Editor’s note: Michael Ackley’s columns may include satire and parody based on current events, and thus mix fact with fiction. He assumes informed readers will be able to tell which is which.
An old farmer worked hard on his land, barely making ends meet for most of his life. Still, he paid his taxes to the king, for he was a good citizen who believed he should do his part to keep his nation safe and its denizens happy and healthy.
From year to year, his harvests were about the same, and so were his taxes. Then came a year unlike any before. Certainly there cannot be perfection in this world, but this year came as close to it in the farmer’s eyes as he could imagine. The rains were abundant and gentle, the sun warmed the furrows in season, the insects and birds that usually took their toll on his crop were virtually absent.
And so, the farmer reaped a huge harvest – some 75 baskets of corn above any he had before. His old back ached from bringing it from the fields to his barn and from his barn to market. Then came the king’s tax collector.
“Old man,” said the collector, “you have had a very good year.”
“I have,” replied the farmer.
“You have done far better than in the past,” said the collector.
“Indeed,” answered the old man.
“Because if this,” said the tax man, “you must pay your usual tax and, in addition, you must render to the king a third of this unusual gain.”
The farmer was not happy with this news, but sighed and rendered up the tax, for it was the law, and he was a good citizen.
Now, as it happened, the farmer’s next harvest was just average, but the previous year he was able to put aside a large portion in his granary as seed corn and as a bulwark against such bad times as might come. He would inspect the granary from time to time, and all seemed well until, one day, he saw a rat scurry into an opening among the ears.
Tearing into the stack of corn, the farmer discovered that rats had devoured a huge portion – a portion, in fact, as large as the yield he had gained in that one, almost perfect harvest.
“Alas!” the old man cried. “Never again shall I see a year such as that of the great harvest. Never again shall I enjoy the abundance I thought would sustain me in my age.”
Raising his tear-streaked face from his calloused hands, he saw the tax collector coming up the road.
“At least the king is just,” the farmer thought. “As he enjoyed the fruits of my labor in the miracle year, he will ease my burden in like manner in this year of my affliction.”
Upon hearing the old man’s tale and seeing the evidence of it, the tax man exclaimed, “It is indeed a pity. Therefore, our most generous king, will ease your tax burden.”
“Thanks be to God,” said the farmer. “This means I will pay no tax, for with ordinary harvests it will take some years to regain the 25 baskets I paid in the wonderful year.”
“What?” said the tax collector. “It will not be so much. The king, in his generosity, will reduce your tax by three baskets.”
And all the farmer’s protestations about the injustice of sharing in gain while ignoring loss availed him not at all.
Moral:To kings, generosity means taking less, not giving more.
Would this were a fable. Unfortunately, it is all too true. Just substitute the words “federal government” wherever you find “king,” for this is how it works in the United States of America.
But let us try another fable.
One day in a rich kingdom, the monarch passed away and a new king was crowned in due course. The new ruler, wishing to replace the late king’s privy council with one of his own, set about appointing officials, including a new chancellor of the exchequer.
For this position, he selected a young man, highly recommended, who was reputed to be among the brightest in the land.
“He will be wonderful,” one councilor told the king. “He is so smart, you can be sure your taxes will be collected, down to the last mil.”
However, another councilor scowled at this, and when the ruler asked why he looked so, he answered, “This new chancellor is so smart, he failed to pay a substantial amount of his own taxes.”
To this the first councilor replied, “But he did pay – in full and with interest.”
“Yes,” said the second, “after your majesty chose him for the job.”
“Well, never mind that,” said the king. “The law was confusing, that’s all. I’m sure he won’t let anybody else make such a mistake.”
Moral: Put somebody who knows how to cheat in charge of collecting revenue.
