The Art of Taxation, Or

Skinning a Cat Without It Yowling

brown and white cat sitting beside of glass window during daytime

In the grand tradition of statesmen who solemnly assure the public that a fleecing is for their good, Washoe County Commission Chair Alexis Hill recently declared it’s time to have a “conversation” about raising taxes. Conversations is a polite term for reaching deeper into the taxpayer’s pocket with the delicacy of a pickpocket at a church social.

“With our expenses outpacing our revenues, we’re in some trouble,” Hill lamented as if this predicament had descended upon Washoe County like an unexpected Nevada snowstorm rather than being the predictable result of their financial acrobatics.

Inflation, population growth, and the pesky habit of employees expecting pay have all contributed to a projected $27 million budget shortfall in Washoe County by 2026. Meanwhile, Reno anticipates a $24 million deficit, and Sparks—a city known for its unshakable optimism— is staring at a $12 million hole.

Inspired by the wisdom of the ages, Hill has identified the solution–taxes. Among the favorite options are an increase in vehicle registration fees and a little upward nudge to the sales tax—both delightful choices because they hit every citizen, from the weary commuter to the penny-pinching retiree, with the even-handedness of a steamroller.

“We are all experiencing our revenues not meeting our expenses,” Hill explained, pointing to the cost of pensions and competitive wages as primary culprits.

Naturally, the only recourse is to collect more money, not to, say, spend less of it.

In a fit of uncharacteristic realism, Sparks Mayor Ed Lawson admitted that his city might have to consider layoffs. On the other hand, Reno remains as silent on the issue as a gambler, hoping the house won’t notice his empty pockets.

Hill, however, insists that Washoe County has been a responsible steward of taxpayer money—an assertion that might have held more water if the public hadn’t just learned that one of its top officials, IT Chief Behzad Zamanian, earning a tidy $240,000 per year while reportedly gracing the office with his presence fewer than five days a month.

Zamanian, a proud Southern Californian by primary residence, has been defending his remote work situation with the confidence of a cat claiming ownership of a neighbor’s fish dinner. In his role as guardian of the public purse, County Manager Eric Brown insists that Zamanian is quite good at his job–his physical presence seems entirely unnecessary.

“I was quoted in the newspaper saying it’s concerning, and it is,” Hill admitted, as though the discovery of a highly paid ghost employee had taken her by surprise.

An investigation is now underway because nothing soothes public outrage quite like an inquiry that will likely conclude long after the taxpayers have resigned themselves to their fate.

Of course, Hill also has her sights set on property taxes because, as she helpfully reminds us, “we all know where the wealth in America is.” No doubt, the prospect of a “realistic conversation” about property tax increases will inspire the same enthusiasm as a rattlesnake in a sleeping bag.

But fear not—if they succeed in hiking property taxes, they might consider easing up on all the other taxes. And if you believe that, dear reader, there’s a guy with a gold mine at the bottom of Pyramid Lake he wants to sell you.

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