Q: A track to hurl in the misshaped face of the taxman?

OK, nothing but pure unmitigated sour grapes here. A few months ago I got a demand from the German tax authorities for part of my liver or at least a kidney, quoting tax laws made for the likes of Boris Becker (Monaco denizen). Yesterday the old proverbial hit the fan as another letter announced that all my assets in the fatherland were seized until I coughed up. Nonewithstanding the fact that my assets over there are nil, cough it up I did (and gasped, not realizing that a wire transfer from the new world costs $35), because just about the last thing I want is for my old folks to have to cling to their TV set as it is carried out by some hired ruffians on account of 'familienhaft'. Anyway, here is a fitting expression of my rage, and the old proverbial in the teuton vernacular (did I really say that?).

A: The Seconds - Scheisse (from Kratitude, 2006) [Buy]