A propósito das eleições americanas em Novembro próximo, a propósito do candidato republicano Mitt Romney e da sua louríssima mulher que se perfilam para ocupar a cadeira mais importante do mundo, a propósito do descrédito à política económica de Obama, ao desabono ao inédito Medicaid e às medidas de apoio e protecção social verdadeiramente inovadoras, missão inquestionável de um governo de um estado, escreve esta americana uma despudorada e certeira carta a Ann Rommney, senhora que tem por estes dias subido a vários palanques para dissertar sentidos louvores ao seu husband num merchandising digno da Coca-Cola, e que eu considero obrigatório reportar neste Blog democrata.
Por cá, o Borges, estava a pedir uma carta destas.
No one really gives a shit that you are rich. No one begrudges you a good life or is insinuating that Mitt didn’t work hard to earn your money. Granted, “working hard” may have a vastly different meaning than taking over companies, loading them with debt, gutting them and then collecting huge fees to anyone with a modicum of conscience and decency, but we’ll get into that, as well as the tax havens and loopholes he milks for every last dime, some other time.
What you don’t seem to be able to get through your pretty little blond cranium is that, while you may have had to live in an apartment sans multiple Cadillacs and dancing horses in your college days, you always knew that there was a familial safety net there to catch you if you fell.
In other words, you living like many of us live our entire lives for a couple of years isn’t reality…it’s a cute story, an anecdote to chuckle over at Thanksgiving dinner in one of your many mansions. It’s bullshit. You don’t know what it’s like to be a regular American any more than I know what it’s like to be a Sudanese orphan or a fucking amoeba. I think it would make us all feel slightly better if you would just conjure up a little goddamned humility and admit that.