Loading ...I’ll never forget this story. So I saved it for future enjoyment. Hope you who never saw it, enjoy it, and I hope farmboy does not mind me reposting it.
(Farmboy2) Jul 12, 15:09
Farmboy Goes To The Courthouse
June 11, 2005, a day to be remembered here at the farm. With Dennis leaving 9 inches of rain in its wake, the place is a muddy mess. Thinking maybe I should give up on the crops and just open a catfish farm. Lord knows I now have the “ponds” to raise the southern fried delicacy.
June 11th was also the last day to protest the latest raise in county property taxes. I stopped digging drain ditches long enough to go to the county courthouse to file my protest. Did not bother cleaning up before leaving. Taking a hot shower and putting on clean dry clothes might have altered my ‘war’ state of mind.
It was raining, of course, as I pulled into the courthouse parking lot. I pulled my cowboy hat down a little lower as I paused to kick the rear bumper a couple times. Knocked off a couple junks of mud from my boots. Also dislodged a few larger chunks of mud and sod from the rear bumper. Some county employee was exiting his government provided sedan and gave me a look of disgust for dirtying ‘his’ parking lot. I think he was about to say something but changed his mind as with one hand I wiped the water from an unshaven face, and reached for a shovel in the back of the pickup to knock a little more mud off my boots. He clutched his briefcase and umbrella and scurried into the safety of the air conditioned courthouse. Probably, a good idea.
It’s a beautiful courthouse, only a few years old. Reckon the best marble, mahogany, and Italian tile tax money can buy. The County Board of Assessors was crowded with a line outside the door. It was good to see not all were taking this latest tax increase of around 40 percent like the sheeple that so many seem to be these days. I took my place in line, moving a few inches every minute or so. I apologized to the person in line behind me for the muddy puddles I was leaving with each step forward. They were nice about it. Kinda wished I had at least sprayed some Right Guard under the arms, or splashed a little Old Spice on to cover up the sweaty smell.
Once I actually got inside the doors the area was full of people sitting around filling out forms. It was quiet. Real quiet. Had the atmosphere of silence one normally associates with a funeral home. Finally I stood facing the young lady behind the mahogany counter. Picking up a clipboard with a form she asked me if I was there to file a tax protest? Reaching into my back jean pocket I pulled out a damp form and unfolded it. There was a smudge of mud over the large black letters that said, “Official Tax Matter”. As I handed her the paperwork, in a voice so everyone within the room could hear I replied, “No ma’m Im here to pick up a check for this amount right here under the box marked ‘Current Year Value”. With a look of surprise she took the damp document that had been mailed a few weeks earlier and looking up at me said, “Sir, Im not sure I understand….”.
Cutting her off I explained my request. “Well, it seems one of your tax assessors thinks my property is worth 40 percent more this year than last year. I have decided to take him up on his offer and will accept a check for the ‘Current Year Value’ and you all can have the farm”.
Around the room, heads looked up, pens stopped writing, and one man chimed in, “They can have mine too!”
If you can count on government employees for one thing, it is they avoid confrontation in any form. They don’t like folks who rock the boat. All eyes, and ears in the room where focused on the lady behind the desk. I bet she was wishing she had taken her lunch break before I arrived. You could almost see the following scroll across her forehead: …Fatal Error….System Reboot….” She finally composed her reply…” Uh…Sir…uh…I don’t…would you like to speak to one of our assessors”? “Yes ma’am as long as he brought his checkbook.” A few people chuckled and lightened the atmosphere in the room. The guy who had spoke up earlier gave me a thumbs up.
A few seconds later a little fellow with glasses came through a door and took the paper from the receptionist’s hand. “Mr. Farmboy, would you please come into my office”? I made him wait for an answer while I wiped the rain from by brow, and then the counter top in front of me. “ Yeah, I reckon we need to talk”. As he turned and opened the mystery door he had earlier used to enter the lobby a cool burst of air conditioned air burst into the room full of people filling out forms. I grabbed a vacant chair and propped the door open. The man with glasses started to say something, but I said, “ Its kinda hot out here with all these people, lets leave this open”. You could tell he was not happy about having his inner sanctum exposed to the common folks, but he was not about to pull that chair away from the door. One grandmotherly looking lady smiled thankfully has I followed Mr. Tax Assessor into his lair.
For the next 20 minutes we covered a lot of ground. Thanks to the education learned by reading GE Forum I was able to discuss the the saga of the US dollar, printing machines, stock bubbles, government debts, world economies, and of interest to my reason for being there, the housing bubble. I rattled off facts and figures like a M60 machine gun chewing up thick jungle. When the smoke cleared, I was facing a blank faced government employee whose face showed a man willing to throw his defense down, and surrender.
“Well, Mr. Farmboy, what figure would you say accurately reflects the value of your farm?” he asked. “I think you ought to just leave the figure from the 30% increase you hit me with two years ago. I think that would be fair enough of an increase.” After a second or two he replied, “ So, in other words no increase in tax value. I think we can do that in your case.”
The lesson learned
I will take the win of no tax increase. But I think the lesson learned has far more value. And that lesson is that an informed person is ‘The Nightmare’ for the bureaucrat. Unfortunately, there are still too many who could benefit from the knowledge shared at this Forum. Too many who rely on the ‘boob tube’ for their source of ‘learning’.
Thanks to all the members at Gold Eagle. Thanks for helping this Farmboy gain in knowledge and wisdom. Never underestimate the ‘golden value’ of the views and thoughts freely given at the Forum.