SAVE THE RICH – THEY PAY FOR YOUR FREE STUFF

I OFTEN see people sporting T-shirts bearing serious ecological messages like: “Save the Rhinos” or “Save the Whales”.

I once had a colleague who annoyed several people by arriving at work wearing a tee shirt emblazoned with “Save the Rich”. Some of our earnest colleagues thought she was being frivolous or sarcastic.

She certainly was not among the rich herself, being just another underpaid newspaper reporter like the rest of us. In fact she was being completely serious and sincere in her choice of slogan.

Every country throughout the ages has needed a rich “upper-class” section of the population. The reason is very simple.

Rich people pay taxes. Poor people spend taxes by claiming welfare benefits for their support. As annoying as this might seem to the toyi-toying trade unions, we need the rich.

Without the rich we will all starve. Whatever the trade unions may like to think, there is no such thing as “Government Money”.

There is only taxpayers’ money. Without taxpayers there is no money.

Rich people pay taxes. How difficult is that to understand? SAA workers are striking for more pay. The SAA has shown quite clearly that it has no money.

You can shake an empty bottle for as long as you like. Nothing will come out. What do the strikers expect to happen? Another government bail-out?

Any “government” bail-out will have to come from somewhere. You choose. Your pension fund? Your children’s education?

Firing hospital staff? Reducing the police service? It’s only natural that low-income workers should feel resentment when they see Mr Munnibaggs driving up to his private parking bay in his long black Mercedes while they chain their rusty bicycles to the parking lot fence.

Life is not fair. Get used to the idea. From a very young age there are some kids who win all the prizes and sports cups, and others who just get by. Some people have an innate ability to make money. Others don’t. I remember a scruffy kid in my class in junior school who always had money. Nobody liked him, but he didn’t care. He sold comic books from his school satchel for 10 cents and would buy them back for five cents after you’d read them. (Ten cents was real money in those days.)

By the time he was 30 years old I heard he was a multi-millionaire. I was not surprised in the least. He would have made his millions no matter where he lived – Africa, America, Britain or anywhere. It was his talent to make money. The taxes he paid probably supported several hundred people, which is why I say as loudly as I can, “Save the rich”. We need them.

Last Laugh

Two friends were having tea. “I heard Mavis went to a plastic surgeon for a face lift,” said one.

“Yes, she travelled all the way to Paris to have it done.”

“But I saw her yesterday and she didn’t look any different.”

“I know. Her face dropped again when she got the bill.”