The smell of wood smoke is high on the air as unattended house fires burn themselves out. There are distant sounds of screams and gunfire as a wave of crime rolls across the region. People in peril shout for help but there is nobody to come to their rescue. Faith in better times fades. Hopelessness abounds. Criminals in snowshoes run amok and terror rules the landscape.

I think you know I’m not big on politics. If I had one strong opinion on a hot-button issue, it would be lonely and afraid. I’m a fence-sitter from way back. I walk the middle of the road. Please add metaphors of your own here.

When people accuse me of being overtly conservative or flagrantly liberal, I have the ultimate defense: I’m too dim to have any sort of political bias.

Ultimately, it’s the truth. I refrain from political arguments, not because I loathe having my opinion out there, but because I have no real opinion to offer.

It may come as a surprise, then, that I have thoughts on the Palesky tax cap. Not strong opinions, mind you. Until recently, I thought Palesky was a weekend getaway spot in the Caribbean or a strong cooking spice. But try not getting acquainted with the issue when everybody from kindergarten up is talking about it.

Everywhere I go, people ask me about the Palesky tax cap. Cops at crime scenes, hoodlums on street corners, people leeching cigarettes in the park. There is something about the topic that inspires people to pontificate.

For weeks, I’ve been nodding a lot and completely ignoring their comments. Since I haven’t been asked to write news stories about the issue, I haven’t bothered to study it.

But lately, passions have become more inflamed. People don’t just pass along comments about the tax cap proposal, they corner me and demand that I listen. Opponents of the proposal speak of the Palesky tax cap as if it were a carcinogen.

Police are particularly wary. There is speculation that many, if not most, police officers would be laid off should the proposal pass. Some speculate that one or both of the local departments would be shut down entirely. The responsibility for citizen protection would be handed over to the sheriff’s department.

“Things are going to turn to crap, but nobody wants to believe that,” one ranking officer said.

Fear and loathing is present on both sides of the Androscoggin River. Police foresee a day when people in peril wait hours before help arrives. Smashed cars from auto wrecks will sit in busy intersections with the injured waiting, trapped and bleeding. Violent crimes will go unsolved because there is no longer the manpower for aggressive investigation. People will linger in hairy situations because there aren’t enough police to handle the rising number of calls.

“What will you do when you look out your window and see a face there staring back? Who are you going to call? There will be no one around to respond,” said another cop.

In grim tones, I’m told about fully staffed fire departments being disbanded. Trained crews will be replaced by volunteers. Even if they manage to scramble to a fire scene in time, law prevents them from entering a burning building unless a certain number of them are on hand.

Police and firefighters don’t just foresee headaches and lost jobs; they predict the loss of lives that could have otherwise been saved.

Because I’m a political bonehead, I have no idea how much of these are realistic visions of things to come. I’ve asked those with more savvy than I and they agree: The tax cap proposal could mean chaos. It could mean the disbanding of police and fire squads and a much smaller public safety net. School budgets could plummet, leaving kids with only the barest of learning tools to carry them to adulthood. No more shop classes, school sports or even busing to and from classes.

Yet, some of these people plan to vote for the tax cap. They pay ridiculous property taxes and they want it to stop. They will take their chances with cuts in public services to enjoy the savings on the tax bill.

There are rumors afloat that city leaders are already bracing for the backlash if the Palesky tax cap is voted in. Three out of four city employees could face layoffs, according to some predictions. How will they cope with garbage and snow removal while trying to stave off crime and chaos?

“You’ll save some cash,” said one opponent of Palesky, “But who will take your trash?”

“Four feet of snow,” said another, “and nowhere to go.”

So, there you have it. Catchy slogans and apocalyptic predictions were enough to snag my interest in a political issue. Maybe I’m growing up. Or maybe I’m just being selfish. Maybe it’s just that runaway crime would be good for business.

Mark LaFlamme is the Sun Journal crime reporter.

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