I’ve figured it out. I have finally figured out how politicians think.
They think in millions and billions, dubbed from a bottomless pit while you and I think in paltry dollars and cents that are sparsely saved in the tiny sugar bowl. That is the less-than-half-left of the hard-earned dollars after the extracted taxes come out of our pockets.
I don’t watch much TV but I do watch the six o’clock news on the London station each night. And let me tell you, I am getting more and more annoyed at the news clips of politicians mouthing off about the millions of our tax dollars that are being directed to large industry in order to either create or save jobs. At what end of the horse do they think we are standing? If their words could be spread on our kitchen gardens, we would have little worry about nutrition.
Where were they when I faced bankruptcy? Where are they while you struggle to put food on the table? Where are they while you battle with heating, hydro, water and gas prices? Let me explain in a more simple language exactly the position you and I and the passersby are in.
It is a slow day in small-town Ontario. The rain is beating down and the streets are deserted. Times are tough, everybody is in debt, and everybody lives on credit. On this particular day, a well-heeled politician, driving through the village in his high-priced car, drops in to an ATM and picks up five brand-new $20 bills, then stops at the local hotel and lays the $100 pile of stuck-together bills on the desk, telling the hotel owner he wants to inspect the rooms upstairs in order to pick one to spend the night.
The owner hands out the keys and, as soon as the visitor has walked upstairs, the hotel owner grabs the $100 package and runs next door to pay his debt to the butcher. The butcher takes the five brand-new 20s and runs down the street to pay his debt to the pig farmer.
The pig farmer takes the five crispy bills and heads off to pay his bill at the supplier of feed and fuel. The franchiser at the Farmers’ Co-op takes the $100 and pays his bar bill at the local pub. The barkeep slips the money along to the local prostitute drinking at the bar who has also been facing hard times and has had to offer him “services” on credit.
The hooker then rushes to the front desk and pays off part of her room bill at the hotel with the still crispy new bills. The hotel proprietor then places the same unwrinkled bills back on the counter, so the returning politician will not suspect anything. At that moment, said political traveller comes down the stairs, picks up the $100 in its entirety, stating that the rooms are not satisfactory, pockets the money, and leaves.
That, dedicated readers, whether you care to believe it or not, is how low our present government has stooped with their imaginary economic bailout packaging.
No one is producing anything.
No one is earning anything.
However, the whole village thinks it is now out of debt and looking to the future with a little more optimism.
Take care, ’cause we care.
barrie@barriehopkins.ca
519-986-4105