Wool-gathering continues unabated

Should not the childless be permitted to sprinkle via their pet poodle or, maybe, their goldfish?

I understand that a lot of people are upset that certain others, i.e. doctors, lawyers and farmers are receiving a preferential 10-15 per cent tax rate on their income. Don’t count me among the upset.

I see it from their perspective. For instance, what if you are a doctor, without children, and you don’t get to sprinkle. Now, is that fair? Should not the childless be permitted to sprinkle via their pet poodle or, maybe, their goldfish? I’d be OK with that.

And what about our lawyers — the keepers of the sacred flame, the tax code — who have always and everywhere been traduced to the point of malignity? How are they to achieve their aims while proudly disporting themselves, burdened with this wretched reputation? You know, why not make common cause with the good folk — the physicians and the pharmers. And, who would notice, or even care about, the occasional lobo interspersed within the fold?

Mind you, it is possible to hear a different, more plaintive bleat among the more closely sheared. That ovine opines that the foregoing is nothing other than a species of fascism and, as such, an assault on democracy. And, they do have a point, but if you can’t trust your local care nor crop nor counsel provider (as well as various others, the better to sanctify), then who can you trust?

Bear with me; I’d like to try and answer that. Not so long ago and on our indispensable Compass, I believe it was, I heard our Premier Wade MacLauchlan make reference to the outsized proportion of luxury cars here on the Island. I think he was trying to make a case for his government. Who knew he was merely explaining the more salubrious effects of our federal tax policy? No matter, as Wade, it seems, is handing off to the feds on this one. You have to admire his evenhandedness.

Our local MP Sean Casey, however, is more tied to the stake. He informs us of how attentive he is to the concerns of his constituents and how faithfully he shall reproduce their voice in Ottawa. Now, I’ve heard of the candied tongue but I’m not sure what to make of the phrase, candied ears, as poor Sean has made his available to the more socially connected. And, whether, candied tongue or candied ears, it is a distinction without a difference, as thrift may follow fawning in either case. Sean will be OK.

And, as for our feds, it’s hard, as not to be impressed by their fine sensibilities. Must come in handy in a Parisian salon or an avant-garde art gallery. I’m afraid I must remain out in the cold, with my fellow travelling non-Sprinklers. I have so little French, and can’t tell a Cubist from a condom - pristine, not otherwise. (I mean the condom, not the Cubist.)” But there’s nothing wrong with my nose, and I’m advising one-and-all (Sprinklers excepted, who’ve gone nose-blind, necessarily) to stay the hell away from Denmark.