Exclusive Interview: Dickinson’s Tax Tyrant Joe Hirschfeld on Farts, Assessments, and Forcing Grandma to Downsize

A 'Real' photo of Joe Hirschfeld once he realized he can screw the whole city at once.

The Stark County Sentinel, Dickinson’s premier source for razor-sharp local satire, scored a rare interview with the city’s most loathed public servant: City Assessor Joe Hirschfeld.

Fresh off a town hall where he dodged tomatoes and insults with the finesse of a seasoned provocateur, Hirschfeld sat down with us—pausing frequently to savor his own flatulence—to defend his sky-high property assessments and his vision for a Dickinson where retirees “downsize or disappear.”

Here’s the unfiltered scoop, edited for clarity and to spare readers the full force of Joe’s smugness.

The Taxman Cometh: Hirschfeld’s Take on Public Outrage

Hirschfeld, dubbed “Dickinson’s Tax Tyrant” by furious residents, has become a lightning rod for controversy after suggesting at a recent town hall that struggling homeowners—particularly the elderly—should “move if they can’t afford the taxes.”

When asked about the backlash, including the case of an 85-year-old widow forced to sell her lifelong home to cover his tax hikes, Hirschfeld leaned back, unleashed a fart, and inhaled with a smirk.

“Look, I’m just doing my job,” he said, eyes gleaming with self-satisfaction.“These folks act like they’re entitled to live in their homes forever. Property values are up—on paper, anyway—and I’m reflecting that. If Grandma can’t pay the bill, maybe it’s time to trade that drafty old house for a nice studio apartment. Downsizing’s trendy! I saw it on HGTV.” (Pausing for another whiff) “My assessments are art. Pure art.”

Inflated Assessments: Sci-Fi Numbers or Visionary Genius?

Hirschfeld’s “art” has drawn scrutiny for its disconnect from reality. Take Mrs. Peterson’s bungalow, assessed at $450,000 but sold last month for just $220,000.

When pressed on the gap, Hirschfeld chuckled and adjusted his tie.

“Market’s fickle, my friend. If you haven’t attended a five-day class like I have, you wouldn’t understand. I’m not here to play real estate agent; I’m here to set a vision.”

That vision, apparently, involves imagining Dickinson as the Hamptons.

“Mrs. Peterson’s place has potential,” he said, eyes glazing over as he sniffed again.“Throw in a sauna, maybe some artisanal kombucha taps? Boom, $450K easy. People need to stop whining and start dreaming big.”

Clashing with the Council: Trusting Joe’s Gut

Hirschfeld’s assessments haven’t just alienated homeowners—they’ve raised eyebrows on the city council. Councilor Jenkins recently pointed out that his numbers are driving retirees out of town and lack support from actual sales data.

At the town hall, Hirschfeld spent 20 minutes urging the council to “trust his gut.” When asked why they should:

“My gut’s never wrong,” he declared, leaning forward and sniffing aggressively.“The council’s just pandering to the gray-haired vote. I’m the only one with the courage to say it: Dickinson’s sitting on a gold mine, and I’m the prospector.”

Gesturing grandly, he outlined his grand plans: a downtown espresso bar, a statue of himself wielding a calculator, and—why not?—a monorail.

“The elderly just need to get with the program or get out,” he added, pausing for another contented whiff.

Embracing the Hate: A Wall of “Fan Mail”

Hirschfeld’s comments about the elderly “hoarding valuable real estate” and needing to “stop clinging to sentimentality” have sparked calls for his resignation. But is he bothered?

“Oblivious? Nah, I’m flattered,” he grinned, adjusting his cufflinks.“Hate means I’m making an impact. Those calls are just love letters from people too cheap to pay their fair share.”

In a particularly telling moment, he revealed his office decor: a “Fan Mail Gallery” of framed angry letters.

“Keeps me motivated,” he said, winking as he sniffed yet again.

The “Vibes” Method: Assessing at 40 MPH

Rumors have swirled that Hirschfeld assesses properties by speeding past at 40 mph, glancing out his window, and picking numbers based on “vibes.” He didn’t exactly deny it.

“Vibes are underrated!” he laughed, nearly toppling his chair.“I’ve got a sixth sense for value. That, and my proprietary formula: square footage, plus curb appeal, times how jealous I think the neighbors are. It’s science.”

Pointing to his nose, he added:

“This bad boy doesn’t lie.”

Why bother with market trends or comparable sales when you’ve got a nose for truth?

A Message to Dickinson: Pickleball and Progress

As the interview wrapped, we gave Hirschfeld a chance to address Dickinson’s struggling residents. Standing up for one final sniff, he offered this:

“Embrace change, folks. Sell that sentimental old house, move to a condo, maybe take up pickleball. My assessments are your ticket to a modern Dickinson—a utopia of overpriced lofts and craft breweries.”

The Road Ahead: Visionary or Villain?

As Hirschfeld sauntered off, leaving a trail of indignation and stench, one thing was clear: he’s undeterred by Dickinson’s fury.

Whether he’s a visionary prospector or a villain with a calculator, residents will keep paying for his “art” until the market crashes harder than Hirschfeld’s empathy.

Stay tuned to The Stark County Sentinel for continuing coverage of Dickinson’s tax drama—and bring nose plugs.