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If You See This
Tax A’rockin’, Susan DuQuesnay Bankston
Fort Bend County Commissioner Andy Meyers is not a made-up character. He’s real. I know it’s hard to believe. One of my customers describes him as The Slightly Dotty Pillsbury Dough Boy of the Religious Right. Dough Boy is meant as a play on words; Andy is greedy. You can’t get much whiter or righter than Andy Meyers and maintain any semblance of sanity. A couple of people have tried and ended up holed-up in cabins in Montana with major artillery and a hoard of Slim Jim Beef Jerky. Like many of his rightwing Republican brethren, Andy Meyers is certifiably wacko obsessed with two things: (1) taxes, and (2) sex. He is not in favor of either one, so y’all need to quit it, dammit. I don’t know who the Andy Meyer-type folks think pays for their nice offices and their exorbitant salaries. Maybe he believes in little tax pixies. Rightwing Republicans like to “cut” taxes with smoke and mirrors. Remember when our Governor told us that we got a big ole tax break here in Texas and the next thing we knew our kids’ college tuition at state universities tripled overnight, your property taxes went higher than Keith Richards on tour, and your fishing license renewal cost about the same fair price as movie show popcorn? That was when I decided that I couldn’t afford any more of these Republican tax cuts. Republicans like Andy think that only three groups of people should pay taxes: young people, the middle class, and anybody who has sex. I can prove that statement. Come on, dare me. This isn’t any fun unless you dare me. Okay, get ready to part with your best bar-be-que recipe because I’m gonna win this bet. (You really didn’t think I’d want something silly like your car or your money, now did you?) If you look at today’s Commissioner Court agenda, you’ll see this item:
Okay, so I see the words Andy and tax in the same sentence and I get a nervous tic in my right eyebrow. Tax. Andy. Oh my goodness. This could not be good. Faster than a bullet with legs, I pull my personal copy of the Texas Occupation Code off the shelf in the Ladies’ Room and flip to Section 2153.451 as fast as I can. Sure ‘nuff, you can tax vending machines in Texas. However, some machines are exempt from tax. Here is an exact copy from the law: Sec. 2153.004. EXEMPT MACHINES. This chapter does not apply to: (1) a stamp vending machine; (2) a service coin-operated machine; or (3) if subject to an occupation or gross receipts tax, a: (A) gas meter; (B) food vending machine; (C) confection vending machine; (D) beverage vending machine; (E) merchandise vending machine; or (F) cigarette vending machine.
Okay, that starts limiting stuff. You can’t tax the Coke or the Doritos machine. You can’t even tax pay toilets because the law defines a service coin-operated machine as “any kind of machine or device, including a pay toilet or telephone, that dispenses only a service. The term does not include a machine or device that dispenses merchandise, music, skill, or pleasure.” Okay, think for a minute. Exhausting all other possibilities, there would only be three coin-operated things you could tax: vibrating beds in hotel rooms, condom dispensing machines, and jukeboxes. No, I’m serious. Think about it. That’s all that’s left. This man wants to tax sex. On the upside, it’s a known fact here in Texas that if you take away jukeboxes and hotel vibrating beds, you don’t need any condoms. Now I don’t want to get too technical here, but how are we going to collect these taxes? I mean, a job description of “go to the men’s room at gas stations and honky-tonks and count the condoms in the machines” isn’t going to attract the high caliber of employee we’ve become accustomed to in this county. Or, how ‘bout the Deputy Assistant Tax Assessor who has to dutifully stand beside the vibrating bed and collect a dime every time it’s used? I dunno. That just doesn’t seem real cost effective. And if we tax jukeboxes, I know some ole Hank Williams fans over at Crazy Manny's Flood Insurance Company and Ice House whose boots are bigger than Andy's rump. There could be some serious butt-kicking. You cannot put a tax on Patsy Cline, Honey. I flat love living here. We’re not the only county in Texas with a county commissioner who spends his days pouring over law books looking for a way to tax hoochy-koochy, but we’re the only county who is proud of it! You lost the bet. Email my recipe here. Don’t make me have to come get it.
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