You Didn't Build It, But Will They Tax It?

I was out one day hammering nails and sawing boards with no particular project in mind, when a soft voice whispered, “Build it and they will come.”

Build what? The voice did not say and when I asked, there was no answer. Then I asked who will come. Still no response.

Deciding I was being treated to a figment, I went on with my doing-nothing-in-particular project. Hammerin’ and sawin’. Hammerin’ and sawin’. Soon the voice returned: “Build it and they will come,” it said.

“Build what?” But there was no answer.

“Who will come?” No answer. I was flummoxed.

Yet I was curious.

I knew that to build something, a government permit was required. So I went to the court house.

“Whaddya need?” growled a faceless bureaucrat.

“I need a permit so I can build it,” says I.

“Build what?”

“It.”

“Why do you want to build an it?”
”So they will come.”

“Who are they?”

“Ones that come when you build it.”

The faceless creature shrugged and began filling out a form.

“How much is this going to cost me?” I asked.

“For liberal builders of its, the fee is a dollar. Since I know you to be a conservative, the charge is a million bucks.”

“What if I were building a church?”

“Two million.”

“What if the ones who are coming are illegal aliens?”

“No charge.”

“Oh, I see. Interesting.”

So I went home and began building it. When I had completed half of it, a fat chick wearing a hard hat drove onto my lawn in a chartreuse backhoe.

“What do you think you’re doing, mister,” she yelled. “I order you to stop what you think you’re doing, right now, and back away!”

“Building it,” shrugging in a way that asks what else I thought I might be doing.

“You can’t build it there.”

“How come. It’s my property.”

“Not really. But you’re interfering with a migratory path for gay-bo fly-by-nights swishing through on the way to the Swap Spit and Shit joint on the next block.”

“They’re not the ones who’ll be coming, I hope.”

“There’s no way of knowing; they have a way of showing up where they’re not invited.”

“So what am I going to do with this half of it?”

“Tear it down and move it over six inches.”

“Oh, my.”

“By the way, that’s American pine you’re using. Exchange it for Himalayan mulberry, and you’ll be good to go.”

“I thought Himalayan mulberry was endangered.”

“Only until you make a suitable contribution to the democrats.”

“I see.”

After months of toil, I finished it and was standing, hammer and saw in hand, admiring my work. A tear of pride emerged from my eye and slipped down my cheek as I thought back over the difficult months it took to finish it. Government inspections, government regulations, insanely high prices for materials caused by suppliers having to deal with Chinese ripoff artists, this fee, that fee, and all the hoopla that goes with building it. I stood massaging my aching muscles and blistered hands, when El Semi Uno arrived in an 18-car motorcade and walked over, a satisfied smirk on his face.

“So, Newshawk, you’ve finished it, have you?”
”I have. Its quite a thing I‘ve built, isn’t it?”

“Whadya mean? You didn’t build it.”

“Oh yeah, who did then?”

“Government, of course.”

“I didn’t see government up there hammerin’ nails and sawin’ boards.”

A person in a government uniform walked up and dropped a letter in my mailbox. I picked it out and looked at it. Sure enough, it was a letter from the government – my property tax bill.

“There you go,” said El Semi Uno, “our bill for building it.”

REMEMBER WHEN EL SEMI UNO SAID TO THE NATION’S BUSINESS OWNERS THAT “THEY DIDN’T BUILD IT” (THEIR OWN BUSINESSES)? I CAN PROMISE YOU THAT AS YOUR PRESIDENT I WILL NEVER SAY SUCH A THING TO YOUR FACE. AFTER ALL, THERE MAY COME A TIME WHEN THE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT WILL NEED TO MOVE IN WITH YOU.

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I HAVEN’T HIT YOU GUYS UP IN AWHILE, BUT YOU’VE FOUND YOU HAVE A LIKING FOR THIS STYLE OF WRITING, THERE IS A BOOK AVAILABLE ON AMAZON AND BARNES AND NOBLE CALLED “THE NEWSHAWK REPORTS: THE WRITING OF A POLITICALLY INCORRECT NEWSBIRD.” HAVE A LOOK, MAYBE GET A COPY; LET ME KNOW YOUR OPINION AT FVOSS70@LIVE.COM.