A parable on taxation

Word spread around town like wildfire.

Angus MacDingus was in the saloon.  That, in and of itself was not unusual.  What was unusual was that Angus was crying…not a manly glistening of the eye, nor a discrete sniff…nope, Angus was crying in great, air-gulping, gut-wrenching sobs that started from below his diaphragm and erupted to shake the rafters.

What made this particularly confusing was that Angus was a man’s man.  He would cheerfully trade blows with the largest of lumberjacks or muleskinners, and do it with the devil’s grin upon his face.   

As a young man years earlier, upon learning of his dear mother’s death back on the Isle Muick, he had merely grunted and gone back to splitting firewood.

The townfolk were confused.   

Finally, Tavish, a stout lad in his own right, decided to ask Angus the cause for his anguish.

Angus said, “Ye remimber me horses?”

Tavish said, “Aye.”

Angus said, “They be dead.”

Tavish’s jaw dropped. “Not your prized Clydesdales!!!” he exclaimed, both horrified and astonished.”

“Aye.  Both of them.” Angus replied…triggering another bout of deep sobs.

“What could have carried them both away?  They were the bonniest horses in the west counties.” Tavish puzzled.

“I dunno.  But that is not the worst part.”  said Angus

“Do tell.”  replied Tavish, encouraging his friend to elaborate.

“The ingrates died just before I had finished training them to be true Scot’s horses.  I was training 'em to not eat.  In another two weeks I’d a had them plowing 10 acres a day on not a whisp of feed.  That would have been something.”  At which Angus broke down again. 

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That explains the origins of the anger that policy-makers in the public sector feel toward businesses.  The ungrateful businesses always die just before the policy-makers have perfected the art of 100% taxation.

Hat-tip to Ed Kupec