Today starts voting in Congress on the $700 billion taxpayer bailout package. Over the weekend, many in Congress got on television and tried to explain what they had put in the bill. Then the newscasters and pundits reported and voiced their opinions.
I don’t know enough about the contents of the bill to be specific, but it seemed to me most were trying to convey to the American people the benefits of the bill—like the checks and balances included, plus the possibility that in five years the taxpayer may get something back. They also made a big commotion about preventing CEOs from receiving their usual millions.
In other words, after the original proposal failed, this revised rescue bill will siphon from taxpayers incrementally, and is being sold with pretty wrapping paper and a card that says, “There will be an oversight committee to keep an eye on the money.”
I’m going to relate this situation to a story I heard many years back. I don’t recall where I heard it or if I read it somewhere, I do not know who wrote it. But I will tell it as I recall it. It might make you a bit squeamish and I warn you before you begin reading it.
Back during the last depression, food was scarce and many stood in soup lines in the cities. Some living in the country suffered from food deprivation. For many, they struggled to keep themselves and their livestock alive. Most everyone living in the country had horses, mules, cows, pigs and dogs. One old backwards farmer living out in the boondocks did not have enough food to feed his dog, but he loved his dog and couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. He came up with an idea to cut his dog’s tail off and cook it. He boiled it in an old iron pot outside, chopped it up, and fed it back to his dog, slowly, bite by bite.
Here’s the moral of the story: with tears in his eyes, every time the old farmer gave his dog a bite, the dog turned around and licked his master’s hand in gratitude.
Now the $700 billion bailout may not sound that gross, but they are cutting off your property (money) and taking it without your consent, with some vague nebulous promise that in five years they may return some to you. How about that sports fans?
Let Freedom Ring!