Rain isn’t yellow.
But recently, I watched a video about rising property tax valuations in my county — and you’d almost think it was.
I wasn’t convinced. From the start, there was a gap.
The speaker never introduced themselves. No name, no title, no official role. No credentials. No source citations. No links. Just an anonymous voice explaining how my property tax valuation was calculated — and why it was “fair.”
The tone was neutral, almost mechanical — like they were walking through a tutorial, not representing a decision.
The video was uploaded to a personal YouTube page and reposted on Facebook. No county seal. No disclaimer. No indication of whether the message was official or unofficial, public or private, authoritative or advisory.
It just started talking — and expected to be believed.
When someone asks you to accept their version of how anything that impacts you is functioning — especially when it affects your wallet — the burden is on them to establish who they are and why you should listen.
In that absence, I couldn’t help but wonder:
Why wouldn’t a speaker attach their name to their words?
In the end, instead of clarity, I walked away with more questions — not just about the numbers, but about how language was being used when a big system was trying to explain itself.
One line stuck with me — one that the speaker framed the process with and closed with:
“Everyone pays their fair share — no more, no less.”
It sounds right. It feels right.
Noble, even.
But that’s exactly why I paused.
Shouldn’t it just be my share?
That’s what property taxes are — not a shared burden, but an individual one.
And when the language shifts, the meaning does too.
Most of the time — ninety-nine point nine percent of the time — phrases like that pass by without harm. They’re meant to reassure. And usually, they do.
But now and then, they don’t.
That’s when to listen differently.
Not just to the words — but to our inner ear.
Some people call it a BS detector. Maybe intuition. Or gut.
We all have it.
And in most moments, it’s not sweeping the area for threats. It’s not on high alert.
But a politician was speaking… so, yeah.
That’s a healthy level of skepticism — the amount that asks how the language is being used, especially by someone in a position of power.
Someone who interprets the rules. Pulls the levers. And frames the message.
The questions aren’t complicated:
What are you trying to tell me?
And how are you choosing to convince me?
Because sometimes, even with good intent, words don’t all mean the same thing to everyone.
Take the word “fair.”
In fair share, the burden — or the benefit — is framed as collective.
But with property taxes, it’s not.
When my valuation goes up, I don’t split the gain with you.
And when I sell my house, you’re not getting a cut.
They might. But you won’t.
The burden is mine. The benefit is mine.
It’s not a shared experience — it’s a personal one.
Common, yes. But not shared.
In fair market value, the term is objective.
It means what a willing buyer would pay a willing seller.
It’s grounded in finite economics — not infinite emotion.
Other taxes are shared. This one is on you. It’s a mathematical reflection of your status, your station in life, and — though not subtly — your capacity as a taxpayer. Because it’s based on your real property. Not everyone’s. Yours.
Those are two very different ideas — and using them interchangeably, in the same breath, is rhetorical sleight-of-hand.
A budget times a levy can’t create uniform and proportional valuations.
That’s not how the system was designed to work.
But that’s not what we’re seeing.
We’re seeing higher-value, higher-status homes with smaller valuation increases — yet nearly identical levies.
Less appreciation should mean a lower valuation — and a smaller levy.
That’s equalization.
A home that didn’t gain value shouldn’t carry the same tax burden as one that did.
The increased home enjoyed more benefit this cycle.
Its share should be higher — proportional to that benefit.
But that’s not what we’re seeing. So what’s undoing that logic?
Meanwhile, deteriorating, less desirable homes have seen massive spikes — some as high as 45% — despite no improvements, and no increased demand in the surrounding area.
If anything, the reality is depreciation, not appreciation.
We’re watching the opposite of what should happen — happen.
It’s not proportional.
It’s not uniform.
And it’s not how the math was intended to be used.
Valuations come first.
Then comes the budget.
And from there, the individual levy is calculated.
The math that generates the levy is based on my valuation — not yours.
And yours is based on your valuation — not mine.
That’s not shared math.
It’s individual math, scaled.
And here’s the part that matters most: the math.
Corrective actions — serious enough to be required by law — apparently have no effect on it.
The narrator says the northern half of the county — along with most of the towns — has been fully reviewed.
If that’s true, then we’d expect to see some kind of catch-up. A distinct correction.
After all, if properties have been undervalued for years, wouldn’t a full audit lead to a measurable adjustment?
Not just more of the same — but a break in the pattern.
But that’s not what happened. The northern half — the part they say is now “done” — saw the same level of increase this year as it did before.
And the southern half — which hasn’t been reviewed yet — saw increases just as severe.
So what changed?
Or didn’t change, exactly?
If the correction didn’t result in a difference, what did it correct?
And when they finish Beatrice and the rest of the southern half next year — should we expect the same?
Because if corrections don’t show up in the results, then maybe they were never designed to.
Maybe the outcome is already baked in — and the review is just the formality that gets you there.
Back to the words.
To be fair — we all do it. Use words the wrong way.
Sometimes it’s intentional. Most of the time, it’s not.
I do it. I’m trying to persuade you. But I’ll tell you that openly.
I want you to see something from this perspective — not because it’s mine, but because good ideas, when clearly seen and clearly communicated, tend to be universal.
But persuasion comes with responsibility.
Power comes with more.
Some will say, “They’re just words — the law is what matters.”
Exactly. And words are the law. Their meaning carries intent. Their intent defines application.
The State Constitution doesn’t mention “fair share.”
It requires that property taxes be uniform and proportional — not fair in a moral or rhetorical sense, but proportional in a legal and mathematical one.
“Fair share” is subjective — rooted in moral or political framing.
“Fair market value” is objective — grounded in economic reality.
When subjective rhetoric is used to justify a legal process, it signals a drift — from legal application to political persuasion.
That’s not interpretation. That’s misapplication.
Your property taxes are not a shared burden in the rhetorical or moral sense.
They are individualized — proportional, as much as possible, to your real property.
That’s not just the policy. That’s the law.
So when someone in power wraps up a complex process with a line like “everyone pays their fair share” — that’s not rain filling your boots.
And that tells you something.
Because if the process were properly understood, properly applied, and properly administered, then the slogan would reflect that.
Marketing 101: You have to understand what you’re selling.
And what they chose to say tells us a lot about what they think we’ll believe — and what they think will pass.
But rain still isn’t yellow. Or that warm.
If we want trust in public systems — in taxes, in policy, in leadership — it has to rest on more than misappropriated slogans.
Words aren’t enough to earn trust — certainly not nameless ones.
It requires actions aligned with intent — to reach results that are uniform and proportional.
Trust begins with honesty.
It’s end result is clarity.
And in between — are the words that matter.
A slogan is no replacement for clarity.
Trust is built on transparency.
And transparency begins with truth.
In that opaqueness, the structure becomes unseeable.
If we don’t have a clear view, we lose our bearings — and the system drifts from the law.
That’s a danger. Clear and present.
– Max