positively orwellian...from mass. Some of the proposals to gouge - oops, I mean tax - us are so ludicrous that it's tough these days to tell fantasy from reality. So far, measures to get more money from people have been highlighted by Gov. Deval Patrick's proposal for a whopping 19-cent gas tax hike that would effectively make us Taxachusetts again, as it would give us the nation's highest gas tax. Patrick also has floated an idea, referred to by many as "Orwellian" (after the author of "1984," George Orwell), to install chips into cars when people get them inspected so our mileage can be tracked and taxed. Those brilliant ideas followed Patrick's proposal to put tolls at Massachusetts' borders, thereby socking it to area commuters.
But Patrick isn't the only public official whose response to the economic crisis has been to devise ways to increase the burden on the folks still with jobs who are stretching like crazy to meet their financial obligations.
For example, Wrentham has put an $800,000 override of the state's tax-limiting law on the April 6 town election ballot, and proposals for another quasi-tax (officially a "surcharge") for the Community Preservation Act have been floated in Seekonk and Rehoboth. Local meals and hotel taxes are being discussed, and in a move that defines chutzpah, West Bridgewater selectmen have asked the Legislature to let it impose a local 5-cent tax on grocery bags used by people whose food bills are already out of sight.
The message in all this seems clear: All bets are off. So, with that in mind, here are some taxes you could see as the state resists slashing its bloated bureaucracy, prompting it to squeeze every penny out of us:
- The state has already proposed a higher tax on sugary food and soda, so what's to stop the state from taxing you every time you want something to eat in between meals? Nothing. Big Brother simply will force chips to be baked into any prepackaged snacks; tax information will be sent to the state, and presto, every time you snack, you'll pay. - The same Big Brotheresque technology will let the state tax us every time we sit down for a meal. Instead of saying grace, we will be, in Big Brother fashion, required to give thanks to the state via a 5 percent tax.
- State Department of Revenue agents will lurk about the entrance to stores, demanding 20 percent of our grocery bills as we leave. All will be reported to Hal the Computer, named in honor of the "2001: A Space Odyssey" villain.
- Like to run the roads for free? Forget about it! All running shoes will be linked to the Beacon Hill Big Brother Meter, and joggers, runners or walkers will be charged a $1-per-mile tax.
- Those whose idea of exercise is to position the foot rest won't be immune from the tax frenzy as they will be assessed a leisure tax, with a triple charge on holidays and Sundays.
- In a deal with the cable company, the state will tax you 20 percent every time you turn on the TV, sharing 5 percent with your cable provider.
- Don't watch TV? You'll have the honor of providing the state with revenue by being asked for a $20-per-hour fee every time you pick up a book. The state will know when you're reading because "smart chips" will be put in every new book.
- Want to spend Sunday afternoon playing Spongebob Monopoly? You'll be charged the state's equivalent of the luxury tax: 10 percent of the value of your money and properties you own at game's end.
- If the state's enthusiasm for fees makes you give up everything, you'll still pay $10 per peek at the moon.
- Even if you're afraid that just looking outside will cost you, you'll pay as just getting up and breathing will cost you $2 a day or $730 per year. The air tax will be shared with your town hall, which will levy an additional $2 a day "for the privilege of breathing your hometown air."
- Like to daydream? A mandated chip implanted in our brains will let the state charge us $75 per daydream. If all of this has you praying for a solution, you're out of luck. The state will find you, and you'll pay, too, because taxes and fees are the 11th plague. |
