Because it's coming. You'll have to find a new way to get to work other than your car. Because all cars will be taxed. And it will be hefty too. It won't be worth owning one, the tax you'll have to pay on the damn car every year you own it, prorated proportionally monthy. All, new politicians will have it somewhere in those campaign-promises, this tax on cars. Else they'll be boo'd straight off the stage. Else they don't stand a chance, and might as well go tuck their underwear back in to their pants and go look for somewhere else to rob.
They got you all hooked on automobiles. You need them to go to the grocery store. You need them to get to work in order to make the money in order to go to the grocery store, in order to pay for the car you drive in order to get to the grocery store. Everyone has them, cars. So now, we're going to tax them. Take that.
Especially before all this oil runs dry. If the oil is gone, people won't need those cars anymore. They won't run without oil, these cars. So before the oil is gone, we'd better get them taxed.
So you junk the car, the nearest junkyard. They come get it out the driveway with the tow truck. No charge. Because if you're out driving that car yourself, besides the straight tax each year for owning the car, we put our police to good use. Out patrolling they are. If they catch you out with a car, and you haven't paid the daily toll to use the roads—which is hefty itself, this toll—then you're fined, and heftily too. It's just not worth it to own a car anymore. But some idiots will continue paying. Fine. We'll sink that money into health care for all, education for all, food for those who need, some public transportation maybe—if it runs off the sun, wind, water. We opened the land too, like Scotland, a natural born right. Camp if you must, fine. Live off the land without being persecuted, fine. If you don't pay your fines, you're shipped off to jail, which becomes like labor camps, fields of communal food.
But some people were wise, saw this coming, and packed their bags and moved closer to the job. Some already live close enough to walk. So they stay. And they walk to the job, and the grocery store, or wherever else they need to go. If you have no home however, unable to keep a job anymore without the car, we'll give you rations of food, cornmeal and rice and beans and potatoes. For housing, that's the proof for your food, that you live outside. You're allowed to live out there anyway, encouraged. Build a little shelter. Have a little garden.
Or you found a new way to go to work, without the car, and you have a job. So you can pay for your own home, your own food. Your reward. You live a bit more luxuriously than those who live outside. You just can't picture yourself living out there, you see them. Eventually, you'll buy new cars, hydrogen-powered, you can afford—all the new clean technology that'll be forced to be created—with the money from your job. But they're happy enough, to be true, those who live outside. They have food. They can make shelter. We have community wi-fi. They have a chance. Or they can just simply live their life. That's enough.
Grocery stores and other shops and businesses must convert to solar, or some other clean energy, wind or water. Or they pay a hefty tax. If you pollute, you're taxed—heavily, in degrees. We sink that money too into health care for all, and education for all, and food for those who need, and public transportation maybe—if it's clean transportation. Some businesses will close because. Others will convert. And still other new businesses will be started, opportunity created from the fallen polluters, if you create that same business, but environmentally friendly.
And more jobs will come. More people will have money, build houses that run cleanly. More everything will run cleanly, else it's taxed to the ground—in degrees. So innovation is forced to create clean products.
Or some folks are just fine living outside with their rations of food, not working a job. The Earth smiles. The weather calms. We're all healthy and all educated. Schools are simple buildings, filled with teachers who are highly educated, very well paid. Hospitals are the same, with doctors. Libraries are stuffed full of books. We make our poor strong. The rich stay weak, still spending their money on junk probably, the plastic supermarket food and plastic trinkets,—companies left still lingering round, still polluting, but paying their hefty fines in degrees, hoping to turn clean before they run-out of money, still making money—which makes them weak, focused on all these distractions, the rich. Their money has no more influence.