The United Association of Robbers

        I have grown so disgusted with my previous posts and writings that I stopped writing altogether. It doesn't take long for one to realize how ridiculous is their past works . However, after realizing my ineptitude in normal speech, I decided to write again, thanks to you for being able to withstand my words of utter nonsense.

          I have been assaulted with the idea of national unity recently. Which I disagreed, of course. There's this one group which proposed the unity of all muslims in this country as the ultimate solution to various interpersonal and intrapersonal problems. Somehow, with this unity, the country will grow strong and peaceful.

Indeed, Allah loves those who fight in His cause in a row as though they are a [single] structure joined firmly.

           There is a story about an old man and his three quarrelsome sons. The sons were so spiteful towards each other; they kept fighting over the most trivial things that their grandmother died of a sudden heart attack, and  their  mother became deaf out of constant yelling and screams.

                The old man grew sick after years of civil war.  On his death bed, he called upon his three sons and asked each of them to bring him three sticks. He asked them to break the sticks, and walla! , so they did with ease . The old man asked them to bring him a bunch of sticks, and when they did, he told them to bundle those sticks together, and asked them to try and break the bundled sticks . Each of them tried with their utmost strength, but  they failed to break the so-called united sticks. The old man died then, after succeeding to tell his quarrelsome sons, that unity is strength. Well, that is the kindergarten basis of understanding that unity is indeed a sign of strength.

                  The world would be so much better if everyone agrees upon one thing.

                I refuse to agree. I have seen outside the kindergarten world long enough to understand that things are not that simple.

            Suppose that there are two group of muslims, one is a squabbling band of pirates, and the other one is a justice wielding government. There are muslim pirates ,for goodness sake, robbers and serial killers, but let's take this as a mere example.  Don't be too harsh on yourself mate. The pirates take pride in their own jolly roger, their lawlessness and freedom. They ransack islands and rob trading ships ,kill others for fun, and put little value upon human lives.

            The muslim government would always try to capture these lawless pirates and aims to restore peace on the planet. Upholding true justice, the government is true to their intentions and did their best to serve the people. The government values life, and thus they are the exact opposite of the squabbling band of pirates. On top of that, the government is fully free of corruption and misuse of power, saint-like, pure-white, sinless and  clean.

               These two groups are muslims, aren't they? Now, how would unity benefit any of them? Why would the pirates share a flag with the government?

            There would only be unity if the government agrees upon those dirty jobs done by the pirates. A unity would only happen if the government condones their free killing spree, and grant the pirates freedom to destroy islands and rob ships.

               This is among the most simplest explanation I can use to explain the current situation. The government is stuck with their  idiosyncratic principles and seek to protect their hegemony. The pirates seek freedom in doing sins and corrupt inhumane acts. It should be understood that such unity is after all an alliance in corruption.

          There can only be unity if the pirates agree to stop their act of piracy, and become good muslims. But as far as we can see, none of that is going to happen. The real government in this analogy appears to enjoy robbing every penny from the people, and they have not shown any signs of stopping. And for academics' sake, our country is among the worst in corruption, the least press freedom, and we only lose to China in the amount of illegal money outflow. 

Such is the explanation from this kindergarten world.

       

Peace.

Different~

                Do you know how is it like to be different? It's when everybody goes out to the field in a football frenzy, and you are slumped under your warm blanket, sleeping your hearts out. When people rejoice over free  good food and the overflowing juices, you choose to starve  yourself and spend on something else. That's not so different, sorry. That's just extreme laziness.  Being different is by going against the mainstream. To do things others refrained from even thinking of .

               To fail a test when most others get perfect scores does not qualify as 'different'. That's just plain stupid. How do I say this? You have to be different if you want to know how it's like. Men who skipped work and slept during classes had certainly felt how being difference is like. And so are petty rule breakers and bad people. There is a certain ecstasy , an adrenaline rush, in doing taboos, acts that people regard as wrong. This is how being different is like, but this is the wrong ' difference'.

`

                 I am sorry if I had created a negative perception about being different. Screw you  and your perspectives.

           There is an easy and practical way to be different, my friend.  Go to the  Himpunan Rakyat rally in Kuala Lumpur this Saturday, and I promise that you will never be the same person again. Be different , forever. I am going , insyaallah, but I am not  different from others. I am just confused -and sad- that nobody wants  to go with me. My companions, nakama in cold and hard times had faltered and refused from joining such rallies due to the fact that scholars can't be involved with lowly scums that will conquer the stadium this Saturday. Chanting ridiculous stuff in the orange heat of the afternoon is an act of barbarians, and does not seem   fit with the holy nature of national scholars. Sorry guys. Hahahaha.

          I acknowledge the fact that we have exams in hand, but if we don't rise to the call and march with the people this Saturday, who's gonna save the nation?  The planet needs us young superheroes, to fight for liberty and freedom!  Sort of.

           We are not young forever. While our fats still reside in the skin, let's join the movement of the people of the 'different' kind, and do not let the nerd in us force us to do more exercise papers on that particular evening.

             I studied every day, and this Saturday is just one day. See by your own eyes, how we transcend the boundaries of skin colours and language , and march together like a big family. It has been programmed in our brains, by constant utusanilization, that such gatherings are prelude to violence and chaos, but I choose to disagree. If it is that hard to comprehend, then imagine you and me walking by the streets of Kuala Lumpur , one fine afternoon, in yellow and red shirts. Just walking, and nothing else. There's not much violence in that, is there?  Why would there be in the first place?

         Well, add a hundred thousand others, who smile at policemen and sing songs like kindergarteners . Since when was it wrong for a normal citizen to walk on the roads of his nation?

           People will gather this weekend with various groups and their own just causes. We   have had enough with corruption and misconduct of power . We can no more say "it's okay lah" and turn a blind eye anymore. We have had enough with fat cows , sunken submarines, and oversized diamonds bought with childhood savings. The Felda men are tired of being tricked with empty promises. People of the Eastern Coast have decided that their oil is indeed theirs, and some honest men just want a clean and fair election. Students have risen to the occasion and demanded for a representative power for the young  people in the political scene. I have chosen to be different, and I have chosen to support their causes.

                Tell me my friend, how is any of their causes wrong? How is that possible?

           Be free of the apologetic nature of various groups with uncertain and misleading  motives, and think by yourselves . Be brave , my friend. Come with me. Be different.

Getsuga~~

                  I have no way to describe how beautiful is a morning. The dark skies punctured by flickers of sunrise, in the wee hours of the morning , my friend, is a beauty beyond comparison. I don't know how you see it, but as a colour-blinded guy, I  always see the morning sky with a purplish hue and little smudges of white. This is not the 10 am type of morning my friend, this is the breaking dawn. Not that weird ,awful movie, this is the real thing.

              I haven't seen it for a while, and I wonder how it looks now .  In this hot tropical country, this hour is the coldest of all. The leaves and the shy morning flowers are all covered with dew. The land is soft with moisture, and it gives a spongy feeling when you step on them, like a red carpet celebrating your arrival. It made you feel like a king, because you are all alone there, while others are sound asleep. You have the power to wake up, my friend, while others are slumped under their blankets.

        It is cold , but there is no need to get in sweaters, as it will really be warm soon.  As you tread upon the wet grass you can hear the birds singing; they celebrate the beginning of a new day. The crickets make their final songs heard before the night show ends, and the animals of the day would take their places.  

             The moon in the morning is nothing like the one in the night. They called it ' getsuga' in Japan. I really like that word.  The night is over, yet why is the moon still there? It kept me company in the dawn, until the sun rises, and it faded from sight. It has been a long time since we saw a getsuga, my friend, and I have started to forget how does it looks like.

*nothing to do with the post

         I can't deny the fact that even though the morning is such a beauty, it is also the most tempting time to sleep. The comfort it gives when you snuggle under your thick layer of blanket, damn, I feel sleepy. It feels like someone you love so much gives you the warmest hug ever. You don't want to let the blanket go. The pillow is your best companion. Nothing can separate us  now, not even yells from an angry mom, or a splash of water on your face by a bored dad. If your young sister dare to just tickle your foot to wake you up, there is always the falcon kick , usable for in-sleep defense. Poor child.

            But you haven't seen the morning skies, have you? How do you know that such a short slumber is better than this precious beauty my friend?

            I love stating the obvious, you see, as the obvious things are the ones we almost always forget.

           Have you forgotten how beautiful it is when the clouds part to give way to the rays of light? Man, this is painful to write. The morning signifies a new hope and a new beginning, and how do you hope to change if you don't even begin? Our prophet promised us blessings for those early risers, to the ones who appreciate the beauty of a morning. Our time as youth is the best time to savour the brilliance of the morning, before we 

become adults who view mornings as hasty breakfasts , traffic jams and exhaust smoke.

                I want to change, my friend. I missed the beauty of the morning. Wake up. Let us pray.

Go home~

                    I have created a portal gun. It took me all my time and I poured all my efforts into making this; which could stand as an explanation for my falling grades. I found  a manual of portal gun making 101 in the world wide web, which constitutes of a rather complicated list of materials and procedures, but man, I did it. First of all, do you have any idea what a portal gun is? It's a gun that makes portal, get it? You shoot once at a wall and shoot again at another surface, and a portal is created which connects both places.  Man, this is difficult.

                The manual suggested a few ramifications and improvements that allow the creation of portals  using electromagnetic waves, which means one can create a portal here and shoot another far across the seas. There, you can travel thousands of miles in a second. The problem was to project the wave of the right  intensity to produce  a portal at the intended place. A microscopic error causes the portal to be displaced hundreds of miles away. I displaced the projected portal in the depth of Carribean seas once, resulting in a fish rain in Mantin.   Nevertheless, the portal gun was a success. After hundreds of tries ,during a skipped maths lesson, I managed to create a portal to a place which the gun was built for. I created a portal to Khan Younus, Gaza.

                 I went into the portal in my bedroom cupboard and entered a very  small house . It was nothing like Narnia. I saw a chair and a sickly thin kid, before someone hit my head with a bowl, and my whole world went black.

               I woke up and found myself tied to a chair . My head hurt like hell. There was a young man standing infront of me, clutching his hands together.  He looked way younger than I was, but his complexion was more like an old man. Pain-stricken and tired.

                "Who are you?" , he asked in Arabic , with a slight Palestinian accent.

          I managed to explain myself and about the portals, as he happened to be a student at the University of Palestine, and he understood English well.

        " I am nothing but a friend. I want to help, however possible".

          His name was Hassan. He lived in that small house with a younger brother and a very sick mother. There were scars all over his arms and burns upon his chest. His face was burdened with sorrow and pain, but it glowed with warmness and solace.

          " How do you wish to help?",he said. " You are just one man. Even with that strange machine of yours, there is no way you can help. I know that this thing can transport soldiers and support troops from everywhere else, but they had decided not to come for the past fifty years. Why would they come now? Hear now my friend, their fighter jets are raining us with bombs, and you people who fear death more than anything, can do nothing if you really come, but to die in masses"

          " Haven't you ever wonder, how we managed to sustain ourselves after such a long time? We should have went extinct years ago after barrages of chemical bombs and air strikes. It is not the brute strength of men that kept us alive, my friend . You people can't even stop bickering about fast food restaurants while we are dying here, and you wish to help?

                People out there are still being indecisive about our situation here, even after so many died. They came to this land and smeared Al-Aqsa with their filth. They came with guns and tanks, while we only had self-made rockets and rifles. They took our homes and killed our brothers. And some of you are still making decisions! Have they forgotten Shabra and Shatila? Aren't there enough deaths already? We pledged to the world with our bloodied hands and broken limbs, and the world ignored us. We tried to retaliate, and they named us the militants. When was it wrong for one to defend his religion and his nation? Indeed , Allah is our only help and our only support.

            Go home, my friend. There is nothing you can do. It is too dangerous here. I knew that deep in your heart, your only wish is to help, but you will only die in vain. I look at your face and I knew it.

When was the last time you and your friends prayed Subuh together? You have no chance against these animals, if such is the case.  When was the last time you recite the Quran, my friend, if you really want to fight with us?"

             I went back without being able to say even a word. I am weak, helpless and insignificant. This fat lump of meat can do nothing there but die. I returned and swore to come again.

        " I can help. I can bring some bread and meds, if you want to, Hassan"

     

Savages~

                   A young man walked stealthily behind an oblivious lady at the city centre. She was too absorbed with the shops and the merchandise at the market, apparently unaware that a man had been tailing her for the past fifteen minutes. She stopped to ask for the price of a fake sunglasses and the man slipped his hands carefully under her handbag, lifting it away with an utmost skill and precision-she never knew what happened. He was relieved, but as he walked away, his heart was thundering and rampaging inside him , his conscious went against his desires , but it was too late. He had taken the handbag with him.

           The very moment he turned away with a swift pace, a war scream  broke and the market turned into chaos. Somebody spotted him! He broke into a sprint amidst the crowd, yet hundreds of men were galloping behind, and people were blocking his way. No, this is not the way it should be. The plan was perfect, nobody even saw the handbag which he hid in a plastic bag. He took the prize at the most deserted  part of the market, where customers avoid the sunglasses seller who cheats on all occasion. Now he's running for his dear life, all the people around him trying to be heroes themselves, to catch this villain and be  the warrior of the day.

                He kept running and running, as fast as he can, avoiding the tackles and the blocks with certainty. After all he was a district champion in cross country a few years ago, when he was  a teenager with big dreams. He kept running and he saw P Ramlee in the final scenes of Seniman Bujang Lapok which he watched the night before ,with his beloved wife. Sarip Dol had burnt down the house which the three friends resided , together with their fellow neighbours. P Ramlee had overpowered Sarip Dol and had him tied properly. The angry villagers came knocking at the door , all brandishing cangkuls and parangs and ropes, prepared to kill. But then, P Ramlee ordered them to calm down, and gave them the villain with a condition," That this man should not be harmed physically, and that the people take him to the police station".

                 Well, maybe, just maybe , if he's caught, them people will have clemency and just hand him over to the cops. Perhaps. But that was most unlikely, and so he kept running, his lungs bursting for air, his legs strained under him. He cannot give up, he cannot fail.  He had had enough with his wife complaining that their children had been drinking artificial syrup instead of milk for the past two months. Charming woman. He himself was bored of cucumbers and anchovies for dinner every freaking day. What can he do? It wasn't his fault that the factory he worked at went bankrupt all of a sudden. He had been looking for job ever since, without success. And so he kept running.

                One guy who was just behind the thief in the chase was imagining a press conference to laud his heroic actions on this glorious day, he will be crowned a hero who stopped a crime. Imagine his face in the national television, and his proud mom who would be telling this story for years. The one  behind him was figuring out how to word out this historic chase in his Facebook status; how his keen sight had made him able to spot the theft. The other guy beside him apparently had no idea what was going on; he ran because everybody did so.

              The thief tripped upon a magically appearing croc shoes and tumbled over on the pavement. Before he could get up , dozens  of men were towering against his miniscule figure, the handbag was nowhere to be seen. One man took his right arm and pinned him down, and another took his left. A punch landed on his face before he could even struggle. The people are mad, they are angry. Give this thief to the cops and the most he would get is five years behind bars. Freaking courts and judges. The memory of  all the women who died in snatch theft weeks ago are still fresh in their minds; adding much to their overwhelming dissatisfaction with the piecemeal punishment which certainly does not fit the crime.

                He tried to escape, with all the strength left in him but to no avail. Only that moment did he begun to feel ashamed of his acts that day; what would his wife say to him? How disappointed would his mother feel? He thought that the best escape is to just die , but then the end is much more daunting and terrible to behold. What would God say to him then, to this petty criminal, who would like to bring his family to a dignified dinner for just one night? Will he be sent to hell?

              Nay , this is the last time he would steal anything, and he  swore in his heart that he will never do such things ever again, as a falcon punch landed upon his weakening chest, and a kick went up his groin. The heroes of the day pummeled his face with terrible anger and satisfaction, this little piece of crap should had never lived upon this planet. Others were cursing and  yelling swear words at him, that bad villain who deserved all sorts of punishments. Enough, he said in his mind. I would never steal again, he said with his bloody mouth. Return the bag to that poor lady and I promise you I would never steal again. Please..

                 The men did not stop assaulting the thief, not until he had went unconscious for more than ten minutes. They were still kicking his back, until  a pair of cops and an ambulance arrived at the scene. There were no reporters there, much to the disappointment of the heroes.  They rushed the young man to the hospital and provided him aid, although with disgust and unwillingness. The doctors had sworn of the Hippocratic oath  , and they tried their best to revive the crooked shaped of a damaged man. They poked his chest and wiped his blood, supplied him with respiratory aid and put some painkillers in him. He was bleeding from his ears and his mouth, while his ribs were shattered to pieces. The doctors could only watch while he succumbed from internal bleeding, his heart pounding their last few so feebly, and he died there on the hospital bad, all his virtues of a man lost and destroyed, and he was no more..

                The cops retrieved the handbag and took the lady to the station to take her statement. They opened the handbag , surprised and perplexed with their finding. In the bag, there were two tampons , a pack of tissues and hair bands. And nothing else.

What a terrible way to die.

What heroic acts had our society shown that day. Freaking savages.

Peace.

                 

Farewell, defender of cats~

                   My father's friend passed away last week. He was my friend too, although I never seemed to realize it. Nobody in this world noticed his presence upon this planet, until the very moment he died. When the news spread  everybody was overwhelmingly sad, because he was indeed a very kind man, whose contributions never seemed to matter before.

                He was a very quiet man, with a humble character, and that should explain his previous state  of being unacknowledged. Nobody cares about him before. 

                 He worked as a contractor, tending to the wood works of houses , the bricks and the foundations.  Among the last works in the last days before his death was two mosques in my place, which he and his men built with eagerness and full spirits. He made a lot of money, but his clothes were never new, and his house was always the small old  house his parents left him. He used his money to support his brothers and their families , while he himself never got married. A very generous man, the highlight of his generosity was when he loaned his money to so many people, all of whom have a tendency of not paying back.

                

  Why am I telling you this?

             Seeing him with torn shoes and a very worn shirt was a very common view, it became his trademark. But then, nobody cares about him. He was a maverick, yet he was never lonely. He did not have any children, yet he had the biggest family-although not of humans. This guy had almost 40 cats at his house,-or so my uncle told me- he took care of them and fed them every day. No, seriously, he had almost 40 cats. Forty . Those cat lovers out there can officially give this man a  posthumous cat award. Don't misunderstood me my friend, he was not a creepy loner with an obsession with cats-which is so normal with you people. His place was more  like an animal shelter. He would take stray cats home  and feed them, those poor kittens without moms. This is a guy who loves cats, in a society which regards cutting off cats' legs as a fair punishment ,should they steal a fish.

              I don't know if you still take him as a regular non-existent man, because he really was.  Once , his nephew tried to kidnap those beloved kittens and throw them somewhere else. I don't really know why; perhaps the cats took his  motorcycle seat as a scratching mat. This is a common practice in my town, where we 'share' unwanted kittens with neighbouring villages , or just dump them at fish markets. I did this once , when the number of cats exceeded my house's limit of ten, and I am very ashamed with myself-but I can assure you that I placed them in a place where them people adore cats. When his nephew dumped his cats, he was outraged and shocked, and he went to look for the cats , only to be dismayed by the fact that some of them kittens were already dead. God, this is heartbreaking.

               My uncle told me that this man frequented a warong for his lunches, and he would take some fried fish and put them in his shirt's front pocket. He brought those fried fish home and fed his cats.  It was weird enough for hard labourers who strived under the heat of the day, doing the harshest  of works, to have an affection with cats, and to put fried fish in your pockets for them is like super odd.

         His friends took to a liking to tease him about his simplicity-an extreme simplicity. He rode an old bike, wore old shirts , while he was never too old himself.  This is an age where the government gives rebates for smartphones, but he never felt a necessity to own even a simple brick phone, until my uncle bought him one, for ease and communication's sake. I mean, what do you do if you have a  lot of money? The law of marginal utility stated that we would spend and consume ,pilfer and drink, until we reach the point of the least satisfaction-which seems non-existent. Yet the wonders of this world never seemed to fascinate him, and he remained simple with his family of cats.

                We have a congregation in my place, where men and women gather for religious activities, charity and gotong-royongs   . Them people are very active and passionate with their works at the local mosque, and they are the strongmen who worked for PAS (Parti Islam Se-Malaysia) without any pay, all sincere and true to their hearts. This resulted in a victory in the recent election, after all the hard work, night and day. We never noticed that this man was always there; at every gathering and venues, to offer a helping hand and to volunteer, as he was always quiet ,and he kept to himself. We never noticed this , until the moment we saw his face at the graveyard.

                He died last Saturday, after experiencing chest pains at work. He was sent to the hospital, and passed away a few hours later. He left without burdening  anyone to take care of him in his sick bed-alone as always.  He even rejected offers to send him to the hospital by his colleagues, in fear of being a nuisance. His death was so quick and easy, unlike the chinese guy who had his stomach burst open on the road this morning. That left me wondering ; why did good men die so early?

               This man left almost forty orphaned cats and an old house. Farewell, good sir,defender of cats and children alike; May Allah bless you and      your soul, and may He grant you the blessings of Jannah.

The Budget and thy money, monsieurs~

           There's nothing to be regarded as chronic materialistic disorder when the society talks about the budget. The budget is about money, and money is used to live, to sustain ourselves and buy things we like, nothing like having fun for every second of your life. Economists tend to be offended if you accuse them of being materialistic and profit-motivated, because even mosques, schools and homes are made with money.  If you can find a way in which you can fight wars and bomb imperialists with  free dirt and free home-made cabbages, then go on and be a skeptic all over again.

               

                         There are a lot of incentives given by the government in the budget. A lot. I have to borrow one academician's phrase; there's the good , the bad and the ugly. The introduction of insurance schemes and protection plans for small traders and uniformed officers is indeed a genius, as these people are those exposed to various risks and danger of losing their income. It provides support should these group of people fall sick and unable to run their daily errands. However, I found it rather disappointing that the budget does not include initiatives or protection for workers in the private sector who lose their jobs in event of recession and whatsoever. The private sector comprises of a bigger group of income, at 3.2 million strongmen,  compared to small traders, fishermen and the armed forces, at 600000, 129622, and 124000 respectively.

               

                We need to agree that the budget is rather fair to the people, what with the various schemes for training and skills, support for SMEs and innovation, and the decrease of taxation in various industries that will allow them to grow stronger with a lower cost of production. The expansion of such industries will open up more jobs for graduates, primarily in the gargantuan oil and gas firms . People need to know that economic advisors and accountants formed  the basis of the budget, not the screwed up politicians and Najib himself. He ain't know nothing about economics, seriously. This is the good part of the budget, although we need to consider the fact that there are too many discrepancies and distortions when it comes to the distribution of the said budget-corruption at its finest.

         Some say that the budget is indeed an election-oriented budget. There is no point denying, is there? The fact that the election is looming close, and the people hate Najib to his guts reiterates the idea that the budget is nothing more than an indirect mass bribe. All the one-off payment are short-termed and short-lived life support-wait, it isn't supportive at all. I have the urge to vomit every time BR1M ads appear on tv - it is as if the 500 ringgit revolutionize lifestyle, cures cancer and give apartments to the homeless. So freaking pathetic. I agree that giving one-off payments to the citizens gives a  stronger domestic demand, like the ones the Taiwanese government did during the previous recession, but  we need a higher fixed income, not just sweets that last less than a day. The income of the middle income group had been stagnant for the past two decades, while the price of goods increased significantly.

            Then there's the smart phone rebate. What the fish is that for? The targeted group of 21 to 30 year olds are obviously voters- the bigger portion of them- , comprising of numerous  young men and women who aren't inclined to any political ideology-or don't even care  about the maelstrom of political stormshit that is happening. This is the legalized form of election bribery. The profit goes straight to smart phone vendors, and network providers ,or should we name here-cronies?  They can give rebates for smart phones, but not for education, seriously?

               

                 These one-off payments, including those given to early army retirees aren't gonna benefit the people in the long run. It benefits the government in the short run-the election.

         The budget also reintroduces various subsidies, one of them for the paddy and rice industry. Them  farmers are never getting higher income from the subsidies, as BERNAS ,who acts as a monopolist gets the biggest portion of it. The problem with the budget is that it is superficially good, but in reality the wealth goes to a designated group of elites. Reduction of subsidies for sugar is not going to reduce consumption. Ever. They are like cigarettes, non-elastic  demand from us Malaysians. So why reduce it?  

            We were also expecting the long-anticipated cut in the outrageous tax for imported cars, but nay, never . Less can be said about PTPTN, which the government only proposed incentives for the repayment of loans, nothing about cheaper education or tuition fees. They proposed a travesty of themselves-20 percent discount for one-off repayment of loans. Now, who the hell pays student loans once and for all? Seriously?

               Some people said that we are getting more and more materialistic , by the way the budget offers such small trinkets, and also the PR budget, which is much of the same thing, but I don't agree. Is it materialistic that the people demands for higher disposable income, to provide for their families? I don't think so. Is it materialistic that people support subsidies to gas and cheaper food prices, so they can spend more upon education and family entertainment?

           The reason of the return of Europeans to religious concerns after the industrial revolution is that they don't have to worry about their income anymore. This concerns the pre economic breakdown period, obviously. We can't expect to reduce crime rates , if the people doesn't have enough money to eat. We cannot expect people to start coming to mosques and enlighten themselves when they have to work from dawn to dusk to sustain their families. There is a period of religious revival in the welfare states of Europe, because they seriously do not have to worry about various debts , student loans and lousy leaders. They can concentrate more upon how they pray ,and how to be good people, perhaps?

                   I have to stress out that the budget is somewhat fair , if we exclude those ridiculously obvious bribes. The problem is the execution part of the plan. The original blueprint is outstanding, really, but the way the wealth goes to cronies, family members of the cow groups, monopolists and  fellow politicians , explain the reality that the budget is nothing more than empty words.

                     Peace.