𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐱 𝐏𝐨𝐞𝐦
Tax his land, tax his wage,
Tax his bed in which he lays.
Tax his tractor, tax his mule,
Teach him taxes is the rule.
Tax his cow, tax his goat,
Tax his pants, tax his coat.
Tax his ties, tax his shirts,
Tax his work, tax his dirt.
Tax his chew, tax his smoke,
Teach him taxes are no joke.
Tax his car, tax his grass,
Tax the roads he must pass.
Tax his food, tax his drink,
Tax him if he tries to think.
Tax his sodas, tax his beers,
If he cries, tax his tears.
Tax his bills, tax his gas,
Tax his notes, tax his cash.
Tax him good and let him know
That after taxes, he has no dough.
If he hollers, tax him more,
Tax him until he’s good and sore.
Tax his coffin, tax his grave,
Tax the sod in which he lays.
Put these words upon his tomb,
“Taxes drove me to my doom!”
And when he’s gone, we won’t relax,
We’ll still be after the inheritance tax.
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𝗪𝗵𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁 𝟰𝟴 𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗯𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲.
If Israel is to launch an attack on Iran, triggering an escalation, the price of oil will surge.
Iran will retaliate by blocking the Strait of Hormuz. Such a conflict could spell the end of the petrodollar, potentially replaced by a central bank digital currency, as hinted by plans already in motion.
SWIFT's recent announcement, made in March, outlines intentions to establish a platform within the next one to two years, facilitating connections between the emerging wave of central bank digital currencies and the current financial system.
Problem. Reaction. Solution.