Payback is a Female Dog

As a resident of Sarasota, Florida who has the misfortune to be addicted to nicotine, I have endured much at the hands of the local schoolmarms who run our government. I can not smoke on the mile wide beach. I can not work for the county government: smokers need not apply. My state legislators are no better, balancing their budget on my back. And my bete noire of the moment is Congressman Vern Buchanan, who giving into personal prejudice, violated Republican ideals and voted for the Democrat cigarette tax increase forcing me to pay for the healthcare of others as well as my own. Mel Martinez only escaped my wrath by retiring.

In effect, I am paying taxes, but no one is representing my interests. Does taxation without representation sound familiar? Now just about March 16th, the local school board is looking for voters to renew an additional school tax we habitually impose on ourselves. I have always been a faithful supporter of the measure. Guess what I'm doing this year? It ain't voting "yes." If my local government considers me less than human, I won't sully their hands with my nicotine-stained dollars. Heck, if I could figure out a way to avoid paying taxes to them at all, I would.

I'm just not on a soapbox here. The School District has been spending like drunken sailors on school construction, building opulent child warehouses, when smaller schools are more effective. All of which makes it easier to just say "no."

Denial and Reality: An Epiphany of Sorts

The virtual hemorrhage of federal money, the unchecked government spending, scares me, as it scares many of my fellow citizens. The situation is unconscionable, as well as untenable. If nothing else, what right do we have to saddle our progeny with our debts...and for what? Acorn?

The willful blindness afflicting our elected representatives is truly astounding. Since most of them have never worked up a bad, let alone good, sweat in their working careers, I offer them a test. Let's call it the sofa test. You see, the numbers these politicians wield are abstractions to them, bandied about with little recognition of just what those numbers represent. I would ask, "How many sofas should a mover carry on his back to fund pig smell studies in Iowa?" Picture a septic tank cleaner: "How many septic tanks must he pump to fund the National Endowment of the Arts?"

Seen in this light, you have to rethink the role of the federal government. Many of the recipient programs are laudable. They are nice things, but they are not in the rightful purview of government. After much thought, it seems to me that the federal government, just as a private family in straitened circumstances, needs to concentrate on its core obligations- in this case: national security, some sort of social safety net so that no one dies on the streets of hunger, and others.

As things stand, it seems that Congress is in the grip of a mass hysteria, playing a bit of Handel as the HMS State slowly submerges. The woods are burning, boys.

Apology

When I began this blog, I was not working. Later I started working part time. With the current state of the economy, I am now working full time. My situation has resulted in very little time to post. I miss blogging and am working out some scheme to continue. Still unsure how I am going to accomplish it.

Prisoner of Conscience Orlando Zapata Tamayo Dies

It is with great sadness that I note the passing of yet another noble and brave soul in the Castrian Gulag. Zapata Tamayo's demise, the result of a hunger strike undertaken in protest of inhuman conditions compounded by those same conditions, has unleashed a new wave of repression on the island.