We'll try to cooperate fully with the IRS, because, as citizens

“We’ll try to cooperate fully with the IRS, because, as citizens, we feel a strong patriotic duty not to go to jail.” Thus wrote Dave Barry, the humorist whose words cut through solemnity with laughter. Yet beneath the veil of jest, there lies truth as sharp as any sword. In this playful remark, Barry unmasks the mingling of patriotism and pragmatism, showing how often our noble sense of duty is entangled with our desire to avoid punishment. His wit reminds us that even the loftiest ideals can wear the garb of the ordinary, and that the sacred task of citizenship sometimes arrives in the humble form of paying one’s taxes.

The meaning is layered. On the surface, Barry mocks the tendency of people to disguise fear as patriotic duty. Few, after all, gladly part with their hard-earned money, and fewer still find inspiration in dealings with the IRS. Yet he wryly calls this act of compliance a “patriotic duty,” as though the avoidance of jail were a noble offering to the republic. Beneath the humor lies a subtle truth: the obligations of citizenship are not only fought on battlefields or displayed in grand gestures, but also fulfilled in mundane obedience to the laws that sustain society.

The origin of this quote rests in Barry’s long tradition of satirizing the everyday struggles of Americans. Taxes, dreaded as they are, symbolize the tension between freedom and responsibility. Citizens often proclaim love of country, yet grumble at the duties required to sustain it. Barry’s humor highlights this paradox: we are patriots not only when we wave flags, but also when we write checks, not only when we cheer at parades, but also when we cooperate—reluctantly—with the civil order that prevents chaos.

History itself gives weight to Barry’s jest. Consider George Washington and the Whiskey Rebellion. After independence, when the young republic introduced a tax on whiskey to fund its fragile government, many farmers rebelled, claiming the levy was unjust. Washington himself rode at the head of militia forces to enforce the law, proving that even in a land founded on liberty, patriotism demanded obedience to the burdens that kept the nation alive. Those who paid, however begrudgingly, sustained the republic; those who refused endangered it.

Thus, Barry’s humor carries wisdom: that patriotic duty is not always glorious. Often, it is inconvenient, tedious, and humbling. To serve one’s nation may mean sacrifice in war, yes—but it also means sacrifice in peace: the filing of taxes, the respect for laws, the acceptance of duties that seem dull yet are essential. Without such obedience, even the grandest ideals collapse into disorder. By joking that his loyalty springs from fear of jail, Barry reminds us that even fear can lead us to do what duty requires—and in doing so, preserve the order of civilization.

The lesson for us is clear: do not despise the small, ordinary acts of citizenship. Paying taxes, voting, serving on juries, abiding by laws—these may seem insignificant compared to heroic deeds, but they are the foundation upon which liberty is built. A nation is sustained not only by soldiers and statesmen, but by ordinary citizens who accept their share of responsibility. To scoff at these duties while demanding the benefits of freedom is hypocrisy.

Practically, this means embracing our civic obligations with gratitude rather than resentment. Pay your taxes honestly, not because the IRS threatens punishment, but because the roads, schools, and protections of society depend upon it. Obey the law not only out of fear, but out of reverence for the stability it provides. Teach your children that patriotism is not confined to grand moments of glory, but is lived daily in quiet acts of responsibility.

So let Barry’s humor serve as both jest and wisdom: our patriotic duty is not merely to avoid jail, but to sustain the fabric of the nation through the duties of citizenship. Laugh, yes, at the absurdity of taxes and forms, but also remember the truth hidden within the jest—that even the smallest acts of compliance are threads woven into the great tapestry of freedom.