Cousin Throckmorton and Taxes

Dear Cousin Red,

It has been and interestin’ week up here in the Holler. The Mayor has decided he needs a new official car, and has been workin’ out how best ta pay fer it.

I don’t mean he’s lookin’ inta loans and things like that; he lookin’ at how best he can get the rest of us t pay fer it. An’ that means taxes are a’ goin’ up. We been thru this a’fore. Every coupla a years- years that DON’T seem to be years he needs our votes- the Mayor decides the city bank account is slimmer than what he needs ta spend. Just once I want him to look at that bank account and decide its too fat, but I guess as long as getting more money is just a pen stroke away, what the Hell, right?

So anyway, the Mayor has just about wee-weed off everybody up here in the Holler with his taxin’ every little thing. 15 years ago he wanted a new desk for his office; so he started taxin’ food down at the Koffee Kup (yeah, I know its suppose to spelled with a ‘C’, but its a very old sign), and got every one of the old farmers up in arms. But he got his desk, and the old farmers STILL voted fer ‘im. Then he wanted a new fancy chair to go with the new desk, and started taxin’ yarn and bolt goods down at the General Store, and got most of the women riled. But, he got his desk chair, and most of the women folk STILL voted fer him.

About 10-12 years ago the Mayor decided it was time for him to have an Official Mayor’s Car, paid fer by the City. Now this was a major expense, and called fer some right serious money. Well, there is only one way to raise some some right serious tax money up here. I know what yer thinkin’- oh no he didn’t. Well, Cuz, oh yeah he did. He started taxin’ the beer that Rembert’s sold outta back door of the butcher shop. I still can’t figur’ out how he could tax somthin’ that ain't even legal 'round here in the first place, but he did. It weren’t much of a tax, only a nickel a can, but it weren’t long and he raised enough fer his official car.

An’ he got re-elected. I beginnin’ ta think meybe we ought not ta let him count the ballots anymore. But that’s beside the point. Well, in this letter it is anyway. The point is he has taxed about everything y’all can beg or borrow. Not havin’ stole anythin’ lately I can’t tell fer sure if’n he’s taxin’ the stealin’ or not. But we was tryin’ ta figur’ out where the next tax hike was comin’ from when he up an’ announced it. He was startin’ to tax soda pop and candy, Well that’s why the adults couldn’t figur’ out what was next; we don’t eat much candy or drink much pop, so we didn’t know they weren’t taxed.

But the worst part was how he made it sound like it wasn’t fer his good he were doin’ it, but it was fer the chilluns, as the mayor said it. He said ta think ‘bout them little ‘uns with their teeth all rotted from too much candy and soda pop, and how this tax will make it harder fer them ta af’erd so much sugar. Well, how do y’all fight somethin’ like that? I don’t know ‘bout y’all Cuz, but I don’t get no sleep at night if’n I go against the kids. It ain’t my conscience that bothers me, its the wife. But that ain’t the point a’ this letter either. He wound up taxin’ the pop an’ candy, and the Mayor was instantly less popular than the High School Principal. Seems the young ‘uns don't really cotton ta bein’ takin’ care of that way.

Well, we got ta thinkin’ ‘bout it, and up here in the Holler we never had too much trouble with the kids teeth anyway. ‘Cause were parents, don’t ya know, and we limit things like that ta make sure we don’t have kids with rotten teeth. Or rotten minds fer that matter. But that ain’t the point of this letter either. Well Cuz, to make a long story short, if’n it ain’t too late, the mayor got his tax an’ got his car. The kids still buy ‘bout the same amount a’ candy and pop, it just costs more.

An’ guess who is payin’ that more? Yeah, me. The kids had ta get a raise in their 'lowance to cover the new tax. So now they’re happy. Momma has ‘saved the young ‘uns, so she’s happy. The mayor got his new car, so he’s happy, but I didn’t get a raise, so I had ta cut back on the beer, so I ain’t happy.

By gum, I swear this comin’ election I am goin’ ta find somebody ta count them votes fer mayor that ain’t got a dog in that fight!


Best wishes from all of us in the Holler,

Throckmorton Q. Sheisseschnitter