We have not yet completed the first week of October and for some, the panorama on the wallet already gives the impression of being at the end of the month.
No, I’m not talking about students, more and more of them are floundering in the pool of precariousness, constantly irrigated by small cuts on APLor dizzying and inflationary increases on basic necessities…
I’m not talking about those women who raise their children alone, or those who are forced to to declare alimony as income from taxes, when those who pay it check the box which exempts the same amount from tax.
Quite a magic trick, isn’t it? It’s beautiful eh, it’s French.
In short, it’s not about them I’m talking about either.
No more than those who are over 60 years old, with small pensions, and who live below the poverty line, even if they are now more than 2 million in this country which has just over 67.
No no, I’m not going to talk here people from beloweven if we have to listen to them and respect them bla-bla-bla all that, but I will rather mention those who have REAL problems making ends meet: Michel and his friends in the government.
I’m talking about the government of now, but we know that the one before, the one before that, or the one now, it’s the same thing eh. I have tired my eyes enough playing the seven differences game to distinguish perfect twins or triplets when I come across them.
In short, closing a budget sometimes requires the same kind of effort as having to leave the last button of your jeans closed when leaving a cocktail lunch with Gérard Larcher. Closing a budget is like filling a bathtub with a thimble: it’s not easy. And it’s certain that it’s still not a practical project if, for seven years, the overall policy has been to drill holes large enough in the enamel to let the Costa Concordia pass through…
Ah, a sacred destiny all the same as that of our Prime Minister Michel, who, until three months ago, was undoubtedly hesitating between two brands of herbal tea in the evening before going to bed, and who must now roast his own arabica at the sweat of his brow to try to solve this equation with twelve unknowns left on his desk by his new boss.
Personally, I did a literary section because I had committed the feat of having a zero average in maths in the last quarter of the second year (and yet having taken three sivouplé tests) (and repeated my second year) ( in short), then I’m not going to start giving algebra lessons, but let’s say that as long as you don’t take a little, or even a little more from the very, very, very rich, it’s going to be hot for chestnuts to compensate by taking 50 euros here and 5 euros there on the taxes of the not very very rich.
Be careful, I’m not against taxes, on the contrary, I’m their biggest fan, especially when I have emergency surgery and it doesn’t cost me a single euro.
But let’s say that if you want to fill the bathtub Michel, you’re going to have to roll up your sleeves a little and tax the rich.
Or let the left do it.
Looking forward to Monday.
Source: www.slate.fr
