I text my son financial advice daily. In particular, this time of year, I give him tax advice.”Download the turbo tax app. Totally free, unless you get complex, which you don’t.”
I also tell him to open an IRA, because he has nothing else to reduce his tax burden.
But here’s the deal. I am a financial idiot, and he works in the financial capital of the world. So I start to think, what the hell am I doing?
So I send him another text.
“I realize that me giving you financial advice is like Hitler giving Jewish childcare advice.”
“Yeah, but well intentioned Hitler advice.”
Because he is unfailingly polite, he never gives me a hard time about sending him advice. So, as a result, I keep sending it.
But I don’t limit my advice to just finances. I send advice on everything from dealing with girlfriends to where to set his thermostat.
If there is an app for automatically knocking out your dad’s text messages, I am pretty sure he is looking into it.
So tonight, right now, I’m not sending him anything, because I am here with you folks. So once I get done with you, I’ll have to turn on ESPN or something like that, to keep me occupied, so I don’t send my son more garbage.
Such a challenge.