“Why should I pay taxes so someone else can …” complained a friend the other day as we climbed into his Lexus to drive to a restaurant.

Lots of people I know complain about their taxes and vote for political candidates who promise tax reductions. Not me. I figure I’m paid a standard of living, not a salary, and if the tax rate changes I’ll still be paid the same standard of living.

We certainly won’t keep any tax cut. The people who figure such things will figure the cost of living increased less. Companies peg raises to the cost of living, more or less, so lower taxes will end up meaning lower raises.

I’m paid a standard of living.

So is everyone else I know, and most of them, like me, are paid a very nice standard of living at that.

Different friend, different conversation … “How come nobody ever does anything for us white guys? Everyone else gets special treatment — when is it our turn?” We were walking through his office at the time, and all of the other white guys there … everyone, that is … agreed with him.

Why is everyone so crabby?

I received an e-mail.

“Open Excel,” it said. “Go to cell L15. Press your left nostril with your right forefinger. Select the next four cells, press F9, and right-click your mouse three times while saying, ‘There’s no place like home,’ into your PC’s microphone. A version of Flight Simulator will open up and as you fly around you’ll see the names of the programming team inscribed on monoliths hidden in the landscape.”

I told a friend about it.

“I wonder how much that added to the price of Microsoft Office,” he crabbed.

Gimmicks like this are called Easter Eggs. I like Easter Eggs. They’re small, pleasant surprises, hidden deep in the details just waiting to pop out when I least expect them, just to give me a smile.

Elliott Porter, the painter, had an eye for Easter Eggs. Look at his photographs sometime. Visiting the same, ordinary places you and I go every day, Porter saw (and to our good fortune photographed) the delightful surprises hidden in the details of the everyday.

Easter Eggs.

Don’t get me wrong. Crabbiness can be a positive force in the universe. It’s the grain of sand in an oyster, for example, that causes pearls to form (never mind my juxtaposition of crustaceans and mollusks into a single, tortured metaphor). It’s our desire to smooth out the little irritants of life that causes us to innovate and improve things that really are, to any objective observer, good enough.

We rented A Night at the Opera a few weeks ago. It was time for my kids to meet the Marx Brothers, despite (OK, because of) the political incorrectness of Groucho’s cigar, Chico’s Italian, and Harpo’s inveterate woman-chasing. We howled as the Brothers Marx destroyed both the opera and the bad guys (“bad guys” meaning “pompous, self-important windbags”).

Kimberly, my 11-year-old, had to give a biographical presentation the following week at school, so we went on the Web and downloaded a bunch of information about Groucho’s life, several dozen quips, and the lyrics to “Lydia the Tattooed Lady” which, I’m proud to say, Kimberly, Groucho glasses and all, sang for her class during the presentation.

(When heckled by an 11-year-old male classmate she responded, “You’ve got the brain of a 4-year-old boy, and I bet he was glad to get rid of it.”)

The Web is filled with Easter Eggs.

Meanwhile Erin, my Harpo-haired 8-year-old, practices Harpo’s “leg move.” She’s a bundle of Easter Eggs, too, although she’s far from mastered Harpo’s trick of never talking. Far, far from it.

The joy in life is in the details. Talk to people who nearly died but didn’t. They enjoy life more than the rest of us. Ask and they’ll tell you about the joy of a deep breath, of a warm day, and of a cold beer. They also see the Easter Eggs.

This holiday season, take a moment to realize that you don’t have to get cancer or have a heart attack to enjoy a deep breath of fresh air. You’re allowed to enjoy the Easter Eggs around you, too.

Recently I described some research I bumped into 20 years ago about a parrot that appeared to understand both the meaning of the words it mimicked and at least some elementary rules of grammar. Not having heard anything more about it, I concluded the research didn’t pan out and parrots are mere mimics after all.

My thanks to dozens of IS Survivalists who set me straight on this subject. Dr. Irene Pepperberg and Alex, her African Gray Parrot, are alive and talking to each other. It’s fascinating research. Bop over to http://www.cages.org/research/pepperberg/index.html to learn more about it. My apologies to any parrots I may have offended by likening them to the wrong class of human beings.

Offending human beings is OK, though. It’s your turn if you’re one of those who insist on giving the company what’s convenient rather than what’s important. You probably don’t recognize yourselves. To help you sort it out, you’re the ones most likely to explain that anytime you deliver something that’s inconvenient, it’s really a violation of IS standards that will further increase maintenance costs, cause PCs to require rebooting five times a day, and besides, the company really doesn’t need it anyway, regardless of what the person doing the work says.

The history of the PC is excellent evidence of this attitude, as an IS Survivalist who asks to remain anonymous pointed out in a recent letter: “Since the IS organization ignored us, we bought PCs to do our work, until the IS organization woke up and discovered their mainframes were dinosaurs.

“So the IS organization went to our management and took over our PCs and then demanded money to manage them. They then complained we used them for things other than functions their mainframes used to do, and since they never tried to understand what we do with them, they mismanaged them.

“The costs for PCs skyrocketed because of this mismanagement, so CIOs were invented to keep us from buying anything. Then the CIOs discovered our computers were becoming obsolete (because they wouldn’t let us replace them) and they mandated we replace them, but we had no money because we gave it all to the Information Systems people who squandered it on lousy PC support contracts.

“Instead of finding out what we need to do our work, and providing tools for us to use and standards for us to follow, IS people now dream up misguided, grandiose, expensive projects to do it all for us and leave no money to do the things that need to be done. And we, the user organizations, end up doing all the computer planning ourselves, developing our own standards, and inventing workarounds to the cumbersome system set up by the IS organization and the CIO.”

Overly harsh? Maybe. For example, I don’t think CIOs were invented to keep end-users from buying anything. That’s what corporate controllers are for. CIOs were invented to be comforting to business executives who had trouble relating to technical managers whose sole excuse for holding their jobs was that they got things done.

The first PCs to enter businesses were bought to enhance personal effectiveness. They lacked the really stupid features of the 3270 interface and they made end-users independent of IS (a huge factor in their popularity). If somebody sold software that would be worthwhile to the end-user, that end-user could simply buy the software, install it, and enjoy the benefits.

This is InfoWorld’s 20th anniversary year, and in those two decades IS has gained control of the “personal” computer. In doing so we’ve tried our best to make it as impersonal as possible.

When I attended the University of Minnesota, its management tried to encourage the use of mass transit, not by making mass transit more convenient but by reducing the number of parking spots. Students, faculty and administrators, however, preferred the device they could personally control — the automobile.

We can talk about how PCs are an enterprise resource all we want. We can’t, however, change human nature, and end-users don’t want an enterprise resource on their desks. They want a personal device that provides access to enterprise resources.