By Javier Boher
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What a barbarian, dear reader! One can hardly laugh at anything anymore. Between the general situation – which is more complicated than getting a good photo of Máximo – and the sensitivity of the serial cancellers, every time you make a joke you have to be aware of what new accusation is going to fall on your head.
If we continue at this rate, at any moment the political humor will end up looking like an extract from a Nat Geo program on the cross-fertilization of apricots, although there will be no shortage of saying that you don’t have to be machirulo because there are also apricots. So we are, that laughing at those who make us raise our tension offends some social student who hyperventilates if they touch the leader.
Weekly summaries are not even worth doing anymore, because they all end up being more predictable than Bielsa’s teams. Every week has been the same for about six months: gasoline (or bread, or meat, or the dollar) rose, a new attack against justice (from Alflojerto Fernhámbrez, La Desaforada or the Pimp of Recoleta, or of the henchman of occasion), a minister of Alberto leaves so that a graduate of the theocratic school of La Cámpora arrives and a new tax is debated to tax those who already pay taxes, as well as a new social plan for those who already collect a social plan.
What a dish, dear reader! Do you remember when they laughed at the “we are going to go in the same direction, but faster” of former president Miauri? These guys take his advice to the letter, except they chose a different wall for us all to screw up together. Of course, not even there is solidarity: yes or yes the bulk of citizens are going to have a worse time than they do, as always.
More taxation
I don’t know if he followed the issue of income tax reform more or less closely, but it is more or less like this. Let’s loosen the employees a little and adjust the employers a little, by electoral mathematics. Perhaps in the head of someone trained by reading the small Marxist-Leninist library of Editorial Anteo that is barbaric, but the guy who has a warehouse and now has to pay profits should not be very funny.
We have reached an incredible point, dear. The president has a ministry of economy and a ministry of production, but the only strategy they have is to extract money from those who want to show their heads and not depend on anyone other than their own efforts. Perhaps we should rename them Mystery of Economy and Mystery of Production, because it is unintelligible that there are people who insist on entrepreneurship.
A few months ago they cried profusely with the departure of Quino (another important name in Alféretro’s management), who despite his negative portrait of poor Manolito also recognized his desire for progress and the will to work, or the intergenerational improvement of the immigrant. It is clear that Quino did not like the entrepreneurs, but the small merchants earned him some respect.
The dreams of the little co-star of seeing the family store grow in the vignette of the illuminated “Manolo’s” poster today would be harshly fought by the anti-progress political leadership of the national government. They prefer the impoverished and romanticized neighborhood warehouse to a modern and thriving company. Not even the microenterprise is saved anymore.
So far this term, the boys have filled their mouths with words about generating work and increasing production, but they have not taken a single measure for the benefit of entrepreneurs, except to help casino owners who finance campaigns. Just thinking about sharing wealth, regardless of where it has to be generated, quickly ends up being sharing poverty.
We have double compensation, increased profits, a stocks that do not allow us to import inputs or charge the full price of what is exported, guarantees for union extortions, monitoring of companies’ stocks, put maximum prices or fines that deny the basic laws of the economy, inflation and lack of credit. Meanwhile, the average BAE for EPEC employees was over $ 430,000 about 25 times the minimum wage. There you have oligarchs, brother.
The truth, dear, there is no longer any doubt. Seeing how they persecute the entrepreneurs, it is fixed that there is no more money. Not at all. Drier than a bricklayer’s hand. They are seeing how they do to breed her, but some have already realized that the fat cows went with the Nestornauta.
I don’t know if he heard about the issue of handbags on Public TV, that of the withdrawals of millions of pesos per window that were supposed to finance a new production (it must be about the ’70s, that’s why they want to maintain the vintage style by paying in cash and without invoice, as before home banking). It smells to me that some of them are rushing to take the chandeliers and the dishes away because they are enlivened that the party is never going to start. Eye to louse.
So far we come, dear. Between the coronabicho (who already made him the pancake for his first year), inflation, recession, insecurity and the sea by car, one more week does not seem like a small thing in this country. Let’s cross our fingers and try to survive this one happily. One week at a time.
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