thumb. You may think you have a grasp on reality, but how can you even begin to explain this? This thumb? But they weren't content. Yes, an ordinary opposable thumb connected by flesh, tendons, and muscles. But what you are about to witness may very well pull the rug of empirical science from underneath your fate. They had to just keep smashing their thumb into my face. It's not that bad. But now, due in part to my bold choice of thin, wirery glasses, the squashing of the IRS's thumb in my face has resulted in me getting under their skin. I broke my thumb. Your thumb? And nobody likes it when you're under their skin, even if it's just under, like, the thumb's skin. My thumb? Especially when their skin is so thin. Pesci, are there rocks ahead? If there are, we all be dead. No more rhymes now, I mean it. Anybody want to feel it? Then the IRS was like, if you and those pesky, wirery glasses of yours stop getting under my skin, I'll stop squashing you under my thumb with taxes. And I was like, I don't believe you. Come, sir. We must get you to your ship. We are men of action. Lies do not become us. IRS responds, you'll regret this. And I put my smashed wirery glasses back on and was like, whatever. I could cope with torture. So it's to be tortured.