Remember, the village government of Oak Park collects only 12 percent of your property taxes. The bulk of your outrageous property tax wallop goes directly to the two local school districts. It is those kids with their smartboards and tablets and chocolate milk for lunch that are gobbling up your property taxes.
And most years the village board, very consciously, does not raise its share of the property tax because they know they must bow to the need to educate the unwashed masses. “We love the little children,” says Village President David Pope, “and besides, why should we mess with this great thing we’ve got going where everyone thinks we’re heroes because we almost never raise the property taxes!”
Might be an annoying fly in the good government goo this week as certain Oak Park gas station owners are talking out of turn about the mere 6 cents a gallon extra that a person might theoretically pay if they choose to gas up on the east side of Harlem versus the west side of the street.
It is unfair, they say, that with its home rule powers the Village of Oak Park can tack on an extra gas tax that sad little non-home rule communities such as River Forest and Forest Park aren’t allowed. The extra tax — just 90 cents for the village government if you splurge on 15 gallons — makes their stations non-competitive if they pass along the cost or it slices their profits if they absorb the added cost.
At least that is what they claim.
I don’t hear any of them saying thanks for the privilege of owning a gas station in Oak Park. They don’t seem to understand that running Oak Park takes a lot of cash. And it has to come from somewhere.
Do they think Oak Park is going to get by with two pennies of sales tax on every damn thing we buy? Or with the almost completely hidden municipal taxes tucked away on your escalating cellphone bills, your cable bills, your utility bills. Or the pigment tax if your house color strays beyond the standard palette. Or the extra tax on liquor (imbibed in your basement or at one of Oak Park’s finest establishments). Or the tax on French toast at local grills. Or the C-bags at $1.79 per. Or the ticket for a Christmas tree brought to the curb instead of the alley. Or the new monthly charge for hauling away bulk items even if you only put out puny little items. Or the tax on cigarettes because all the smokers are just too worn down by now to ever raise their nicotine-stained fingers to object. Or the fee added to your cable bill if you watch village board meetings. Or the permit parking fees for overnight parking in “on-street enclaves.” Or the real estate transfer tax if you ever manage to sell your house in this economy. Or the permit fees if you finally relent and redo that awful bathroom because you can’t sell your house. Or the tree tax if your private tree sucks up excessive nutrients that might otherwise have been consumed by parkway trees. Or the infuriating parking tickets. Or the users fee if you enter a parking garage via one entrance but accidentally leave by another exit. Or the child tax if you have a kid in the public schools and they walk or are driven to school by way of an intersection guarded by a crossing guard the village used to pay.
Don’t know about you, but I’m just grateful the village is so generous in allowing us to pay our property taxes to the schools.
