That fucking tax thing
One look at my measly pay slip got my looking up all the words in my curse dictionary again. A simple computation and I saw that I was being taxed at 15%. And relatively, I don't know what that means, only that it's biting off a huge portion of my highly-negligeable salary.
In reference to the hundreds of columnists all over, "Where the fuck are my taxes going?!" Seriously now, I'm starting on looking at those Expeditions with "8" plates with contempt. Never been much of a tibak myself, but geez, with the money I'm dishing, I might as well expect some good hospitals, roads, and other services. And the sad truth is, there is no such thing here.
*takes on a nationalistic stance, hand over heart, simulating booming voice dripping with passion for country* Now I understand the wrath of the Filipino people. This is a despicable country. And the government expects professionals to stay? There's no such thing as a future here for honest (read: non-corrupt) people. Writers can file their fingers to dust typing away with how much the government, and every citizen must help each other for progress. Activists can scream chants and go hungry for the rest of their lives, radio commentators can waste all their spittle for nothing.
Whew! All that anger over a blasted pay slip... Might as well use the "relative misery" technique. In other lands like Djibouti, Somalia, or in planets like Omicron Persei 8, in parallel dimensions, some other nutcase is bitching over greater sorrow. There are people who can barely afford food and shelter. There are people with more pain and probably an unknown, incurable and extremely painful disease. Some CIA agent is getting his skin peeled off inch by inch in some torture chamber somewhere. And...
Nope, it doesn't lighten my load at all. Not by one fucking bit. I still don't see how people get comforted by the thought that other people are having an even harder time than they are.
***you've just read another annoying complaint in life by someone you don't know or hardly care about. Ah, the wonders of technology.***
In reference to the hundreds of columnists all over, "Where the fuck are my taxes going?!" Seriously now, I'm starting on looking at those Expeditions with "8" plates with contempt. Never been much of a tibak myself, but geez, with the money I'm dishing, I might as well expect some good hospitals, roads, and other services. And the sad truth is, there is no such thing here.
*takes on a nationalistic stance, hand over heart, simulating booming voice dripping with passion for country* Now I understand the wrath of the Filipino people. This is a despicable country. And the government expects professionals to stay? There's no such thing as a future here for honest (read: non-corrupt) people. Writers can file their fingers to dust typing away with how much the government, and every citizen must help each other for progress. Activists can scream chants and go hungry for the rest of their lives, radio commentators can waste all their spittle for nothing.
Whew! All that anger over a blasted pay slip... Might as well use the "relative misery" technique. In other lands like Djibouti, Somalia, or in planets like Omicron Persei 8, in parallel dimensions, some other nutcase is bitching over greater sorrow. There are people who can barely afford food and shelter. There are people with more pain and probably an unknown, incurable and extremely painful disease. Some CIA agent is getting his skin peeled off inch by inch in some torture chamber somewhere. And...
Nope, it doesn't lighten my load at all. Not by one fucking bit. I still don't see how people get comforted by the thought that other people are having an even harder time than they are.
***you've just read another annoying complaint in life by someone you don't know or hardly care about. Ah, the wonders of technology.***
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