On a balmy mid-August day, Patrick Wiesner is sitting in a Topeka café, sipping soda and delving into his third longwinded diatribe on federal tax enforcement. His voice rises, attracting stares from nearby coffee drinkers, until he stops suddenly, grinning as if embarrassed by his enthusiasm.
Donning a charcoal black suit and matching polka dot tie, Wiesner looks the part of a tax lawyer from Lawrence, which he is. He possesses a dry wit, the existence of which he denies, saying, “I’m an accountant. We don’t have a sense of humor.”