Outraged

by Paul Henry

  NOTE TO GOVERNMENT:

  So many services. So many departments. So many taxpayers’ dollars spent by so many experts. So many fuck’n reports. And so many damaged and dead children. Don’t allow democracy to stand in the way of stopping the carnage.

  CHILDBIRTH

  You will hear people say it is a miracle, or use such phrases as ‘the miracle of birth’. This is not of course meant literally. If it were a true miracle it would probably not be happening hundreds of billions of times everywhere on Earth every second. Bugs, birds, fish and, yes, ladies. Reproduction is as close to the opposite of a miracle as you can get. In humans, particularly, it is not even clever. It is so easy that it happens thousands and thousands of times a year by mistake. Those who are the best at it are often among the most stupid examples of the race.

  Some people who find it hard to reproduce and angst over it for years, spending many thousands of dollars on treatment only to fall pregnant naturally, will often describe the resulting life as a miracle child. This is completely false. The fact is that Nature sometimes fucks up and sometimes comes good. Nature just does its thing. We might angst, and we might tinker, but Nature just does its thing.

  It has nothing to do with a God either. It is not a blessing. It is not a curse. It is Nature. If God were able to bestow a child on a childless couple living a lovely life with enough money to tinker with the reproduction business, don’t you think He would throw a bone to the thousands of children born to poverty and war only to live a short and tortured life before dying? Wouldn’t He prevent the conception?

  MIRACLES:

  I am reminded of a deep discussion I had with Peter Williams QC. We were on a yacht, becalmed mid-ocean. The night sky was full of stars. ‘Life on Earth is a miracle,’ he said. ‘The odds against everything necessary for life on our planet happening so that we might look up at this sky, with this infinite number of stars and planets and galaxies, are so great it proves the hand of God at work.’

  I was of the opinion it proved the exact opposite. With infinite possibilities it was entirely impossible this series of unlikely events would not have happened somewhere. It was also highly likely that the inhabitants of the outcome of it happening would use the word ‘miracle’ to describe something entirely natural.

  SERVICE STATIONS

  You know what I want from a service station? Fuel. That’s it. On the rare occasion I need something else, let me find it myself or ask for assistance. Don’t offer me fuck’n chocolates or shit from wicker baskets on the counter. Don’t sell me on the latest promotion or competition as you thrust some scratchy into my hand or slide some explanatory note across the counter. Do me a favour and cut half a cent from the price of a litre of fuel and do away with the bloody supermarket-café shit. Oh, and I’m not collecting miniature dinky cars either!

  Also, it is one thing to take the service out of service stations and expect me to do all the forecourt work myself (I actually prefer to do it myself), but why do I have to queue at your counter to pay? And make sure you fill the water cans. Make sure you have window cleaners with bristles and sponge centre intact. While you are at it, perhaps a squirt of suds in the black water that barely covers the bottom of the broken bucket would be nice. Say, once or twice a year you could wash down the forecourt, too.

  As for paying before you pump — that’s the final straw, you Nazis! So you want me to park, walk inside and stand in your queue to leave a credit card. Go back and fill my car, and then return to stand in another queue to settle. And buy your fuck’n chocolates. Give me a mop and I’ll clean your filthy lino while I’m at it! Christ, we have come a long way in customer care. I know there are shits who will rob you blind, but do some profiling. Look at me and my car. Do I seriously look like I am going to do a runner? There must be a more convenient way to protect your business that doesn’t require the extreme inconvenience you force your customers to put up with.

  The fact is: life is far too short to be fucked around buying petrol.

  ANECDOTE:

  It was one of those rare occasions when I wanted something other than fuel. I wanted a car wash. Now, I dislike automated car washes, as I am of the opinion that they are either hopeless or, alternatively, will scour the shit out of your car. I was driving a rental, though, and as everyone knows rentals are completely bulletproof. They will not be scoured, can’t be dented or scratched, and never need water or oil. I waited in line to purchase a chit with a code to enter into the car-wash machine. Another stellar customer-oriented experience.

  When I got to the counter, I said, ‘I would like to purchase a car wash.’

  ‘Car wash isn’t working. Do you want chocolate?’ The bastard, putting me to all that inconvenience and now expecting me to buy his expensive fuck’n chocolates.

  I replied, ‘Yes. Are they free?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ this moronic bloke said.

  ‘Oh, I thought you were giving away chocolates to all the people you inconvenience,’ I said — and just left. The concept of customer care was blowing his mind.

  NOTE TO BP:

  I am not entirely sure why I hate you a little more than the other bastard oil companies, but I do.

  NOTE TO THOSE WHO CONSTANTLY COMPLAIN ABOUT FUEL PRICES:

  Have you ever wondered why you are prepared to pay double the cost of a litre of petrol for a litre of bottled water in a dairy? It is so much easier and cheaper to produce and bring water to market. You fools.

  TAX

  It’s a fuck’n outrage how much tax I pay. This is personal. I qualify for fuck-all and take advantage of even less. I have contributed not only personally, but also by creating extra taxpayers at huge personal expense, who like me are net contributors. How much tax is it fair to expect one person to pay? Why should you have to pay more tax just because you earn more, because you are smarter or work harder? Seriously, pause and answer that question. Why is it right that Paul Henry pays so much fuck’n tax?

  Obviously there are people who need assistance, and a small number of community items that must be purchased. Oh, and a fuck’n government we have to keep in Jack Daniels. But why am I being sucked dry? How am I expected to fill the tank on my boat? There are no fuck’n vouchers at WINZ to help with that!

  Back to my earlier question. Did you answer it, or did you just say, ‘Because you can fuck’n well afford it, Mr fuck’n Henry!’ Well, I don’t want to have to pay it. I want to buy another car, and in doing so pay more GST. Now GST is a fairer tax. The well-off pay much more in GST because they spend more. Yes, they do spend more! But it is my choice to spend more. I might pay tens of thousands in GST on one car purchase versus the chance to pay less than five thousand in GST on a modest new car, that to be honest will almost certainly run better.

  The well-off have much more expensive lives. Houses, cars, travel, exotic pets, spoilt children, costly lovers, stupid fuck’n boats … It all takes its toll and it all has to be maintained. It also keeps the wheels of commerce rolling. Employing people and consuming products. And you can’t do as much of it if you are paying too much tax.

  There are better ways, it’s just that for some reason they don’t seem to work in real life. On paper they are perfect. They rely on ‘trickle-down’. That is where, say, for example that lovely Owen Glenn finds he is paying 50 per cent less in tax and immediately celebrates by giving more money away and shouting himself another super-yacht. Isn’t it so much better that Owen gets another super-yacht with his money, than a bunch of MPs spend his money on a luxury fact-finding mission to Kazakhstan?

  We need to encourage the smart and hardworking to be smarter and work harder. We need to have great incentives to acknowledge the risks that those who invest in speculative ventures make. A great way to do that is to allow them to keep more of their money. That way, trickle-down will kick in. If only it worked.

  I am a fan of a flat rate of tax. First ten thousand in personal income, tax-free; everything else, 25 per cent for everyone. It is fair, ap
art from the fact that high-earners still pay more by sheer volume of income — but the thankless hordes will like that. Well, not actually like it. They won’t be happy until the rich and hardworking are poor and lazy like them. Shit, who will pay then? That’s the flaw in the tax system we have now!

  ALTERNATIVE TAX SYSTEM:

  On the average wage in New Zealand over a full working life, you will struggle to pay $1 million in income tax. You will naturally also be paying supplementary taxes in GST, petrol, your rates and so on. High-earners who pay the lion’s share of tax in any country will pay well in excess of $1 million in income tax, so why not cap income tax at, say, $2 million in a lifetime for any one individual? Once an individual has paid $2 million in personal income tax, that’s it. No more. You would need to be vigilant to make sure other income is not syphoned through qualifying individuals, but all that is possible. How many would come here to live tax-free? You have done your bit — thanks, and welcome. If you wanted to go tax-free immediately, just write a top-up cheque to the government and you are free.

  ANECDOTE:

  I once got close to losing my licence through multiple speeding infringements. Just before my points topped out, I received a letter from the police or Land Transport or some other outfit. It had a picture of a grieving mother on one side, and on the other a letter ostensibly from her to me, advising of the risk I posed to the mothers of other children who have yet to be killed by speeding drivers such as me … Not a bad idea. Well, why don’t I get letters from those who benefit from the outrageous amount of tax I pay? A picture of a beneficiary on one side, and text itemising how grateful they are that I contribute so much to their lives. Perhaps I could receive these from staff of government departments, or politicians?

  Dear Paul,

  Just a note to thank you for your continued forced support.

  Last week I watched two porn movies, drank five litres of vodka, and travelled to France on the back of … well, you.

  Here is a picture of me dining in a lovely bistro just a short limo-drive from the Louvre.

  Yours sincerely,

  [insert name of MP]

  QUESTION:

  If you can get a chit from WINZ for a TV and DVD player, isn’t it only fair that prostitutes are tax-deductible? (For all I know, you can get prostitute chits from WINZ!)

  LOCAL GOVERNMENT:

  Why does it cost so much to run? Fuck, they are forever empire-building. It’s water, roads and sewerage. Mow a few lawns, keep a few parks, and hold a few trinkets in a museum. That’s it. If I don’t need a civic reception in a ‘Cloud’, Len, no one does! We are well on our way to having the most perfect city we can’t afford to live in. Why don’t all the empire-builders go rail and rapidly fuck off?

  It is not just Len’s Auckland. There are Lens all over New Zealand. Some better, not many worse!

  IT’S LIKE YOU’RE IN MY HEAD, MR HENRY

  Dear Mr Henry,

  I just can’t believe the things I am reading in your book. I always thought we had similar beliefs, and so often I agreed with what you said on the telly, but in this book it’s like you’re in my head.

  Like you, I also distrust socialists. Fuck it, I hate them.

  I am just the same as you with the homos, too. Let them do what they want, so long as they do it quietly and out of the sight of the wee ones, I say.

  I can’t stand the fuck’n lazy bastards who spend my money on movies, lotto and glue. If it weren’t for them I could afford to spend more time on my boat with my friends Chrystal, Lacey and Tallulah.

  And as for the fuck’n bastards who come here and take our jobs. Fuck’n foreigners. Lazy bastards.

  What do you think of all the unwanted pregnancies? Fuck’n slutty youth these days. Little rutters, I say.

  And as for the towel-heads — Paul, you’ve given me strength.

  Anyway, more power to you, Mr Henry. I am going to pass your book on to some of my mates. I think one or two of them might be Labour voters. Slit my fuck’n wrists.

  This book should be compulsory reading at the universities. Full of dopey greenies and lefty dickheads.

  Good for you, I say. Thanks for saying what everyone should agree with.

  Yours,

  Norman Smythe

  Motueka

  P.S. Any thoughts on bestiality?

  Dear Mr Henry,

  It’s like you’re in my head! I am embarrassed to tell you that I was a Labour-voting solo mother on the benefit, so it is a miracle I even had the good fortune to come across your amazing, life-changing book. But I did, and you have awoken something in me. Since reading your book, cover to cover, I have gotten both a job and an abortion, and I plan to withdraw from my part-time university course ‘Maori for beginners’. Thank you for turning me into a valuable, contributing member of society. I hope I can make up to you all your taxpayer dollars that I have wasted. Please accept, as a token, the enclosed marine petrol vouchers.

  Yours with thanks,

  Beverly Shamlan

  Rotorua

  Dear Mr Henry,

  I just wanted to let you know your book has transformed my life. Well, actually it has transformed the way I think about my life. It’s like you’re in my head. It’s like I am reading a book I have written. Although I would never write it, and I will never speak out loud my support for it. Whenever I mention your name to my friends and acquaintances, and to colleagues at the secondary school where I work, I am always told you are a complete cretin. So I stay quiet. I just want you to know you are not alone.

  Sincerely,

  Anonymous

  THE ORIGIN OF …

  LESBIANISM:

  Although there had been some genetic abnormalities and abominations of social norms in the female race prior to the 1980s, which saw females gravitate to other females for comfort and sexual pleasure, the numbers were very small. These freaks were simply known as bewildered deviants, shunned by society and made to live their lives of mischief in shame and solitude. Mostly they ran bike shops or worked as travelling minstrels. Lesbianism proper was not invented until the early 1980s. It was seen as an entertaining distraction for weary men, and so was promoted as a way to launch the internet by Al Gore in the United States of America. It has subsequently become almost as popular as the internet itself, with some religions now recognising it informally as a legitimate alternative lifestyle for the less-attractive woman. Men have lost none of their initial attraction to it as a form of entertainment, and lesbian internet sites remain the most popular sites to this day.

  AFFAIRS:

  It is how I met both of my current lady friends, and how you probably met yours. Affairs initiated by men have been with us since the great Dust Bowl of the early to mid-1930s, centred in the Oklahoma Pan Handle. They started completely by accident and entirely innocently. Men, confused by depression, overwork and poor nourishment, were unable to distinguish their women when covered in dust, from the lady folk of other men. The resulting sexual excitement was so appealing that the rest is history. And just like the Dust Bowl itself, when the dust finally cleared, the true devastation was apparent and very hard to reconcile.

  Women do not initiate affairs because they have no sex drive to speak of, and because their senses are more highly tuned than male senses, meaning they can more easily detect the differences in items covered in dust. The intrinsic desire to clean things also stems from this event in history, and is the origin of the common phrase: ‘On your hands and knees, woman — the place is a mess and my pants have fallen down.’

  THE NEW ZEALAND LABOUR PARTY:

  In 1852, the famous explorer and adventurer David Livingstone was trekking along the mighty Zambezi when he came upon a small tribe of criminals. Initially terrified, he soon realised they were relatively harmless due to two things. First, their numbers were small, and, secondly, they all held the same socialist beliefs that were so unworkable that Livingstone presumed the group was doomed to a dismal and eventless life of misery. Attracted as
he was to anthropological science, he decided to relocate these simple, bewildered individuals to a new land discovered only a hundred years earlier by a relative of his, Captain James Cook. Once liberated in the ripe country of New Zealand, this small tribe ran amok and thrived in a way no one could have imagined. They formally launched their ill-conceived plan for life as a political movement in 1916 and called it ‘the New Zealand Labour Party’. To this day it attracts pick-pockets and the politically bewildered, and increasingly struggles to be seen as relevant. It has evolved little since being extracted from the African jungle.

  VERY RICH PEOPLE:

  The first very rich person was Jesus Christ. His father, Mr Christ Snr (known as ‘God’) commissioned a man called Noah to build him the first super-yacht. This story has been bastardised through history, largely due to Mr Christ’s inclusion of a zoo on board. This then became a dalliance of the rich, to capture and house large collections of exotic animals. While none has come close to the legendary menagerie of Mr Christ Snr, a Mr W Hearst and a Mr M Jackson, both of the United States, were among the many rich individuals to run personal zoos as an amusement.