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Hi all, please see this major site announcement: https://www.boards.ie/discussion/2058427594/boards-ie-2026
Return of poll/home tax...
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13-01-2009 01:42PM#1
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If you don't agree, just emigrate?
Oh wait, every other country has some form of property tax so that rules that one out
This is true. I pay $4000 a year to the city where I live for the owning my own home and every year it goes up another little bit. But that money goes into the tax base for the city for roads, parks, trails etc.0 -
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Did anyone notice David Begg last night on Prime Time saying that he was putting a proposal to the government for a "more sustainable and equitable form of property related tax to replace the failed stamp duty system"???
Clearly code-speak for "I'm asking the government to reinstate poll tax"...
...or "the feckers are not giving us the money so lets bring in another tax 'cos we can make laws willy-nilly to force the last few quid out of their pockets!"
We need an Irish version of Robin Hood to steal back from these Dail thugs - but Ireland still sleeps on...
September 1913 by William Butler Yeats
What need you, being come to sense,
But fumble in a greasy till
And add the halfpence to the pence
And prayer to shivering prayer, until
You have dried the marrow from the bone?
For men were born to pray and save:
Romantic Ireland's dead and gone,
It's with O'Leary in the grave.
Yet they were of a different kind,
The names that stilled your childish play,
They have gone about the world like wind,
But little time had they to pray
For whom the hangman's rope was spun,
And what, God help us, could they save?
Romantic Ireland's dead and gone,
It's with O'Leary in the grave.
Was it for this the wild geese spread
The grey wing upon every tide;
For this that all that blood was shed,
For this Edward Fitzgerald died,
And Robert Emmet and Wolfe Tone,
All that delirium of the brave?
Romantic Ireland's dead and gone,
It's with O'Leary in the grave.
Yet could we turn the years again,
And call those exiles as they were
In all their loneliness and pain,
You'd cry, 'Some woman's yellow hair
Has maddened every mother's son':
They weighed so lightly what they gave.
But let them be, they're dead and gone,
They're with O'Leary in the grave.0 -
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...or "the feckers are not giving us the money so lets bring in another tax 'cos we can make laws willy-nilly to force the last few quid out of their pockets!"
We need an Irish version of Robin Hood to steal back from these Dail thugs - but Ireland still sleeps on...
September 1913 by William Butler Yeats
What need you, being come to sense,
But fumble in a greasy till
And add the halfpence to the pence
And prayer to shivering prayer, until
You have dried the marrow from the bone?
For men were born to pray and save:
Romantic Ireland's dead and gone,
It's with O'Leary in the grave.
Yet they were of a different kind,
The names that stilled your childish play,
They have gone about the world like wind,
But little time had they to pray
For whom the hangman's rope was spun,
And what, God help us, could they save?
Romantic Ireland's dead and gone,
It's with O'Leary in the grave.
Was it for this the wild geese spread
The grey wing upon every tide;
For this that all that blood was shed,
For this Edward Fitzgerald died,
And Robert Emmet and Wolfe Tone,
All that delirium of the brave?
Romantic Ireland's dead and gone,
It's with O'Leary in the grave.
Yet could we turn the years again,
And call those exiles as they were
In all their loneliness and pain,
You'd cry, 'Some woman's yellow hair
Has maddened every mother's son':
They weighed so lightly what they gave.
But let them be, they're dead and gone,
They're with O'Leary in the grave.
Great, now that we've got people complaining loudly and quoting bad poetry, we're just some catchy slogans away from being an ineffectual hippy protest!0 -
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