YOU PORK, YOU PAY...

A Ford Probe -- the mother of far too many mothers...


Those fine filching folks at the Comal County Tax Assessor/Collector's Office have deemed that I am to pay $3,842.84 to help edjumacate the little darlings who, by fate, just happened to be pulled from local loins. This notification arrived in yesterday's mail; it was also made perfectly clear that the penalties associated with non-compliance are both unconscionable and unjustly unrelenting.

Now let me get this straight: two people I don't know and probably would not like if I did decide to probe one another in the back seat of a Ford and nine months later out comes, statistically speaking, a little pendejo who I now have a significant financial responsibility to nurture K1-K12. It doesn't matter if the little bugger's name is Shaquanna or Stephanie or Suharto or Sancho or Abdul-Shakeel...I must pay even though I received no pleasure when they were being conceived, am receiving no benefit from their existence now and will by all accounts receive no benefit in any way in the future either.

Do I hear cries of protest???

I know what you are thinking -- little Tyrell will someday cure cancer. Dream on. With the existing educational system here in the U. S. of A. he will be lucky to be able to make change at Wendy's. Forget about changing the world.

Here's the bottom line: Whether the sex was good or bad, I am the one who is getting screwed. (You don't think there is such a thing as bad sex? Try a romp in the hay with Nancy Pelosi.)

Again, just what do I get for my money? Unless the school sends someone over to occasionally mow my yard or wash my car or plunk my magic twanger, then I get squat. And I hate squat. Andy Devine hates squat. Admit it, you hate squat.

So -- if YOU pork, YOU pay. And leave me the hell alone...