Seattle's Head Tax – Punishing Success,Giving Thanks
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Seattle’s Head Tax – Punishing Success When I read the Seattle City Council passed the head tax 9-0, I was stunned. Although the original proposal called for a $500 tax per employee, the Council voted “yes” to the reduced $275 after the Mayor threatened to veto the original bill. The punitive tax will affect for-profit companies that gross at least $20 million per year — about 3% of Seattle’s corporations. This is so wrong on so many levels. I don’t even know how to wrap my head around something that punishes employers who actually create jobs, hire people and already pay millions into the city’s and state’s coffers. And where’s all the money from the soda tax, pot tax and alcohol tax that’s already coming in? According to the advocates of the head tax, this new-found money is supposed to help the “homeless” – the current politically correct nomenclature. But who defines “homelessness?” No doubt there are people who are “homeless” and just need a hand up. But are those really the majority of people on the streets? Or is the majority those who prefer not to work, live on the streets, and don’t want to help themselves? Are people who choose to use drugs included? What about the mentally ill? It’s a complex problem and we’re led to believe an ineffective and inefficient government will use this money wisely. According to the reports, this tax is supposed to raise at least $20 million a year, $13.2 million of which is supposed to be used to build 591 units of low-income housing over five years. Twenty-two percent will be used for emergency shelter, trash pickup, raises for service workers and other needs and, of course, the always necessary two percent for “administration.” What does all this mean? Rooms? Apartments? Condos? Townhomes? Do these Left wing ideologues on the City Council truly believe you can take someone who defecates and urinates on the street and lives in a cardboard box, move them into a sheltered enclosure and this will turn their lives around? Really? Will these same people go out to Walmart and buy matching towels and sheets, pots, pans and cleaning supplies for these new abodes? When my husband worked as an attorney in Seattle in the dependency court system, he knew about every shelter, food kitchen, drug program and charity available in the city. How many times did he see people walking out of one of the Catholic charities carrying loaves of bread only to turn around and feed that same bread to the pigeons on the street? Picking through bags of clothing they were given only to leave numerous items on the street to get soaked by the rain? There are countless shelters available throughout the city which have only one requirement – someone has to be clean and sober. Clearly, if you’re on the street, and not mentally ill, you choose not to be clean and sober. Being poor does not mean living like animals on the street. I’ve traveled around the world to over 60 countries and I have witnessed what it is to be poor. I have seen people working on the street – making cookies out of dirt and sugar. Yes, they were very poor, but they were working. They were not defecating or urinating in the street as you see in Seattle, NY and San Francisco. They were poor but they had dignity and self-respect. Perhaps some will think I’m being harsh and unsympathetic. I have a great deal of sympathy for people who are in dire straits, but I will not misplace my compassion for people who choose a certain lifestyle and who make no attempt to help themselves. In our work in dependency court, my husband and I have seen people at their worst. Some choose to survive; some do not. No amount of money thrown into government programs will make someone do something they don’t want to do. The most successful drug programs we’ve witnessed in our 30 years of practice are 12-step programs – free to anyone who chooses to get clean. No money involved. Call me cynical, call me mean-spirited, call me uncaring. In far too many cases, “homelessness” is a choice. There I’ve said it. This tax is about the Left wing’s hatred of Jeff Bezos, head of Amazon, solely because he is a capitalist. Self-identified Socialist Council member, Kshama Sawant, had the audacity to comment on Jess Bezos’s wealth: “There is no way this tax will be a burden on big businesses in Seattle.” How dare she proclaim what “burden” the wealthy will endure? Exactly how many jobs has she created compared to the 45,000 people who are employed by Amazon? What does Ms. Sawant think will happen to Seattle’s economy if Mr. Bezos packed up Amazon and left the state (which I hope he does)? I’d like to know when was the last time she visited Venezuela — a beautiful country ruined by socialism — where surgeons now make $6.00 a month. I have no idea whether this head tax is constitutional or not. Whichever corporation sues to find out will be viewed by the hate-filled Left as demonic. Just look at the signs in the photo above – exactly where in the U.S. or State constitutions is “housing a human right.” Anyone who disagrees is the devil incarnate. The Council’s ordinance calls for the tax to end in five years, with renewal requiring a further vote in 2023. Two things are certain: the tax will never go away and punishing success will never cure “homelessness.” I don’t get it. If you do, God bless you. Giving Thanks I have lots to be thankful for and consider myself a very lucky lady. I’m married to the “bestest husband in the entire universe” and have a fantastic sister-in-law who’s more like a sister to me, her three children and their spouses, and my four grandnephews and two grandnieces. In addition, I have other family members and a wonderful circle of friends for whom I am very grateful. I live on an island in the Pacific Northwest and when the skies are blue and the air is fresh and clean, I think that a blind person need only take in a deep breath to “see” the color green. Above all things precious to me is the blessing of having been born in America – a country whose Founding Fathers recognized that we are endowed by our Creator with certain unalienable rights and incorporated those rights into the Declaration of Independence – the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. But, I would not have been so fortunate had my father not emigrated from Buchen, Germany. My father was the youngest of several siblings in a family of farmers. Because it was difficult for my grandparents to feed their entire family, it was decided it would be best for my father to go to America. So, in 1924, according to the family history, my grandfather sold a pig for $50 and sent my father off to America. He left Hamburg on the Deutschland, and arrived at Ellis Island on September 7, 1924. Had he not left Germany, he’d never have met my mother in Brooklyn, NY, and I would never have been born. It would not be for many years after his death in 1972 that I would truly recognize the invaluable gift he gave me. One of the few regrets I have is my failure to let him know just that. I’ve traveled on five continents and, while it’s always fascinating to visit other countries, there isn’t another place on earth I would rather live than in the United States. When I hear people complain about how bad things are in America, I often think of what I saw in Dakar, Senegal. I often think about the enclosed market in Dakar which housed rows and rows of fish, with no refrigeration other than ice, and not so fresh looking fruits and vegetables, which produced an almost unbearable stench as I almost skidded on the wet floors or tripped over the dozens of cats roaming through the aisles. It’s a very big difference from the comfort and convenience of shopping at my local Safeway or Walmart. No where in Dakar had I seen rows and rows of air fresheners or the myriad of deodorants, toothpastes, candies, bottles waters, or the variety of cereals we take for granted here at home. I saw one store on a main shopping avenue with an enormous table which had probably a hundred shoes to be picked through to find a matching pair in the correct size. It was a far cry from stores like Foot Locker which has dozens of athletic shoes neatly displayed in every size and color imaginable. While riding on the bus around Dakar, the streets were in such disrepair that the sidewalks were cracked wide open as if an earthquake had just hit the city. Buildings were gutted and rebar was removed to be used in other buildings. Some stores were actually old cargo containers now sitting upright. A very specific memory I have getting off the bus in Dakar was the dozens and dozens of goats in the streets preparing to be bought and slaughtered for the celebration of Tabaski. Alongside those goats, I saw a young man literally crawling on a dirt sidewalk begging for money.