Yesterday, I stepped out for a late afternoon fast walk while the curry simmered on the stove. This time of year my body distorts with mismanaged fat deposits, and I begin to look and feel as old as I am. Yet no matter how heavy and “blah” I feel, I know that a crisp walk will shake awake my brain, the most youthful piece of me, and jump start ideas in the dark.
I have been doubting the senate run for some time. Doubt is the only weapon used against us, for no one besides collective silence and heated conversations with myself is telling me to bow out. I know I am qualified (the constitution makes that an easy sell), however, I don’t believe that art is the best vehicle for change. Few, if any, “get” the mission of the artist. Henry Miller wrote that the true artist will abandon ship when the time is right. Leave it all behind, about face, do something else, or do nothing else—make sacrifices that the everyday Joe or Juliette finds absurd, even give up all the art, pull a “Rimbaud”, and disappear altogether.
And, I don’t feel like I want to help, viscerally help, people on an individual level. It may be that I am too sensitive. Just knowing the sufferings of one more person could very well send me over the top. Taken as a whole, “the people” are worth it though, as long as there is distance between us. I won’t campaign in a nursing home, for instance, because I spent enough time in several to know that all are underfunded, and some are viciously cruel. I know that I am the right senator to give back to our elderly tenfold of what is presently doled. But I don’t need great grandma and grandpa, nor their kin, to like me. I will do the right thing because I have an artist’s heart, which is mostly big like Santa’s.
Yesterday New York’s DNC chairman called the new democratic gubernatorial candidate an “unqualified lesbian”. That’s the Democratic Party chief organizer of the state, and is expected to be neutral in primary contests. Now, just two days after announcement, the candidate’s kissing choice becomes the news, not her popular progressive agenda.
I’ve had it with politics. I will become senator my way, or the highway, which I am already quite used to. My campaign will not involve the media. It is a corporate cash cow. It lies by omission. Small town papers are better, but enter the trolls, and a good effort to educate ends in a local hotbed of gossip fit for inmates and DNC chairpersons.
Artists must bring people together, and I intend to do it all on my lonesome, except during the petition drive when I hope to get some helpers.
Anyway, the walk. I came up with some economic legislative ideas. I don’t claim future success in turning any of these thoughts into laws. But boy will they make the takers think twice about running for state office on the avarice ticket. My main ambition with this campaign is to get on the ballot as the reform candidate. I want to show that an unsupported nobody with vision and a moral disposition can rise to the occasion. Any occasion, except the obvious ones like surgery and bridge building. Some things need a lifetime of practice to make a difference.
Politics is not one of them.
The following idea was one of several on my fast, four block walk. Taxes pay for people programs. If we nurture our neighbors in neighborhoods how we desire to nurture our own, then great peace will come. However, some sanity and taste must rule the day. And most importantly, taxes must never be pressed on the struggling—that is anyone in New York State who lives check to check. There is so much silly money out there. It’s just a matter of allocation, and harsh prisons for those who evade their civic responsibility of letting the bulk of it “go”.
N.Y. Billionnaire’s tax
A 69% state income tax after federal tax and an addendum to the law mandating billionaire real estate held in New York to be sold with an added 75% seller’s tax. This is a way to show the billionaire that he/she is welcome in New York, yet unrestricted capitalism will take a hard, very deserved hit to the solar plexus. We should all know by now, like our ancestors knew in 1850, that innovation doesn’t come from the super rich. It is born of hard work and time to think. Most any one is able, if he or she is willing.
A quick numbers reminder for those forgetting the difference between “m” in “millionaire”, and “b” in “billionaire”. Any man or woman with a billion dollars to put in a local bank, earning just 1% interest annually, would take a 10 million dollar yearly salary with the principle still intact and then some.
That’s it. That’s easy. None of you or me, even if we became superman turning the earth around with hyper galactic speed, will ever make that kind of money honestly. Neither did nor does the billionaire or billionaire-to-be. New York doesn’t need them. The 48th District doesn’t even know of them. However, New York as one, can find them and tax them down to millionairedom. It’s good enough, and nursing homes wash walls once again.
Remember, remember, vote Throop in November!