IRS Confuses Dole With Dole Fruit Company

IRS Confuses Dole With Dole Fruit Company

By staff writer B.S.

Bob Dole Says Vote For Bob Dole Website

3/22/2006

Besthda, Maryland – At a meeting to review the company’s financial performance, Dole Fruit executives were more than a little concerned about their current situation.

“Judging by the numbers, some of our accountants really messed up last year; we owe more than $43 million in back taxes,” claimed chief company accountant Fisher Stevens.

A swarm of concern overtook the meeting room, and for some, panic began to set in.

“I knew it! I told you all years ago that fruit is the devil; we’re in the wrong business! But no, no one ever listens to Regis! Whole grains; that’s where it’s at people!” shouted shareholder Regis Philbin. Disgusted, he stormed out of the meeting, followed closely by a desperate Kathy Lee, heard saying, “…does this mean I can get my old job back if you lose all your money in this?”

Meanwhile in the heart of Washington, D.C., the government had already caught wind of the fiasco, because while the DOD may not be able to find a six foot Arab man on dialysis, tax evasion sets off red alerts at the IRS, whether the facts have been double-checked or not!

“Look at this Ed. It’s Dole’s tax return. He owes us $43 million!” exclaimed new agent John Dogget.

“I’ll be damned. Good work Dogget. Sure is more tangible than chasing aliens around the country on those crazy X-files at your old FBI job, doesn’t it!” Ed replied.

Agent Dogget stared at him with severe contempt. “I’ve had enough people call me crazy for being on the X-files, so can it. Let’s just get him. Call downstairs and have somebody get a press release ready for when we take him into custody.”

Oblivious to the world and the impending trouble, Bob Dole was enjoying his Saturday afternoon singing a folk song about his beloved hometown of Russell, Kansas, while Elizabeth Dole accompanied his horrendous screeching with a much more dignified performance on their piano.

“Oh, we have lots of corn/and it gets really cold/but come to the soda fountain and drink a crushed orange/before you rustle up the cows comin’ home to Russell, yeah yeah.”

Their riveting performance was interrupted by the doorbell. Elizabeth answered the door, seeing as how she could actually get there before the people gave up and concluded no one was home.

The two suits stood in the doorway. “Hello ma’am, I’m Agent John Dogget, and this Ed Sanders; we’re with the Internal Revenue Service.”

“Who is it?” questioned Dole from the other room.

“They’re look like FBI men Robert, but they say they’re from the IRS.”

Dogget rolled his eyes. “Ma’am, we need to speak with your husband.”

“Come in then.”

Wasting no time, Agent Sanders went after Dole. “Robert J. Dole, you’re under arrest for tax evasion.” He said, reading Dole his rights as he gingerly put handcuffs on the elderly Senator.

Minutes later outside the loft apartments, as Dole had once again found himself in trouble, the vultures of the press (an entire mob of two reporters) swooped in and asked him why he did it.

While Elizabeth kept repeating “No comment” as they led Dole away, the honest and upset Dole proclaimed, “Bob Dole is innocent!”

Connie Chung turned to look into the news camera. “That’s the latest on this developing story. As for the Senator, the American public can only ask, “Say it ain’t so, Dole.” Connie Chung, WCBS, Washington.” Immediately after this was broadcast over the air, a person in living in Nevada who hates puns screamed bloody murder, then shot themselves.

Back in Besthda, the stooges at Dole Fruit were rejoicing. “Mr. Philbin, Fisher Stevens from Dole Fruit…yes, the dim-witted accountant…yes, sir, but I have good news. Turn on CNN right now…exactly, they think Bob Dole owes our $43 million! We’re in the clear; there’s no need to sell your shares! Yes, I’d be happy if I got to fire Kathy Lee again too sir. Thank you. Have a great day.”

Even the usually staunch Elizabeth Dole was quick to distance herself from yet another fiasco her husband would have to endure, hoping against hope that it would all be cleared up quickly while she carried on with a hastily arranged press conference.

“I want to reassure the people of North Carolina I have no knowledge of any illegal activities occurring, and that I am committed to helping authorities in any way I can. Thank you.”

Hours later, Dole found himself in the IRS’s secret interrogation room, being grilled like glazed pork chops.

“Where did the $43 million go!?” demanded Agent Dogget.

“Bob Dole doesn’t know anything about $43 million. Bob Dole doesn’t even have $43 million dollars; Bob Dole could shine shoes for 47 years and still not have that much money! It’s a mistake!”

Not being able to glean any useful information out of the old man, he had to be released, but as expected, the story didn’t end there.

Sitting at home the next day attempting to write a new folk song about Russell, the telephone rang, and Dole reluctantly picked it up.

“Pay up the money Dole! We’re watching you!” exhorted the anonymous, threatening voice at the other end of the line.

“Bob Dole is a World War II veteran. Bob Dole will not be treated like this.” Dole glanced at the list of comebacks Elizabeth had prepared for him on a notecard next to the phone. “What does IRS really stand for anyway? Intentionally Retarded Service? Ha ha; good one Elizabeth!” The phone went dead.

Just when things seemed at their lowest, Dole’s assistant Matt had a suggestion. “Senator, why don’t you call Barry Bonds and see what advice he has to offer; he’s avoided paying taxes on his autograph shows for years!”

“Bob Dole will not stoop to that level. Bob Dole feels sick. Maybe Regis will make Bob Dole feel better.”

The tired and depressed Dole sat down in front of the mind-numbing TV to listen to Regis pander to the audience. Low and behold, he was in for a surprise.

“Hot off the presses here, I have a news story that will blow your mind.” Regis said, making his trademark exaggerated arm movements. “I just found out that it’s not Bob Dole that owes the IRS $43 million…it’s the Dole Fruit Company!”

“But Regis…don’t you own a lot of Dole Fruit?” asked his mystified co-host.

“Yes I do Katie…or Kristy…or whatever your name is. But I’m doing it out of spite, because I hate the company’s accountant!”

As the audience laughed along to the flashing applause sign in the studio, Bob Dole breathed a sigh of relief.

The next day after making a final visit to the IRS to clear everything, Dole stood by his car with Elizabeth, and couldn’t help smirking as he waited for an apology from Agent Dogget.

“As a true representative of the new, friendlier IRS, I sincerely apologize Senator.” said Agent Dogget.

“Apology accepted” replied the forgiving Dole. Then pausing, Dole looked in puzzlement at Agent Dogget before asking, “Bob Dole thinks we’ve met before all this started…aren’t you the crazy FBI fellow who asked Bob Dole if Bob Dole had seen any aliens in Kansas a couple years back?”

Agent Dogget of the “friendly IRS” glared angrily at Dole, then gave him the finger as he drove away.