It is a well-established law of human progress in America that whenever a person accumulates more money than he can physically count, they develope a sudden, overwhelming affection for liberty. Nowhere on the globe is liberty worshipped with such pious fervor today as in the sunny peninsula of Florida.
In former times, the wealthy were obliged to pay for the upkeep of the nation that enabled their fortunes. Today this is a barbaric practice that would mean contributing to roads, schools, and fire departments of the masses. But modern enlightenment has delivered us from such vulgarity. Under the benign sun of the South, a grand experiment is underway. Dazzled by the hideous threat of a five percent net-worth tax in California, our premier financial barons, tech visionaries, and corporate titans have gathered their trunks, shed the oppressive burden of civic obligation, and fled to the welcoming arms of Wall Street South.
How inspiring it is to witness their holy procession.
They arrive in Miami, Indian Creek, and Palm Beach, carrying nothing but their modest checkbooks and a deep, unselfish desire to avoid state income taxes.
And what a miracle their arrival has wrought upon the native population.
Through the sheer force of their presence, these selfless magnates have elevated the value of Florida’s soil to heights hitherto unimagined. Where once a postal clerk or school teacher might foolishly dream of owning a house with a modest yard, the land has now been rendered far too precious for such uses. In 2019, a mere eight percent of Miami homes commanded a million dollars; today, nearly a third of the region’s shelters carry that exalted price tag. Cash now settles nearly half of all property transactions in West Palm Beach.
The native Floridian, whose wages remain obstinately grounded around $77,000 a year, looks upon the median home price of $420,000 with a spirit of awe. He understands, of course, that it would be terribly rude to compete with a billionaire’s wealth manager using a peasant’s thirty-year mortgage. Thus, out of pure politeness, the local working man steps aside, abandoning all thought of homeownership, and retreats into the rental market. Rules by benevolent landlords who cheerfully double the rent.
Should the local resident prove so stubborn as to already own a home, he is treated to further blessings. His property taxes rise to meet the grand nobility of his new surroundings, and the insurance premium swells to an invigorating $8,292. Florida is now a full 181 percent above the national average. It is a small price to pay to be #1 and for the privilege of breathing the same tropical air as the board of Citadel.
Yet, such are the ungrateful working class that many fail to appreciate these blessings. Rather than staying to marvel at the glass towers of Miami, working adults under forty-five are packing and fleeing the state altogether. This unseemly exodus is quite inconvenient for the aristocracy.
It turns out that while a billionaire can buy an entire island, he cannot persuade a Hedge Fund Manager to empty his septic tank, nurse his gout, or teach his grandchildren long division. The state is suddenly beset by a mysterious shortage of pediatricians, nurses, and service workers. Retail establishments are forced to trim their hours, and public infrastructure stumbles along like a blind mule. The grand state has accumulated billions in raw capital, yet lacks the basic human mechanics required to keep the lights on.
Nowhere is this grand design more beautifully refined than in the public schools.
To ensure that the offspring of the lowers are not corrupted by dangerous thoughts, our legislators have passed noble laws to protect the public. Teachers, paid the 50th lowest salary in the union, are now granted the priceless privilege of working under the constant, vigilant eyes of partisan pressure groups. Under the threat of felony charges, these educators spend their evenings taping brown paper over classroom bookshelves, lest an unvetted volume on civil rights or basic biology pollute the innocent mind of a child.
Meanwhile, through the grace of universal school vouchers, the state thoughtfully redirects public tax revenues to help affluent families pay for elite private academies. The wealthy receive an education designed to foster leadership, logic, and command; the worker’s child receives a hollowed out curriculum delivered by a revolving door of un-certified substitutes, carefully calibrated to teach compliance, quiet endurance, and a healthy respect for their betters.
It is a masterpiece of social engineering.
By keeping the working man perpetually bankrupt, hopelessly house poor, and educationally starved, we ensure he remains entirely too exhausted to bother with politics or corporate overreach. Trapped between an $8,000 insurance bill and a service economy wage, they have no time for unions, no energy for civic assembly, and no capacity to question the natural order of things.
The modern Gilded Age has arrived in full flower.
The golden carriages roll down the palm lined boulevards of Florida, while the men who built the roads walk quietly into the swamp, wondering did the American Dream ever exist.