Hoist That Load

Our town council, who loves taxes like my cat loves cream is talking about a sales tax increase: a frequent subject of their deliberations. Only a miniscule addition they say. Pennies. Who’ll miss a 5 penny penalty on a 5 dollar purchase. We should line up to give our political servants this minor increase. Infinitestimal, a painless gift to the city. Insignificant, I think? If that’s so what can they do with the proceeds: paint new stripes on the courthouse parking lot? Then it occurs to me. It aint the money - it’s the principle. Politicians like to exercise their taxing perogatives just to stay in shape. Like the fleet shows the flag at a foreign port. We’re not going to level the town. But look at those sixteen inch guns. And consider what we could do if we so chose.Politicians - card carrying members of the burglars union - like you to remember, they can reach in your pocket with impunity. It brings to mind that old chestnut about the husky, strapping farm boy who picked up the new born calf. His father, rocking on the front porch and spitting tobacco juice, says: “Bring him over here son so I can see him better.” Every day the same routine. Pop says, “son, pick up that critter, just like you did yestiddy. If you hoisted him up yestiddy, you can hoist him up today.” The animal’s daily growth, like those 4 pennies, is infinitestimal. And the kid is all muscle. But every morning it’s harder and harder. The animal enlarges and the boy’s body is crumbling and one day that four legged critter outweighs him. The boy sinks into the ground beneath his burden. When will we learn? How long will we carry an ever growing critter on our back?