I’ve
not kept up with National’s intentions for state housing: I’m finding tuning
into the activities of government depressing and so am less inclined to do so,
opting for nice stuff instead, like drinking wine. Although, of course, it is
impossible, ultimately, to stick one’s head in the sand, because the state owns
us, I know this when I look at our tax liability for the coming year that I’ve
just calculated, on which Mrs H is furious, because it means the prudent
curtailing of some of our plans; that is, a word increasingly unknown to the
welfare state: restraint. Let me explain.
I
realise that all current residents of state housing are to be assessed as to
their fitting the requirements for state housing, and all the normal hubbaloo
is sounding from those statists who have forgotten that a state house was never
supposed to be for life: it was a step up, a temporary helping hand. So faint
praise from me on this one. However, as with so much from this government, it
appears to me there is a doublespeak involved. Just as Bill English’s constant
references to spending constraints in reality mean not having to deal with what
is really necessary, spending cuts, and hiding the fact that his every budget
has increased the total government dollar spend, so do I see the lie of the state
house occupier reassessment. The lie is in the fact the government is embarking
on vastly increasing the stock of state houses: not just the number, but the
size per house, to four and five bedroom houses; additional bedrooms being
renovated onto existing state houses. Free men know that add bedrooms and build
bigger state houses, then welfare will surely fill those bedrooms with babies,
who in most cases I would hope have love – though certainly not guaranteed –
but much less chances in life, than those born of love, affection, and
prudence: welfare is doing what it does best – creating a permanent struggling
underclass.
This insight into the doublespeak was gleaned by
myself from a two minute clip on the TV 1 six o’clock news this last
Thursday night, 16 May. It was discussing the need for bigger state houses, and
the camera panned to the problem: a mum – a dad was not present or spoken of,
but whether this was a solo mum, or not, is beside the point, which is unrestrained
irresponsibility and stupidity – ... a mum, who to me looked younger than 20 years
old, until the evidence of her five, yes five, children on the couch beside
her, tucking into potato chips, led me to believe she must I guess/hope be in
her mid-twenties; anyway, mum wasn’t so much explaining the need for a bigger
state house due to the brood of five, but, sit tight – something mum should
have done much more of – it wasn’t just the five children next to her, as she
went onto say, rather the eight, EIGHT, children family she has, and an
additional one on the way because mum was pregnant again. Apparently, despite
she could not afford her own housing for the existing family of eight, she’d
made the decision to have another. Honest; watch this nonsense, though make
sure, first, you’ve nothing precious and breakable around you.
Although
as bad as that is, and monumental stupidity on this scale is beyond my
comprehension, it still was not the bit that really had me angry. On the arm of
the chair mum was sitting on, was a Sky TV remote control. Now as regards that
remote, here’s an interesting anecdote.
I
had two clients last year post their Sky remotes back, because they couldn’t
responsibly – big word that – afford their subscriptions. Both clients are
self-employed, one in the trades, the other a rural contractor; one with two
children, the other with one, and both pay tax; their problem being after
paying tax they're struggling. These two families are paying tax so mum of eight
– nine to be – can move to a bigger house with her Sky decoder, and she's the
one on the telly complaining about her lot, that the politicians from all
parties in our Parliament are pandering to.
There
is nothing right about that. Nothing at all.
For
myself, partly because I keep this site, and I’m rightly terrified of IRD, I prudently do my taxes conservatively, or as best I can with
our mish mash mess of complicated tax law, hence Mrs H is not best pleased with
our tax bills coming this year – (aside: I see the IRD tracking through my blog (see update 1) and so remind all officers to read my disclaimer at bottom, please,
especially in this age when the IRD has broadened its reign of terror to advisors.) Although our problem is a little more complex than that: I’ve
had about as much as I can take of social(alist) democracy – read funding mum
of eight with ninth on the way - but have resigned myself to the fact this train
we’re on to the state gulag is unstoppable, so I want to take more time out to
look at the scenery on the way, and do my own ‘thang’. Thus, with only Mrs H
and myself to look after any longer, and we can live pretty cheap - our biggest
budget item is wine - I’ve been asking some of my bigger clients to leave so I
can trade money for time - I've never been driven by money. The way our
tax system works this means paying tax bills from higher income years, on
smaller income, which is not a problem as we have it put aside, we plan, though
is an inconvenience in that I have to look to estimating provisional tax. And within
this context we have been spending just a tad too much, for reasons that are
personal, and stuck with an earthquake damaged house in Christchurch not
helpful, so, as I wrote at the start of this, we’re employing a little
necessary restraint, so as not to have to use our long term savings.
And
all that would be fine, or rather would have been, if it wasn’t for mum of eight
– ninth coming - on Thursday night. Her complete seeming disregard for
restraint is just rubbing my nose in how unjust this prison of state known as
the welfare state, has become. I’ve said before, the problem is not welfare
abuse: it’s welfare use which is, of course, the end of the free
society, and the road to a cruel one. And a final note in passing, a personal
one, if this is the caring society, then as one of those paying for it at the
price of my privacy and right to be left alone, and mine and Mrs H's goals and
aspirations, sorry, I ain’t feeling the love, and mum of eight – ninth coming –
is feeling, and getting it far too much: has she heard of birth control? If the
wine world hadn’t moved to screw tops, I could’ve sent her a cork.
Finally,
just for those caring politicians who don’t understand our Western tradition of
classical liberalism, no, the ANZAC’s didn’t die for this unrestrained,
irresponsible, behaviour politicians use to bind the prudent to the yoke of
them, either. Far from it - this is what war hero Charles Upham was fighting for.
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Um, unrelated addendum: I don’t want to depress the workers too much more, but in case you hadn’t noticed,
the government money printing presses have been working incessantly,
world-wide, to ensure the next economic collapse is much deeper and more thorough
than the last one starting – and still going – since August, 2008. The markets
are going to collapse again – why, because the fix for that financial crisis
implemented by the state planners, was simply much more of what caused it:
(just quietly, another reason to hunker down and take stock) … [Lights
fade to maniacal laughter).
With that, Mrs H and I are entering the last couple of weeks of our break, with friends descending on us
tomorrow and staying for a while, so posting may be intermittent until we get back to Geraldine.