Rich New Zealanders become 20% richer

http://www.nzherald.co.nz/politics/news/article.cfm?c_id=280&objectid=10741536
The richest 150 New Zealanders today exclaimed their disgust that they had only become 20 per cent more obscenely rich in the last year and not 100 per cent grotesquely opulent.

In a time of economic recession and public spending cuts the richest 150 New Zealanders expressed their dismay as they couldn’t afford to buy the entire country outright. Close mate and fluffer, John Key, shared in their shock: “It’s a sad day when rich people can only become drastically richer while the rest of population loses jobs and state assets. Rich people were sent here by God and I for one won’t stand by while they can’t afford to buy Niue in one foul swoop. And in a World Cup year, we should all be ashamed of ourselves”.

Part time blogger and full-time wanker, David Farrar, commented: “How can this country ever expect to get out of the third world when we’re treating our nation’s best like this. Surely during a time of economic recession we should be giving these billionaires our children and Toyota Camrys, not school funding in the form of tax cuts, or a pesky New Zealand owned bank.”

Ministers were also astonished by the revelations. Anal enthusiast Rodney ‘five fingers’ Hide said: “I mean where do these bloody socialists think the money’s gonna come from for their state funded ‘health’ and ‘education’ and ‘housing’ (while frantically making air quotes with his fat little fingers). It’s made clear by these latest figures that the rich clearly can’t afford to give any more in tax. The poor bastards have only increased their wealth by a fifth in the last year! How do you expect to buy five thai lady-boys on that salary. It’s ridiculous.”

Bill English put down a small child he was eating and shared in the sentiment: “Let’s get real New Zealand, how are we going to afford put our kids through a decent state education when the richest New Zealanders are only getting richer by 20% during an international recession. It’s time to stop living on some cloudy dreamland where Lefties say we can afford to raise the minimum wage and throw money away on things like public transport. If my mates can’t afford to build a giant golf course from Henderson to Opotiki then what hell can they do.”

National MP, Murray McCully, sympathised and recanted an anecdote: “Recently I had some snivelling woman in my office who was being repeatedly beaten by her husband. She was wining on about how the local Women’s Refuge centre had closed due to a withdrawal of government funding and consequently she was unable to escape her abusive partner. I told her in no short terms that Graeme Hart has only $6.5 billionaire dollars, there’s simply no money! I’m a personal friend of Graeme’s and he has told me that his bags are packed sitting by the door and if the tax rate is raised (or returned to what it was before John cut it) by just one per cent, he’s gone. He’s already bought his tickets to Korea where there’s still some sense of perspective and the country isn’t held to ransom by the arrogance of the working classes. When this supposedly ‘battered’ women had the gall to enquire as to exactly how many millionaires would there have to be in New Zealand before we could afford to provide such basic services I smacked the tart square in the face and told her to get the hell out of my office. Some people, honestly.”

-END

 

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About jrkuwanski

Born of an Inca tribe in Peru, J.R. was raised by silver-tailed wolves in the Amazon rainforest. At age 7, J.R. departed on a treacherous journey to the Nepalese Himalayas and, following a lengthy debate with the Dalai Lama about the merits predictive texting, moved to Brooklyn, New York. For the following decade the writer learned the street poetry of 'the corner', becoming a familiar face on brownstone stoops, housing project courtyards and anywhere where a good salad dressing was sold. At age 17, when riding home from a 12 hour bowling marathon with his friends Mr Def and Mr Tip, J.R. was greeted by a Sri Lankan wizard who was wearing a bright purple velour tracksuit. The ghetto preacher told him he was destined for great things, ranging from baking one hell of a pumpkin pie to Nobel Economic accolades. Another fate was to craft the world's best blog, writing on topics of social and political commentary in a style of creative non-fiction. And the wizard promised him if he tried hard enough, really tried, one day, someone, somewhere may consider publishing his work.
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